Catch Your Breath

-Hang out with me!

 He begged. In that annoying high pitched voice, because he read right through my reluctant stance.

--Oh but it is so hard to do that when it hurts to be with you!

-Come on! Hang out with me!

--I don’t want to be here, not today, not right now, can we reschedule? I can just get up and leave. Sorry if it’s rude, it’s just not working out for me.

-You’ve hung out with me so many times before… even when I’ve made you cry.

--Well, yes, yes, I have, but right now it is too painful to be here. I’m not even talking emotionally painful; forget that, that would be nice. It is physically painful to be with you. I just want to leave.

-If you leave, you come right back; in ragged, torn and uneven shallowness. It really takes you nowhere. Why don’t you just listen, take a slower breath. Just a tad, just a little.

--It’s too hard. Can we reschedule? Maybe this was not a great idea. Maybe we should not have met today.

-Just give it a chance, slowly, and open up. Haaaaaannnnngggg out. Say it slow. Say it on the inhale; then you’re home. Work through the anxiety. Hang out please.

The pain doesn’t go away. Not at all. Not today. But I hang out, and it gets a little easier with every slow breath.

New soreness all over from bodywork, adjustments and a self-inflicted ass kicking is threated through my back. Forward bend and pigeon instantly became my mortal enemies, until that Small victory, a minor recession and it dulls. The more I pull away from it, the more it lulls. Me away.

I give.

I am now coming out of a bright  mighty ocean threaded with white strings, I free myself and I sit on the beach to contemplate from far away, following his voice, he sits next to me. I watch the waters expand, and roar and settle down, just a tad. Bright and mighty; tranquil and unperturbed at once.

--I didn’t want to hang out. I wished you cared, Breath, but you don’t give a shit. You are the most insensitive to my selfish stride. Even my ego cares more!

-duh!, you have the nerve to say.

--Ha.  I’ve given you the confidence to be relentless, to keep on edging on when I rather you hang back and frankly, let me leave. I can’t unknow you. I can ignore you, but now it’s hard when I know the climax of release and peace you bring.

--You’ve become the silent voice in the back of my head. Great.

Breath looked a bit sad at that.

--Wait, I mean that. Great! Thank You Breath.

-- We hung out today, I pouted and threw a tantrum and you just held me steady, so I could bend.

--You didn’t take my struggle personally.

--You showed me how to expand and show you new and old places alike.

--We made more room for what’s good for me and my soul.

--Besides the mat and the floor, thank you for letting me catch you when I fall.