One Breath at a Time
Anything unmet or unseen will be like a little button with a ‘push-me’ sticker on in—and it attracts fingers.
Adyashanti
It’s all very easy to talk about spirituality in the comfort of our living room or at a retreat where everyone is in bliss and enjoying three meals a day. But life usually isn’t so benign.
This thought comes to me as I lean my head against the curve of the fuselage, while peeing 37,000’ above the ocean. Whether you’re traveling first class or coach, airplane lavatories are all the same – the same chemical smell, the same horrible sucking sound when you flush, the same tiny sink that you can barely get your hands in, and the not-so-nice signs of previous occupants.
Suddenly the floor bounces underneath me. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing some turbulence. Please return to your seats . . .” I zip up and wash my hands, still feeling like I need to pee. The face in the mirror looks bleary and red-eyed. I open the flimsy bi-fold doors and make my way back down the narrow aisle like a sailor in a rough sea.
As I fasten my seatbelt, my whole body resists being crammed into the narrow, hard seat. My tailbone hurts, my eyes burn, my belly is distended, my feet are swollen, my mind is in a fog — so much for the romantic image of flying “the friendly skies.”
I don’t know how the Dalai Lama does it – traveling around the globe, dictating a new book, conferring with staff, writing correspondence, meditating for hours on end, preparing to meet with heads of state.
Not by having two glasses of wine as I just did.
It’s been a rough trip. I’m on the last leg back to Hawaii from a trip to the East coast, where I went from healthy to being sick in 24 hours.
Life has a way of throwing things at us when we least expect it. And wow, did I get caught. I watched it happen, like sinking deeper and deeper into quicksand. The more I struggled to get free, the deeper I sank. All the prayers, all the affirmations, all the self-awareness could not get me out.
At first I tried to relax and watch the thoughts come and go without resisting them. I stayed with the discomfort, then stayed with it some more.
Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out.
I told myself, “These thoughts are not real; these feelings are not real. Who is it that is having the thoughts?” For a few moments that helps.
All I can do is take one breath at a time. Breath comes, breath goes; joy comes, joy goes; suffering comes, suffering goes. What is it that doesn’t come and go?
None of this makes my sore behind, burning eyes, or bloated belly any better, but it does give me some peace of mind.
One breath at a time. Whenever I start to latch on to a thought . . . breath in, breath out. On and on and on. One breath at a time.
The moment I’m willing to accept all of it – pain or pleasure – a voice comes over the intercom, “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing in Maui in approximately twenty minutes . . .”