#breathwork — Public Fediverse posts

MY BUM LOST ITS MIND,
WHILE MY LUNGS FOUND GOD 💎

I had an extraordinary morning. Firstly, I shit my pants. There. We may as well get that out of the way. The annoying thing was that I had already been to the toilet. I had done the responsible thing. I had evacuated the premises. Ten minutes later, my body apparently discovered a forgotten annex. Mostly water. Thank you, body.

THIS FRIGHTENED ME MORE THAN I WANTED TO ADMIT.

I’m 70 now, hemiplegic (use of only one side of the body), so independence is not an abstract concept for me. I know exactly how many things have to be kept in balance and working for me to continue living the free life I love.

So naturally, my mind immediately produced the full disaster documentary. No more travel. More dependence. What if this gets worse? What if something else goes? What if I eventually need to go into care?

And then I remembered my mantra:

"No comment."

Not “everything will be fine.” Not “think positively.” Not a spiritual lecture delivered to myself while wearing compromised underwear.

Just:

"No comment."

And then I sat and did my breathwork. Three rounds, 36 minutes of controlled breathing with breath holds. And it was magnificent. Deep. Quiet. Meditative. Long holds. Longer than recommended, naturally, because apparently I obey my bowel more readily than I obey breathwork instructions.

HERE WAS THE RIDICULOUS THING:

My bum was driving me mad. My lungs were taking me home. Same body. Same morning. Completely different reports from different departments.

After the breathwork, I got dressed for the day. This sounds unremarkable until you have only one working hand. At my biggest, I was around 170–180 kilos. The clothes were enormous. Huge ill-fitting jeans. Enormous billowing T-shirts. Acres of bloody fabric.

Nobody tells you that when you’re hemiplegic, clothing itself has weight. Every extra bit of material has to be pulled, lifted, balanced, tucked and negotiated with one hand while trying not to fall over.

NOW I AM A SIZE SMALL.

Small briefs. Small T-shirt. Less body. Less fabric. Less wrestling. And I realised something rather wonderful. This is the first winter in years that I have dressed myself completely without needing my partner Pete's help. That matters enormously to me.

SO WHAT DID I LEARN FROM MY PROFOUNDLY SPIRITUAL MORNING?

Apparently quite a lot. The mind can be frightened while the breath is perfectly quiet. One part of the body can be behaving like a faulty garden hose while another is giving you the best meditation of your life. And “No comment” remains one of the finest spiritual tools I know.

ALSO, I NEED NEW UNDERWEAR.

Enlightenment is apparently very practical. Who knew!!

@3goodthings
@DigitalCoup
@meditation
@economics_that_works
@disability
@pwd
@joinin

#Disability #Hemiplegia #Breathwork #Meditation #Mindfulness #Independence #Aging #Spirituality #NoComment #DarkHumour #ACIM #people

MY BUM LOST ITS MIND,
WHILE MY LUNGS FOUND GOD 💎

I had an extraordinary morning. Firstly, I shit my pants. There. We may as well get that out of the way. The annoying thing was that I had already been to the toilet. I had done the responsible thing. I had evacuated the premises. Ten minutes later, my body apparently discovered a forgotten annex. Mostly water. Thank you, body.

THIS FRIGHTENED ME MORE THAN I WANTED TO ADMIT.

I’m 70 now, hemiplegic (use of only one side of the body), so independence is not an abstract concept for me. I know exactly how many things have to be kept in balance and working for me to continue living the free life I love.

So naturally, my mind immediately produced the full disaster documentary. No more travel. More dependence. What if this gets worse? What if something else goes? What if I eventually need to go into care?

And then I remembered my mantra:

"No comment."

Not “everything will be fine.” Not “think positively.” Not a spiritual lecture delivered to myself while wearing compromised underwear.

Just:

"No comment."

And then I sat and did my breathwork. Three rounds, 36 minutes of controlled breathing with breath holds. And it was magnificent. Deep. Quiet. Meditative. Long holds. Longer than recommended, naturally, because apparently I obey my bowel more readily than I obey breathwork instructions.

HERE WAS THE RIDICULOUS THING:

My bum was driving me mad. My lungs were taking me home. Same body. Same morning. Completely different reports from different departments.

After the breathwork, I got dressed for the day. This sounds unremarkable until you have only one working hand. At my biggest, I was around 170–180 kilos. The clothes were enormous. Huge ill-fitting jeans. Enormous billowing T-shirts. Acres of bloody fabric.

Nobody tells you that when you’re hemiplegic, clothing itself has weight. Every extra bit of material has to be pulled, lifted, balanced, tucked and negotiated with one hand while trying not to fall over.

NOW I AM A SIZE SMALL.

Small briefs. Small T-shirt. Less body. Less fabric. Less wrestling. And I realised something rather wonderful. This is the first winter in years that I have dressed myself completely without needing my partner Pete's help. That matters enormously to me.

SO WHAT DID I LEARN FROM MY PROFOUNDLY SPIRITUAL MORNING?

Apparently quite a lot. The mind can be frightened while the breath is perfectly quiet. One part of the body can be behaving like a faulty garden hose while another is giving you the best meditation of your life. And “No comment” remains one of the finest spiritual tools I know.

ALSO, I NEED NEW UNDERWEAR.

Enlightenment is apparently very practical. Who knew!!

@3goodthings
@DigitalCoup
@meditation
@economics_that_works
@disability
@pwd
@joinin

#Disability #Hemiplegia #Breathwork #Meditation #Mindfulness #Independence #Aging #Spirituality #NoComment #DarkHumour #ACIM #people

MY BUM LOST ITS MIND,
WHILE MY LUNGS FOUND GOD 💎

I had an extraordinary morning. Firstly, I shit my pants. There. We may as well get that out of the way. The annoying thing was that I had already been to the toilet. I had done the responsible thing. I had evacuated the premises. Ten minutes later, my body apparently discovered a forgotten annex. Mostly water. Thank you, body.

THIS FRIGHTENED ME MORE THAN I WANTED TO ADMIT.

I’m 70 now, hemiplegic (use of only one side of the body), so independence is not an abstract concept for me. I know exactly how many things have to be kept in balance and working for me to continue living the free life I love.

So naturally, my mind immediately produced the full disaster documentary. No more travel. More dependence. What if this gets worse? What if something else goes? What if I eventually need to go into care?

And then I remembered my mantra:

"No comment."

Not “everything will be fine.” Not “think positively.” Not a spiritual lecture delivered to myself while wearing compromised underwear.

Just:

"No comment."

And then I sat and did my breathwork. Three rounds, 36 minutes of controlled breathing with breath holds. And it was magnificent. Deep. Quiet. Meditative. Long holds. Longer than recommended, naturally, because apparently I obey my bowel more readily than I obey breathwork instructions.

HERE WAS THE RIDICULOUS THING:

My bum was driving me mad. My lungs were taking me home. Same body. Same morning. Completely different reports from different departments.

After the breathwork, I got dressed for the day. This sounds unremarkable until you have only one working hand. At my biggest, I was around 170–180 kilos. The clothes were enormous. Huge ill-fitting jeans. Enormous billowing T-shirts. Acres of bloody fabric.

Nobody tells you that when you’re hemiplegic, clothing itself has weight. Every extra bit of material has to be pulled, lifted, balanced, tucked and negotiated with one hand while trying not to fall over.

NOW I AM A SIZE SMALL.

Small briefs. Small T-shirt. Less body. Less fabric. Less wrestling. And I realised something rather wonderful. This is the first winter in years that I have dressed myself completely without needing my partner Pete's help. That matters enormously to me.

SO WHAT DID I LEARN FROM MY PROFOUNDLY SPIRITUAL MORNING?

Apparently quite a lot. The mind can be frightened while the breath is perfectly quiet. One part of the body can be behaving like a faulty garden hose while another is giving you the best meditation of your life. And “No comment” remains one of the finest spiritual tools I know.

ALSO, I NEED NEW UNDERWEAR.

Enlightenment is apparently very practical. Who knew!!

@3goodthings
@DigitalCoup
@meditation
@economics_that_works
@disability
@pwd
@joinin

#Disability #Hemiplegia #Breathwork #Meditation #Mindfulness #Independence #Aging #Spirituality #NoComment #DarkHumour #ACIM #people

MY BUM LOST ITS MIND,
WHILE MY LUNGS FOUND GOD 💎

I had an extraordinary morning. Firstly, I shit my pants. There. We may as well get that out of the way. The annoying thing was that I had already been to the toilet. I had done the responsible thing. I had evacuated the premises. Ten minutes later, my body apparently discovered a forgotten annex. Mostly water. Thank you, body.

THIS FRIGHTENED ME MORE THAN I WANTED TO ADMIT.

I’m 70 now, hemiplegic (use of only one side of the body), so independence is not an abstract concept for me. I know exactly how many things have to be kept in balance and working for me to continue living the free life I love.

So naturally, my mind immediately produced the full disaster documentary. No more travel. More dependence. What if this gets worse? What if something else goes? What if I eventually need to go into care?

And then I remembered my mantra:

"No comment."

Not “everything will be fine.” Not “think positively.” Not a spiritual lecture delivered to myself while wearing compromised underwear.

Just:

"No comment."

And then I sat and did my breathwork. Three rounds, 36 minutes of controlled breathing with breath holds. And it was magnificent. Deep. Quiet. Meditative. Long holds. Longer than recommended, naturally, because apparently I obey my bowel more readily than I obey breathwork instructions.

HERE WAS THE RIDICULOUS THING:

My bum was driving me mad. My lungs were taking me home. Same body. Same morning. Completely different reports from different departments.

After the breathwork, I got dressed for the day. This sounds unremarkable until you have only one working hand. At my biggest, I was around 170–180 kilos. The clothes were enormous. Huge ill-fitting jeans. Enormous billowing T-shirts. Acres of bloody fabric.

Nobody tells you that when you’re hemiplegic, clothing itself has weight. Every extra bit of material has to be pulled, lifted, balanced, tucked and negotiated with one hand while trying not to fall over.

NOW I AM A SIZE SMALL.

Small briefs. Small T-shirt. Less body. Less fabric. Less wrestling. And I realised something rather wonderful. This is the first winter in years that I have dressed myself completely without needing my partner Pete's help. That matters enormously to me.

SO WHAT DID I LEARN FROM MY PROFOUNDLY SPIRITUAL MORNING?

Apparently quite a lot. The mind can be frightened while the breath is perfectly quiet. One part of the body can be behaving like a faulty garden hose while another is giving you the best meditation of your life. And “No comment” remains one of the finest spiritual tools I know.

ALSO, I NEED NEW UNDERWEAR.

Enlightenment is apparently very practical. Who knew!!

@3goodthings
@DigitalCoup
@meditation
@economics_that_works
@disability
@pwd
@joinin

#Disability #Hemiplegia #Breathwork #Meditation #Mindfulness #Independence #Aging #Spirituality #NoComment #DarkHumour #ACIM #people

MY BUM LOST ITS MIND,
WHILE MY LUNGS FOUND GOD 💎

I had an extraordinary morning. Firstly, I shit my pants. There. We may as well get that out of the way. The annoying thing was that I had already been to the toilet. I had done the responsible thing. I had evacuated the premises. Ten minutes later, my body apparently discovered a forgotten annex. Mostly water. Thank you, body.

THIS FRIGHTENED ME MORE THAN I WANTED TO ADMIT.

I’m 70 now, hemiplegic (use of only one side of the body), so independence is not an abstract concept for me. I know exactly how many things have to be kept in balance and working for me to continue living the free life I love.

So naturally, my mind immediately produced the full disaster documentary. No more travel. More dependence. What if this gets worse? What if something else goes? What if I eventually need to go into care?

And then I remembered my mantra:

"No comment."

Not “everything will be fine.” Not “think positively.” Not a spiritual lecture delivered to myself while wearing compromised underwear.

Just:

"No comment."

And then I sat and did my breathwork. Three rounds, 36 minutes of controlled breathing with breath holds. And it was magnificent. Deep. Quiet. Meditative. Long holds. Longer than recommended, naturally, because apparently I obey my bowel more readily than I obey breathwork instructions.

HERE WAS THE RIDICULOUS THING:

My bum was driving me mad. My lungs were taking me home. Same body. Same morning. Completely different reports from different departments.

After the breathwork, I got dressed for the day. This sounds unremarkable until you have only one working hand. At my biggest, I was around 170–180 kilos. The clothes were enormous. Huge ill-fitting jeans. Enormous billowing T-shirts. Acres of bloody fabric.

Nobody tells you that when you’re hemiplegic, clothing itself has weight. Every extra bit of material has to be pulled, lifted, balanced, tucked and negotiated with one hand while trying not to fall over.

NOW I AM A SIZE SMALL.

Small briefs. Small T-shirt. Less body. Less fabric. Less wrestling. And I realised something rather wonderful. This is the first winter in years that I have dressed myself completely without needing my partner Pete's help. That matters enormously to me.

SO WHAT DID I LEARN FROM MY PROFOUNDLY SPIRITUAL MORNING?

Apparently quite a lot. The mind can be frightened while the breath is perfectly quiet. One part of the body can be behaving like a faulty garden hose while another is giving you the best meditation of your life. And “No comment” remains one of the finest spiritual tools I know.

ALSO, I NEED NEW UNDERWEAR.

Enlightenment is apparently very practical. Who knew!!

@3goodthings
@DigitalCoup
@meditation
@economics_that_works
@disability
@pwd
@joinin

#Disability #Hemiplegia #Breathwork #Meditation #Mindfulness #Independence #Aging #Spirituality #NoComment #DarkHumour #ACIM #people

Cultivating Calm with Sunday Softening Practices

Last year’s unpredictability led my focus to waver; my essays, meditations, and Instagram feed transitioned from careful curation to something more spontaneous and less intentional. Despite the time constraints that challenged my efforts, my desire to maintain a presence remains strong, as I aim to share creations that, in turn, provide others with glimpses of the peace I have discovered through various mindfulness practices.

Finding Stillness

I am shifting back towards more deliberate, niche-centered posts that enable not only myself, but readers and viewers as well, to find that still point amidst the unpredictability of life. Although this unpredictability remains unchanged, my experiences over the past year have taught me patience and provided the wisdom to accept life’s inherent uncertainty.

Allowing Flow

We often hold assumptions and expectations without justification, which can cloud our judgment and hinder personal growth. This journey leads us to realize the significance of flow—not just as a concept but as a transformative experience that allows us to engage deeply with the present moment.

Reflection

It is a topic I’ve explored extensively in my essay, Open Awareness: The Gift of Gracious Acceptance, where I delve into the nuances of being open to life’s unpredictable nature. Embracing this mindset can lead to profound insights and inner peace. To complement these reflections, I invite you to explore the meditation below, which serves as a practical guide to cultivating this sense of flow and serenity in your daily life.

Gentle Reminders

I often revisit my own writings and meditations as life becomes overwhelming, making it difficult to maintain a sense of peace. We need gentle reminders and practices that we can slip into during hectic moments. Over the past few weeks, I’ve actively engaged with the basics of meditation, yoga, and lymphatic flow movement, aligning my mind, body, and spirit energetically to a state of calm amid the chaos. From this still point, I aim for my work to feel deeper, more genuine, and authentic.

Work Week Flow

I am on an inviting journey that embraces the comforting essence of Sunday softening. For many, including me, Sunday is that cherished interlude before the hustle of the workweek kicks in. It’s a day infused with serenity and anticipation. While meditation and writing ignite my creative spirit, I work full-time as a professional in chemistry and geology. This unique mix allows me to relish my Sundays as the slow day before diving back into a more technical workflow. This path not only enriches my experience but also offers you a touch of softness and warmth as you prepare to face the new week ahead.

Sunday Softening

Sunday softening invites you to take a moment to feel your breath and your body, actively noticing tension and where emotions reside in your body, and allowing for a gentle release. As you breathe in deeply, envision the air filling your lungs and nurturing your spirit, while you exhale, let go of the burdens of the week behind you. It serves as a small reminder of who you are beneath the labels, revealing the essence of your true self, which gets overlooked in the busyness of life. In this sacred time, allow yourself to reconnect with your inner being, appreciating the stillness and presence that is always available to you. Recognize that you can return to this mindful space at any moment, embracing the peace and grounding it offers, cultivating a sense of calm that can guide you through the challenges ahead.

These posts will be shared each Sunday on Instagram, Facebook, and right here. I warmly invite you to share your word in the comments, and together, we can create a safe space to hold those thoughts.

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A post shared by 𝖪. 𝖬. 𝖲𝖨𝖬𝖮𝖭𝖣𝖲 – Meditation Teacher || Reiki Master (@dandelion.doorways)