Breathing Makes a Huge Difference

That's a no-brainer, right?

The act of breathing is actually a no-thinker and an all-reptilian-brainer. In the lower brain stem (the "reptilian brain") the medulla oblongata controls our breathing among other things, and it is so inextricably tied to our survival that the urge to breathe exists independently of our will to breathe; that is, it bypasses cognitive function.

In "Deep Survival" by Laurence Gonzales, the author refers to instances where scuba divers remove their regulators while under water and drown, even though their tanks still contain air. For these divers, the feeling of being smothered (deprived of air) -- from the regulator covering the nose and mouth -- overpowers their cognitive function which tells them that that covering is actually providing air: their physical urge to breathe is stronger than the mind which is telling them they ARE breathing. So, off comes the air supply and they suck in water and drown.

Breathing = survival = breathing.

But what if you want to do more than survive, or what if you want to experience a state of mind that transcends the human or reptilian experience? Can breathing differently elevate survival to a different level?

Yesterday I took my first ever real kundalini yoga class in New York City. It was 90 minutes of breathing and chanting and holding my arms over my head in impossible positions for a really long time -- longer than I would have ever thought I was capable of. First we panted with our tongues hanging as far out of our mouths as possible. Later on we held the left nostril closed and did right-nostril breathing for what seemed like half an hour. We also did "breath of fire," which is like panting but breathing through the nose only.

Several times in between the postures and the breathing we laid down on our backs (presumably to recover). About half-way through the class during one of these respites I experienced such utter stillness in my body, my thoughts, my emotions and all my senses that I felt I could almost stop breathing entirely. I was floating in such a blissful state that I knew when we started up again I would be tapping into some other power than my own muscle or mental strength.

I've always been very athletic: a jogger, aerobics teacher (it was the 80s, give me a break), a high-altitude mountaineer, a skier and snow-boarder, swimmer, waterskier, roller-blader, hockey player, hiker -- you name, I'd jump right in. I have an intimate knowledge of my limits and possibilities, I have extraordinary physical and mental endurance accumulated over decades of physical challenges with nature, others and myself. Especially in the mountains, at times when my life was really in danger, I dug deep into my body and mind and powered through -- what a great feeling that was!

Before this class, I experienced the joy and rush that comes from mind and body connecting and powering through difficulties. In this class I experienced the otherworldly feeling of mind and body disconnecting from the idea of being a singular unit of power and connecting with everyone else in the room, and with some huge, crazy energy. I'd had moments of that before, in meditation, but because I generally meditate alone it was a much different feeling.

So while I'm lying on my back, disconnected from myself yet feeling more powerful and connected than ever before, my Council began to show up. There they were in their usual semi-circle, and I swear they were actually celebrating. One of them even came up and put a medal around my neck, which was kind of a gentle joke like, "you finally got it!"

No words passed between us in those few minutes, but I got the distinct impression that I was supposed to keep doing this kind of yoga, because breathing was going to transport me to a place where I could understand what I was supposed to do next. It was like when I was a junior in high school and I went to visit my older sister at the College of the Holy Cross: after a blissful weekend of underage drinking and meeting handsome boys at a mixer, I felt like two more years of high school was beneath me. I belonged at college! I was ready. This high school shit was for babies.

I couldn't have been more wrong, but I couldn't see that at the time. I needed two more years of maturity and learning before I could begin to understand what was expected of me socially, intellectually and spiritually at college (I went to Holy Cross too).

And that's like what happened yesterday. Before that class I thought I knew the route I needed to take to channel healing, and I thought I knew I was ready to be there. But my guides had always had something else in mind: more maturity? More training in the basics (like breathing)? So when I kind of went back to square one, I got the feedback and encouragement I was looking for.

Who needs this basic stuff like how to breathe, this "high school" shit?

Me. I need it.