Taking a Breather

I’m very much pro-breath. In Yoga I learned that we were always to move with our breath, never hold our breath. In life, even more so. Listening to your breath is one important way to maintain contact with your body. Integrating body and breath is an important way to maintain mental health.

That said, I’m out walking, crossed a couple of bridges, climbed up some rocks, trudged upstairs – I’m tired! I deserve a breather and I’m going to take it. There’s nothing wrong with that. Find a tree stump or a boulder. If you’re in a park, you may get lucky and find a bench. Added benefit – benches are usually placed with a mind to a pleasant view. Sit down, open your eyes, look around, and enjoy.

The other day I was out walking with my wife. We went over to a familiar bench and sat down. On the back was a brass plaque* with a quote from Chekhov:

 Let us learn to appreciate there will be times when the trees will be bare.

I took a few minutes to reflect that it was strange to sit and do nothing even if I’m retired. Heck, I was downsized 23 years ago and I’m still going strong not working. I did try for several years. The Dot-com bust in 2000 didn’t help despite the fact I had worked 23 years with IBM. I tried; I just couldn’t find work. And then I essentially stopped trying. But I still feel a compulsion to be doing something, I can’t let go. Reaching 65 and having pensions helped. Even on a leisurely walk I keep thinking I should be doing something. And since there’s no good reason why I “should be doing something” I’m slowly trying to learn to accept being where I am.

Others aren’t so fortunate. However, there are still times when I think that I should have found work 23 years ago. “Shield’s” are the things that can cripple you. But I have learned that having a job title or not having a job title doesn’t define who I am. Indeed, it can become an easy way to avoid becoming who you are at a deeper level. The real you doesn’t need a label or title. Maybe the real you just needs some time to sit on a bench in a park on a winter day taking a break from a walk where you crossed a couple of bridges?

Little by little I’m discovering that just becoming oneself can be a pretty major job – full time. But I need my breath to integrate with that thought. It’s OK, indeed super important to become whole and accepting of myself, where I am, and what I am at the moment. I need to be whole so I can be fully present with myself and those around me: my wife (partner), children, friends, and the people I come in contact with at play or work or even out on a walk!

So, I sit and try to become aware of my breath as it goes out and in. I push out the old and exhausted breath to make room for the fresh breath to enter. I look around slowly, unjudgementally, taking in my surroundings both immediate and in the distance. My breath goes out and in, out and in.

And then, since my mind was pretty much blank, I had an interesting idea flutter in with the breeze (plenty room for it between my ears I’m told). I was sitting with my back to the plaque and wondered what I’d choose for my quote if I were to sponsor a similar bench in a park somewhere. Better yet, I thought, why not get a little notebook and write down a quote – from a song, a novel, newspaper, my own back brain. Date it. Next quote use a new page. Maybe you’ll have one quote every month or four every day. It’s not a contest. Just another way of getting to know yourself. Nothing stopping you from adding a reflection or some words about how you were feeling when you wrote down the quote.

You’re doing all this for yourself when you sit down for a breather while out for a walk, one step at a time.

OK. Coffee break is over. Time to continue walking, one step at a time. But now that we’re refreshed let’s remember that one simple act of kindness can be picking up a few pieces of litter as we walk along, anonymously making the park or path more pleasant for others and ourselves.

Many parks have bench programs as well as a book from which you can select a quote.

* Our family sponsored a bench in Lake Park (Milwaukee, WI) and selected the quote in memory of my father-in-law. Across the path, a crab apple tree was planted in memory of his wife.

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Ken was a Professor of Mathematics, a ceramicist, a welder, and an IBMer until downsized in 2000. He taught yoga until COVID-19 decided otherwise. He continues writing, living with his wife and beagle in Shorewood, Wisconsin. He enjoys chamber music and mysteries. He’s a homebrewer and runs whitewater rivers. Ken is a writer and his literary works can be found at https://www.kmkbooks.com/

He welcomes feedback on his articles and can be reached at havokjournal@havokmedia.com.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.