B is for Breathing

B is for Breathing

“Inhale…Exhale. Inhale…Exhale.”

The voice of my yoga instructor reverberated off the walls of the studio, as I lay inΒ Shavasana. The sound was a calming force, and I let my limbs relax into a supine langour.

Time has always been a driving force in my life. I was the one who reached college half an hour early every morning. At weddings, I was in attendance before the couple made their entrance. At events, I invariably made sure I was in the first three rows.

Tapping my foot impatiently, waiting for other people? That was me, every day.

All of that punctuality and obsession took a seat on the farthest back burner, much to my horror, a little over seven years ago.

The reason was a tiny, talkative bundle of exuberance called Gy. With her arrival, everything changed. I was excited, thrilled, sleep -deprived, frantic with worry when she fell ill and grateful beyond words when she smiled.

And, oh, I lost my track record of being on time.

Now, it was always a mad rush out the door, when we left for a wedding. Followed by three trips back into the house, since I would have forgotten her diapers or her teether or a warm jacket.

I was the one walking into an event and seeing those foot-tapping people, waiting for me!

As she grew up, I consoled myself that things would improve. She was my daughter, right? Β She would value time. She would be punctual. She would be the first one to jump out of bed in the morning. It’s in the genes, I reasoned.

Sigh, you know where this is going.

Gy is the child who will stop and stare at a frog on the sidewalk, because it looked ‘tired’.

She delights in rushing to the front of the line at the bus stop, only to give up her place to go and stand with her close friend who arrives ten minutes later, right at the back of the line.

As we walked briskly to her dance class this evening, she stopped short, asked me to walk ahead and knelt by a bush. After a minute, I looked for her, while anxiously glancing at my watch.

She ran towards me, breathless and happy and asked me to open my hand. In it, she placed this.

Looking at the sheer beauty of the flower, I beamed and hugged her. My step slowed and I took her hand in mine.

The voice of the instructor was echoing in my head.

Learning to slow down and breathe is so important, not because it’s necessary, but because it’s relaxing.

Because it’s beautiful.

Because it’s worth doing.

Because the time is now and being in the present is the best thing possible.

Linking up with ABC Wednesday

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0 thoughts on “B is for Breathing

  1. You sound just like me…having been a teacher all my life, everything was time-related. Opening exercises at 9 am, penmanship at 9:05, open your Math books at 9:15, etc. etc. Now I have to purposely NOT look at my watch and force myself to take in the moment. It's hard!

    abcw team

  2. Lovely take for the letter B :).. and coming from a family with a super-punctual dad, I can so relate to this! Kids always show us the best way of looking at the world πŸ™‚

  3. Oh what a lesson this is. I was you too. Slowing down is so much fun sometimes. There's this lovely poem by William Henry Davies..

    What is this life if full of care,
    We have no time to stand and stare..

    Do check it out if you have time.

  4. I used to be hyper-punctual, but motherhood changed all that for me, too. Part of it is being tired and having more stuff, part of it is my son's personality. He doesn't like to be rushed, and he loves to stop and look at things like Gy.

  5. “Because the time is now and being in the present is the best thing possible.”

    Thank you for this lovely post. I've been dealing with anxiety for so long, and this is one of the things I've got to keep in mind. I love the way you've summed it up so simply; that one sentence says so much. I've written that down and taped it to the wall.

  6. Leave it to a child to teach us what is truly important in life. They have a way of forcing us to slow down and really be aware and present, don't they!?

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