Breathe

The seemingly "in" thing to write about on blogs this new year is the ONE WORD that will define 2012 for you. As I've read other people's words, inevitably, without even thinking about it, the word that pops into my head each and every time is "breathe." This word is fitting for me on so many levels. I get paralyzed sometimes, frozen with stress, anxiety, insecurity, inferiority, sadness... When I really pay attention to what's happening on a very literal physical level with my body, I realize I'm not taking full breaths. I am breathing quickly with shallow breaths that don't fill my lungs completely. When I recognize this and force myself to breathe deeply, my lungs fill up, the oxygen makes its way through my system, and I relax a little bit and then a little bit more.

On more of a figurative level, BREATHE means for me to experience life more deeply. To breathe it all in. There's nothing I love more than to stop in the middle of a hike at high altitude, mountains towering up on all sides of me, and take one of those really full breaths that fills your lungs completely. To smell the pine trees. Time seems to stop, colors are more vivid, sounds of birds are magnified, and everything is perfect for just that one moment. Or, when I'm going through the motions of getting my child ready -- changing diapers, giving baths, taking one soiled outfit off and sliding on another one, chasing after the giggling naughty little stinker, scooping him up into my arms, and breathing in the sent of his warm little head. That moment is heaven. And I remember why I do everything in my life. The things that are really important. And the things that really aren't important at all.

I also want to BREATHE more this year at times when I might have spoken too quickly in the past. I want to take a deep breath, bite my tongue, and bide my time as the moment passes. Or until someone else says the thing that I wanted to say, and they can take the heat for it instead of me. I want to breathe and let the anger and frustration leave my system as I exhale. Because it really isn't worth it. And then I can do the things that need to be done, I can pack up my bag, turn off the light in my office, lock the door, walk out to my car. I can breathe the crisp winter air as I drive home to the people who are worth all of my time and my words. I can snatch them into my arms, squeeze them tightly, feel how tiny and human they are, and I can breathe deeply and be thankful.