When I am so deeply drawn into my breath, I often notice that the breath almost cradles me. I feel as if I am being rocked gently back and forth within it’s ebb and flow. And my mind takes on a secondary experience. The breath draws me into the present, while my mind takes its little trips to the past and into the future. It continues to amaze me that the mind can go in and out of its stories, while the breath keeps drawing me into the immediacy of my experience. Into the here and now of my breath moving into my body, as my rib cage expands and my belly softens. And the breath exiting, as my structure draws into itself and into the earth. With each breath, I find a greater sense of foundation and a greater quality of being inward. As my mind softens, I begin to feel lighter in what is quite a full experience. And as my limbs go slightly numb, I begin to feel somewhat formless within my very form.
Lately, my meditation has been taking me to this softer place more quickly. I don’t expect this to always happen, nor for it to happen with any consistency. But I do look forward to visiting that place where I can play the witness more than the participant; where my breath becomes my refuge, opening me softly and compassionately to my field of experience.