Take a Breath.

An Ordinary Life

As a young woman I became a follower, or "devotee", of a certain spiritual practice. At the time it seemed important to me that I live a life that I deemed "extraordinary". That it was a far reach from my upbringing in the Episcopalian Church helped. I practiced the simplest of spiritual teachings, but lived spiritual life that, well, showed. It seemed important to have as few possessions as possible, and I lived like a happy gypsy. I felt pretty special, but I never felt quite special enough.

What I love about my life today is its ordinary-ness. I no longer feel the need to be just a little different, or to stand out in a crowd. The funny thing about this, is that I may be, in the eyes of some people who love me, a little odd. At least that's what they tell me. I think I'm pretty normal, although, extremely above average. What odd about that?

My life with the Manly Spouse is so quiet and uneventful, miraculously drama-free. We putter around in a house that is too big for the two of us. We live in a clutter of furniture and flotsam collected over our years together and collectively sigh that we have too much stuff. We are attached to some of it, well I guess I should say I am attached to some and he is attached to the rest of it: a 200 year old piano I am unwilling to sell, even though it is unplayable, because it sat in the parlor of my parents' house forever. My husband's raggedy couch that is lumpy and threadbare and has an imprint of his body that ensures that it fits him just right. A dining room set that is too big for the dining room we use twice a year, but those couple of times of year are pretty important around here, so the rest of the year we use it for other things, like drying herbs (that drives the Manly Spouse crazy!)


These little worries are precious to me. They are reflective of the ordinary life we live. Together.

Paradoxically, when was in my 20s and I was trying to be extraordinary, I learned the value of a simple, physical existence. Now that I am older, and presumably wiser, I am able to enjoy the stuff of my life while experiencing a spiritual life that simple, easy, and unencumbered.

The Power of Breath

Here's an exercise:  take a breath; watch it go.  Take another breath; watch it go; repeat.  How simple is this?  Do you need a teacher? A book? A building?    I can't answer those questions for you, but if you watch long enough, or often enough you will understand its power.

When I was 21 I learned about the power of breath.  Such a simple thing:  after each exhale, an inhale. Personally, I didn't figure this out all by myself, there was a guru involved.  Yes, there were aspects of eastern philosophy involved.  Yes, in many ways it was a personality driven spiritual path, and oh, by the way,  from age 21 till I was about 24, I lived in a series of communes.

In some ways those few years were the happiest of my life.  Everything I owned fit in the trunk of my little car: some clothes, a guitar, a one-and-a-half-inch thick foam pad I rolled out for a bed, and a pair of Birkenstock sandals.   A nomad, I don't think I lived in one place for more than about three months at a time.  For a few months I stayed, along with about 300 other people, in a large building that had previously been a bottling factory for a major soft drink corporation.  For another little while I was a  "housemother",  cooking a huge vegetarian meal each evening.  I started every afternoon by chopping onions, and by the time I was done with that, the evening's menu would manifest in my brain.  Each morning, after putting out a breakfast spread, and making about 15 sack lunches, I would wake my housemates by walking from bedroom to bedroom playing guitar and  singing "devotional" songs.  But no matter where I laid my head at night, each morning and evening, along with my housemates, my closest friends, I  would sit and breathe for about an hour.

For the next 20 years life occurred.  The 20-ish girl became a mother, a wife.  Her babies became children, then young men. I breathed.

Stuff happened; the marriage became broken.   As a 40-ish woman, I was on my own again...still breathing.

More life happened.  I was learning to love myself again.    After years spent as the only female in an all male household, I surrounded myself with women I admired.   I went back to school and earned my college degree, then a masters degree. All the while, you guessed it, I continued to breathe.

Meanwhile, I met and married the Manly Spouse and his 13-year-old daughter.  Now my lovely daughter is married herself and has two beautiful children.  The handsome Older son has 5 (!), the beautiful Prodigal son has one.  Life has continued to happen.  And I am still in awe of the power that is my breath.  I am still watching, waiting for the gift of the next one.