Breathing Lessons

    This summer I've been taking breathing lessons. 

    That sounds dumb. We all know how to breathe, don't we?

    If I say I'm taking pranayama lessons, it sounds more reasonable, and, actually that's what it is. But what is pranayama except a way to breathe?

    I'm learning, then, to breathe well. I'm learning to breathe deeply, letting the air begin in the pelvic floor and rise to the top of the ribs and the chest. I'm learning to let the ribs dictate the flow of air. I'm learning to breathe slowly and smoothly, which isn't as easy as it sounds. I listen to the breath as it goes through the windpipe, through the throat. When I try to get the air all the way to the top of the chest, I hear it becoming rough and forced. The idea is to get the air to flow into the body as you desire it to but not to force it to do that. The idea is to be completely relaxed. The idea is to open the chest and let the air come in. When I try to force the breath, I tense up somewhere, usually in my hands. A few recovery breaths allow me to check the body for tension and to relax again.

    I decided to join my yoga teacher's pranayama class (by Zoom) when she offered it two months ago because I thought it would help me deal with my husband's recent death. I thought it would help me grapple with grief. I thought good breathing might be the key to acceptance or recovery or peace or whatever it is I need to find at this moment.

    Certainly I was right about all that, but I hadn't realized how difficult pranayama would be, and, after all, I was surprised at how much good it did me, too. Concentrating on nothing but the breath for half an hour is a deeply meditative activity. I can't be thinking of anything else, like the useless sort of wishing Mike were here that I so easily fall into, and emotions can't creep in or overwhelm me because there's no room for that if I am trying to breathe well. 

    I was also surprised at how complex pranayama is, how many different ways there are to do it: the long, slow ujjayi breath lying down, the ujjayi breath seated, half closing the nostrils for the inbreath, half closing them for the exhale, closing one nostril and then the other, learning to make the sound in the throat with both the inhale and the exhale—and lots more. 

    I just signed up for my third month of lessons. I don't aspire to being a pranayama yogi, but the classes are doing for me what I wanted them to do. They are good for me, and I am enjoying the practice. Certainly I can breathe without knowing pranayama, but knowing it, I breathe better, my posture is better, and my emotional equilibrium is better. That's reason enough to learn some pranayama.