My Rolfer and I decided that for this session we would give our attention to my breath. It’s something I take for granted and hold onto more than I realize. Since I’ve been so heavily involved in physical activity, both leisurely and professionally, my relationship to my respiratory system has become more like that of master and slave. My diaphragm has been cracking the whip on my lungs since I can remember. No one informed me about the musculature and mechanics responsible for this imbalance until much later in life. This pursuit was produced out of my own curiosity.
I didn’t start negotiating with my diaphragm until I started practicing meditation in my teens but even then I didn’t have an idea who or what was on the other end of the line. It was like I was playing around with a HAM radio hoping to get a response from somewhere. Like with many other parts of myself, the static between us was strong at first. Then I could catch sound of something...something that was unclear...maybe in Russian. Overtime the sound would get clearer and clearer until I had enough with which to respond and begin a conversation. Even in my early anatomy and physiology days at the gym and in the massage room the diaphragm remained a page stuck between the heart and abdominal organs. I brushed on it but never understood it as I did the musculature of my arm. It’s very easy to get a sense of my arm. I can look at it, feel it, flex it, break it, and so on. I couldn’t see my diaphragm so I wasn’t immediately attracted to it. I didn’t know it as I did other things about me yet it has more influence on me than many of these things combined.
I imagine this disconnect and inability to differentiate myself from this structure within comes from a long history of retention and a subconscious fear that’s more physically substantiated now than it was psychologically. It may have been as early as a being involved in a complicated birth for all I know. Or from spending a lot of time on edge...ready to move...needing to go...ready to run...inhaling in preparation for something stressful but never letting go of anything. That’s where my exhale comes in, which my Rolfer and I determined there was an imbalance. My instinct is to hold things in...beliefs, thoughts, words, actions, breath, worry, hope, desire, misery. It’s all in my ribs and belly and they’re ballooning out more and more as each year passes. The space inside my ribs can’t seem to stretch enough and the space around my heart gets smaller and smaller, making it impossible to settle.
With the work we’ve done so far something has changed for me. I think it’s reaching a stronger level of awareness. I’m mainly talking about getting a felt sense of what my diaphragm is doing and beginning to have a discussion with it as to why it does what it does. I catch myself asking it to let go of my lungs and just do its part in its relationship with everything else. This is a task of differentiation, meaning that my diaphragm learns that it is not the master directing how oxygen circulates. It doesn’t have to pull anything down...all it has to do is create space and, lo’ and behold, the lungs accept it with gratitude and, wouldn’t you know it, they’re not as greedy. They’re not as subject to my subconscious as my diaphragm and thus are not as subject to a history of anxiety.
I maintained that awareness during our session. I concentrated on allowing air to flow into the space of my lungs without sucking air. I tried to feel as much of my diaphragm settling down onto my stomach and lifting off with each exhale. I tried to feel my lungs respond to such changes in space. Even with after so much training dedicated to breath I still find this a difficult thing to do. I still was overwhelmed by the tightness in my chest and abdomen. Something was and is definitely stuck there or holding on. I knew what the problem was but didn’t know how to fix it. Then I learned how to fix it but I didn’t have the right tools.
My Rolfer guided my breath during the session throughout my entire lung space; front to back, side to side, above and below. I could definitely get a deeper sense ease and exhale but something held on. Then she said I didn’t have to hold on and I took that in a very internal way, I took it personally. It wasn’t the breath I was holding onto as much as it was my love of times, people, and places in the past. With each exhale I visualized letting each one go. I’ve held onto loss and heartbreak and so that became the nature of that space. It became a representation of disintegration and I cheated my way through it by living with it as one lives with ghosts. They occupied the space and kept anything rejuvenating from entering because I knew it meant they’re eviction.
By the end of it I had a smooth and rhythmic pattern of breathing complete with an exhale and less holding in my upper body. I felt at ease, happy, and relaxed and as if it would be a good time to go grieve somewhere for my losses. They come back though. They always do and I don’t think there’s much wrong in being in love with memories. Just as long as the relationship between us remains active and vibrant as if they were still alive and well, taking in and letting go, giving and receiving. I guess it’s just a matter of becoming more and more aware of every second of every minute of every day. In that awareness lies the power to differentiate myself from what is not me (i.e. the past) and when I have a sense of separation then I can establish a connection, a line of communication, where no one is blind and the relationship is that like the tenderest of lovers.
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