Emerging Women

By Krista Finch

Remember – the root word of humble and human is the same: humus: earth. We are dust. We are created; it is God who made us and not we ourselves.
– Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water

As I inhaled and exhaled in concert with the Ashtanga Yoga poses I attempted, I felt it. Felt it toe-tip to scalp. Felt it in my bones and in my soul. It reminded me of the mist that fell on us and the Yountville appellation each morning we spent in Napa. It was a refreshing. A re-birthing. A glimpse of wholeness.

Breathe.

Since Jude rocked our world back in July, important things like exercise, slowness, and breathing have gotten lost in the cracks and crevices of parenthood. Of course, proper priority says that raising a child is the most important thing we can do with our time and energy. But wisdom would also add that you can’t raise a child well if you are unwell. And as I leaned back in child’s pose, the fibers of carpet tickling the tip of my nose, I knew what I had to do.

Breathe.

Science tells us that when we breathe, we eliminate 70% of the toxins in our body. And I haven’t been breathing. I suppose that’s why I’ve felt like a cesspool in so many areas of my life. Scattered. Weary. Tired. Unbalanced. Frustrated. Harried. Hurried. Torn. Undone. Disconnected. Fragmented. Gross.

Breathe.

As I rose from Mrtasana, also known as Corpse Pose, I felt alive. Although this pose’s name literally means “death,” the instructor on my yoga video explains that this is the most restorative and important pose in yoga. That something must die so that we can truly live.

Breathe.

After rising quietly from my final pose, I looked at the calendar. February 17. Ash Wednesday. First day of the Lenten season. I marked the day with the wispy writing: Breathe. This year, for Lent, I will breathe.

I continued breathing as I picked up our bonus room. And, as I did, I heard something new as the rhythm of my breath accompanied a deeper rhythm. This year, rather than giving something up for Lent, I would take something in, knowing full well that this would still require a giving up, a kind of dying. Dying to tasks that stroke my need for perfection. Dying to distractions that overstimulate. Dying to loves that poison any hope of peace.

Receive.

Breathe.

Talitha koum. Rise up, little girl.

And along with each breath, a prayer that I would experience God’s nearness so deeply that his very breath would be mine.

Then the LORD God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being. [Genesis 2:7]

Krista Finch is a wife, mom and author seeking wholeness in the tension of a malfunctioning world. In her recent book, As Is, and on her site KristaFinch.com, she digs into the mundane majesty of life here and now.

Tags: Krista Finch, Lent, yoga