Breathe In, Breathe Out...Stop Suffocating and Learn to Fly

Too Old for This Sh*t: How to Take Your Life Back from an Ageist Society

To buy Amanda Cass art please see https://scootercg.com.au/product-category/greeting-cards/amanda-cass/

I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to. But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. You may not know where you're going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you.

~ C. JoyBell C.

If you get nothing else out of this article, just read the above and see if it doesn’t soften your day.

The rest of us, let’s talk.

My friend Melissa sends me wonderful stuff on Messenger all the time. This picture of Amanda Cass art and the accompanying statement landed yesterday, and it was such a gift.

It’s also the inspiration for today’s writing because of one of the comments beneath this offering. The woman wrote:

I hate it. I feel like I can’t breathe.

On one hand, I understand this. Been there myself.

On the other, this condition is chosen. Okay, so spit at me. Our emotions are something we can choose. We can learn to negotiate terms with them.

We can also use fear and dread as the very stepping stones we need in order to grow, but only if we breathe in where we are.

Only then does the prison of rigid resistance release us. Then we can float, fly and feel free.

It always and forever begins with our breathing: at birth, and every step along the way, until we breathe in no more.

Every so often, sometimes for years at a time, we can find ourselves suspended. That often happens during major life transitions, after a big event or loss. Those who have a very hard time with living in the question, living in the not knowing, can be frozen with dread.

Yet no matter what stories we tell ourselves, life continues to go on around us. We can grow and change and shift. The seasons swirl by, and Nature presents Herself in all Her glory.

Days pass and the years vanish, and we walk sightless among miracles.-

From the Mishkan T’filah, “A Prayer for Shabbat”

All religions invite us to notice what is miraculous around us. The angrier we are, the more we scroll, the more we troll, the less we see that which would transform. We are surrounded by magic, all day every day.

Let’s pull out for a moment.

Today my dog and I were out for a three-mile hike. Along the way are arching thatches of blackberry bushes, now laden with truly sun-ripened berries.

This particular cluster was well out of reach, because other walkers had already stripped the low-hanging fruit closest to the sidewalk. You bet, they have been my morning fiber source for about a week.

However, if I wanted those berries, I was in for a struggle, some bloody cuts and maybe shredded clothing.

All berry pickers know the trade-off. If you’re a fan of blackberries, you know that the pain is worth it.

We’re given all kinds of prizes to reach for. Plenty of them involve pain. Most are worth it.

Sometimes that pain is to be hung between the trapezes for a good long time.

I’m there right now.

Like millions of Americans, most particularly of a Certain Age, I’m at a significant crossroad.

This administration has stripped a good many of us Boomers of whatever we might have once believed to be a relatively secure future. Barring the popular accusations by Xers and Millennials that we’re filthy rich (some are, most aren’t), a goodly number of us are peering into fog trying to figure out what the flame hill is next.

As I am finally beginning to claw back my fitness to a level I’m pleased with, my options have changed. I need to sell my house at a time when it’s now a buyer’s market.

There’s a lot of inventory, which means it might not sell. At least not at a price that allows me to move on.

Then, I’ve no clue where I will move next. Stay in Eugene? Move to the Coast? Move to Ecuador or another expat haven? I have no idea.

There are small homes and condos near or on the Coast, but the HOA fees are heart-attack high. Smaller homes in Eugene are so pricey it’s hardly a cost savings. Bet lots of you can relate.

Ecuador is still on the table. I’m heading back in November. Who knows if that’s the right thing to do?

I am utterly clueless.

All I can do right now is steadily pack up the house, do the research, and do my level best to breathe in the beauty of where I live right now.

I’m hanging fire.

Photo by Fatih on Unsplash

I’m going to make a broad binary statement here, so you folks with the psych background please allow me this conceit.

Generally you could say that a good portion of us thrive in the not-knowing. In fact when we’re in transition, the stripping away of all the things we know is a form of freedom. We can get very creative; it’s fun and energizing.

If anything, returning to norms, schedules and expectations is a disappointment.

That’s not to say we don’t have moments of fear or panic when we really would like a little clarity. We do. However, for the most part, the lack of it isn’t a life sentence.

I credit skydiving with giving me a very different understanding of uncertainty. You never know if your chute will fail (mine has, twice) and you never know how you’re going to respond (I’m still here, so there’s that).

That would be me on the far left.

Trusting that I could fly my body and respond to emergencies as necessary had unintended consequences. I don’t panic. I might vomit after a major emergency or get the shakes long afterwards, but in the moment, I am present and accounted for. In fact, my most common response to extreme emergency is laughter.

I can have my stress response later.

Either way, I’ve learned to breathe through it.

Another goodly portion of us, like our friend who can’t breathe, above, struggle terribly without a sense of direction, control and agency. Take away the guard rails, they flail and struggle.

They will often try to impose norms and schedules well before it’s time, which can be counter-productive.

For those of you who fall into this category, I heartily recommend this article from Greater Good Magazine which discusses how to handle those feelings and what you can do to build “mental agility.”

Greater Good has quite the selection of articles on anxiety and uncertainty, which speaks to how we are or aren’t thriving right now. That said, please peruse and see which of them speaks to you.

At this point I’ll direct you to re-read C. JoyBell C.’s words about wings, above.

We can’t unfurl the wings we were given if we can’t breathe. All of us were meant to fly in some way. Some really do fly (like flying sports), some emotionally, some mentally; all of us are able to float.

She says, and this is the point:

Trained myself to love it.

It always and forever begins with us, with the breath, with having faith. With choices around how we see ourselves and the Universe around us.

When I am willing to see the world’s beauty instead of its perceived threat, I am uplifted. When I choose to see the flower even though I know that there is suffering, I can breathe. Both can exist.

When I trust that no matter where the winds take me, I will find my way, I am calmed.

None of this comes easily. It can be particularly challenging if you, like me, were subjected to sexual trauma or some other offense, especially while young.

That said, when you begin there, and build your wings anyway, they are even stronger.

Photo by Alexander Andrews on Unsplash

You and I are walking miracles. If you doubt that, please see this from Bill Bryson’s magnificent book The Body: A Guide for Occupants.

That we were even born is a miracle of pure happenstance and luck.

That said, we are cosmic dust. We are made of Universal starstuff. Pure walking, talking, breathing magic.

Yet far too many of us are wasting our shine on worry, terror, fear and dread.

Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash

I’ve done it myself. Had to train myself to see differently. Breathe.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning lived with terrible pain and possibly tuberculosis, sickly all her life. Despite this she was one of the most celebrated poets of the Victorian Era, which is why I quote her here.

She wrote:

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

I’m still going to pluck the early fall blackberries. But as I do it, I am full of gratitude for the tiny miracles with which we are all surrounded, even in a world so full of pain. .

Breathe, and in breathing, unfurl.

May your wings take you to amazing places.

Let’s play.

Photo by Graphic Node on Unsplash

This article is dedicated first to the many and superb Substack writers (FAR too many to list) who write so eloquently about their struggles, their journeys and their love of life no matter what. You are already in flight, and thank you for helping soothe so many of us.

It is especially dedicated to those who are just now beginning to unfurl. Oh, the adventures ahead of you.

Please consider