The body is a microcosm of the universe. The universe expands and contracts and so, too, does the body. In spring and summer we feel the expansion of the season opening us up as the world itself opens with leaves and flowers. In fall and winter the life force of trees contract back into their trunks, the animals hibernate, and we humans find rest and self-reflection. Every breath contains an expansion and a contraction. On the inhale our lungs fill, expanding our muscle fibers, compressing our organs with air. On the exhale our lungs contract, like a pump moving qi and blood through the body.
In human society an overabundance of Yang, when it falls out of service to Yin, looks like toxic masculinity, over-controlling governments, war, and hoarding of resources. Without enough Yin, there is a sense of scarcity of substance and an overabundance of movement that is chaotic and disruptive. Yang-dominant symptoms are often parallel with the fallout from living with chronic stress in a sympathetic nervous system state of fight or flight. That Yang aspect of the sympathetic nervous system must be balanced by the parasympathetic “rest and digest” for our bodies to function and thrive.
Ritual is intentional. So much of what we do on the day-to-day can be done without intention or even presence. But then we miss the opportunity to bring intention and meaning into the way we do the dishes or walk the dog. Grooming is an opportunity for self care and self love. Cooking is a way to nourish ourselves and our pods. Finding creativity in the way we approach our outfit choices for the day or our kitchen organization expresses our unique identity and moves liver qi that is constrained by all the sitting and stressing we are doing during the pandemic.
Breathing is how we let the world in. It is our moment-to-moment interaction with the world. We take in air. We take in the tiny particles of the world. We release our breath, we send little bits of ourselves into the world.
It seems likely that each of us has some important work to do in this lifetime. And I don’t mean the capitalist-style, work-your-butt-off-make-the-money-til-you-die kind of important work. Our work might be creative. Or invisible. It might be transformative. It might not show up in our lifetime, lost in the stream of a shifting, changing world. Our work might be about learning how to love deeply. Or making beautiful things that enrich other people’s experience of being alive.
