body as nature - flow, rhythm, stillness

In a recent Saturday class, I introduced a new focus for Mindful Biology: finding nature in our own bodies. I believe this has always been the core message, though I've realized it only recently. One way to feel the reality of nature in our own biology is to focus on qualities that make nature feel so healing, and which also are easy to find inside the human body. I began with Flow, Rhythm, and Stillness. The text below is a brief summary of how each can be found and embraced. 

Flow is easily felt in the nasal airways, which convey atmospheric air from the nostrils to the throat (where it heads down to the lungs). We can feel a cool, fresh inflow that gets warmed and moistened as it passes over the convoluted airway surface. The air is heated, moistened, and cleansed in preparation for the delicate lungs. We feel the effect as a warm, soft outflow. When my mind and emotions feel jagged, I find it soothing to feel the alternating cool, fresh inflow and warm, soft outflow. It also helps to remember how flow in the airways is just one example of all that flows in nature: rivers, tides, breezes, even glaciers and continents.

Rhythm can be met in the steady, supportive diaphragm. When the dome-shaped muscled is active, its fibers contract and its body flattens and broadens, increasing the space in the chest cavity, so air flows in. When the muscle relaxes, its fibers lengthen and its body rises and narrows, so air flows out of the chest. The ribs and abdominal organs move in coordination, so breath involves the whole torso, including everything inside it. For me, orienting toward this deep, faithful muscle helps me feel steadied and more confident. It softens my tendency to doubt myself, doubt possibilities, etc. By feeling the steady diaphragm as it breaths—no matter what my mind is doing, no matter what the world is doing—I cultivate faith. Sometimes it helps to pause the breath at the end of exhalation, and notice how a sensation of eagerness builds in the area of the diaphragm. I see that eagerness  to breathe as a kind of fidelity, of fortitude. We didn’t work a lot with different breathing practices, but they are well-known to affect bodily state and emotional texture. In class, we slowed exhalation over several cycles, while letting inhalation flow in naturally and swiftly. Often, this practice gentles the system, inviting it to release tension. If we need a bit more zest, we can do the opposite: lengthen inhalation and exhaling with a sudden blowing out of air. This technique is called Kapalbhati breathing. It will be covered in the next mini-retreat, and good explanations can be found online, for instance via this link. 

Stillness is pervasive in nature, and it is also available in the body. The membrane that separates the atmosphere from the blood stream is just two cells thick. These cells are largely passive despite their crucial role in Life. By simply being present in their assigned location, they enable all the activities in our bodies. One way I find stillness in my body begins with a focus on  flow in the nasal airways and—simultaneously—the rhythm in the belly and diaphragm. Once I get the sense of these areas of activity, I invite awareness to embrace the relative stillness in between, in the spacious lungs. I notice how the chest wall is much less active, and the interior is very quiet. I gradually shift my focus to that interior stillness. If it happens that emotions in the chest area interfere, I switch to feeling the stillness of the atmosphere around my body. Even if a breeze is felt, the surrounding air has a quality of stillness that highlights how—no matter how much happens in our bodies or the world—there is steadiness and reliability in Life.