How's My Breathing?

I woke up this morning with a lovely, precise memory of my grandmother's garden. She lived in an apartment, and her garden was a tall metal shelf of succulents that stood on her front "porch" that overlooked the apartment's common area. I'd sit way back on the deep metal seat of her lawn chair and rock, the chair back scraping the brick window sill. I watched my grandmother water the plants with a coffee can, pushing the stems aside with a gentle touch.

I loved the juicy spikes of aloe vera; the sweet rounded leaves of Adromischus; the deep green of the jade plants. The sprinkler that kept the rough St. Augustine grass green in the summer heat looked like a big silver grasshopper in the middle of the lawn. It hissed out an angry arc of water over a broad patch of grass. When the water reached the sidewalk, turning its edges a dark gray, the sprinkler tsked-tsked and reversed its arc.

Why did this memory come to me, so vividly and unbidden? Perhaps it was pushed to the surface of my consciousness by the showy yellow and red stems of bare dogwood that I have been admiring at the arboretum.

Perhaps also it's a memory-picture that holds the growing anticipation of my upcoming trip back home, to Texas, to honor the memories of my brother, my grandparents, and my aunt and two uncles who have passed away.

And I believe it was buoyed to the surface by a breathing workshop I took yesterday with Kath, a much-needed reminder to fill myself with breath, not just for life and health, but to fuel my creativity and hone my ability to focus. Especially helpful for boosting creativity is the breathing practice known as Nadi Shodana. I am so grateful for Kath's teachings, and for my writing teacher who constantly gives me tools to use in my writing and seeking, including bringing together a group of Wonder Women writers who are a joy to listen to.

Wishing you all a spring week of happy memories and deep breathing!