10/12/2026
As I announced the passing of my dad, I wrote about not being able to catch my breath. It's ironic, really, because that year was the beginning of finding it. Of building a relationship with the very essence of my Breath. In several languages, the word for breath and the word for spirit are the same. It's been a wondrous journey to innerstand why.
I used to think of breath as something my body did. An automatic function. Something I could take for granted because it would always be there, faithfully moving in and out of my lungs without requiring much of my attention.
Until life brought me to my knees.
Until grief made it difficult to breathe.
Until I began to discover that there was so much more happening in that simple, seemingly ordinary act of drawing air into my body and releasing it again.
Breath became a doorway. A way back to myself when I'd wandered too far away. A place to meet the parts of me I'd learned to ignore, override, or tuck away in an effort to navigate a world that doesn't always make room for our humanity. Sometimes, it was a lifeline. Sometimes, a teacher. Sometimes, the gentlest reminder that I was still here, still feeling, still connected to something far greater than the stories I'd been telling myself about who I needed to be.
It was about learning to listen instead of constantly trying to fix. To allow instead of control. To create space for what was true, even when the truth was messy, uncomfortable, or nothing like what I thought it should be. And maybe this is why the connection between breath and spirit resonates so deeply with me.
Because Spirit, as I experience it, isn't something separate from the messy, beautiful experience of being human. It's not something I have to transcend my humanity to touch. It's right here. In the ache. In the laughter. In the tears that come when something finally softens. In the moment I stop holding my breath against my own life and allow myself to actually be here for it. In the quiet miracle of being alive.
I couldn't catch my breath when I lost my dad. I had no idea that the journey ahead would lead me into a relationship with Breath that would change the way I understand myself, my body, my spirit, and my place in this world.
I couldn't have known that something so fundamental to my existence would become a passion, a practice, a calling.
That I would one day sit with other human beings as they find their way back to themselves, one breath at a time.💖
I'm still learning. Still listening. Still discovering the layers of wisdom held within something I've been doing since the moment I entered this world.
And that's part of the magic.
We don't have to go looking for anything we think we're missing.
What if the way home is already moving through us, in every breath.🐦🔥🔥🌬
