When the breath speaks for us

I Am a fiend of the air. An asthmatic who breathes in spurts. To shots. Half the year I’m low lung capacity due to allergies, the remaining six months I forget about the gaps and I’m going to full breast. Unimpeded alveolar. Hence, to evaluate the inhalation and exhalation of breath, as if they were some precious stones. An intangible asset that allows me to enjoy the sport and background of the life. But what I didn’t know until this week was that the breathing spoke for me. That is a powerful tool for diagnosis, able to move your mood. Let Me explain.

Months ago, Isabel Serrano Rosa, the psychologist of ZEN, our Sunday supplement of well-being, he proposed to me in his prologue to his book, Breathing joy (published by Sphere). A manual designed to return to the positivism vital through breathing. I read it and wrote a few lines from the uncertainty of the asthmatic. The book is now on sale, and with it came another invitation from Elizabeth: “John, come and try a session. I want to teach you the technique.”

Lying on a futon I began to breathe at my whim. Feeling observed and protected at all times. Entered the air and filled my gut. He left the dioxide and I emphasize the ribs. All very calm, very focused in the navel area. And the oxygen began to speak for me. It turns out that my breathing shows a lock. The drawer of the sadness go full and outside of my scope. I imagine that I don’t want to pull him, do not go to be that I find with the hurricane of the Pandora’s Box. This immobility puts him tripping to the joy, because the body behaves like a swiss watch well oiled. When you stop for a toothed wheel, fall behind the second hand of life and that’s not what I’m going to allow. The good news is that this evil can be cured by breathing. Waving the air internal. Or that’s what I says Isabel. “Practice the repair 4/8”. Inhale through the nose, which long drink, counting up to four. No rush. The air pipe into the stomach, the upper area… To see if it breaks the levees emotional. Then exhale also through the nose, and counting up to eight. By the way, I visualize happy times, I am enveloped by the rays oranges of the sun, I lit the smile in spite of the diagnosis. And the life started again.

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