Poetry about balance ft. Rumi

#07 - When poetry reminds us to breathe

Hi friends, 

Last weekend I had the opportunity to become certified in facilitating one-on-one breathwork sessions, led by one of my favorite local instructors Robert Bahedry. 

Many things came up for me throughout this two-day trip into the underworld of my emotions, many of which I'm still processing. But the biggest takeaway – which is the same takeaway I had after my very first breathwork class – is the power of breath. 

Isn’t it pretty amazing that we all have a built-in "technology" for altering our present moment? Breath grounds us; it energizes us; it calms us; and, in the case of the breathwork I'm now trained in, it brings us into our theta brain state. AKA the brain frequency between sleep and wakefulness, associated with creativity, intuitive insights, and dreaming. 

My fellow breathwork trainees and instructor, Robert.

I know ... this is not a breathwork community! It's a poetry one. But the connections between breath and poetry aren’t hard to make. Breath is intrinsic to poetry – it shapes line breaks and informs rhythm, among other things.

Today, I want to share a Rumi poem with you all since I’m admittedly in a bit of a Rumi phase over here. It's called "Birdwings," and it was published in The Essential Rumi, New Expanded Edition (HarperCollins, 2004) translated by Coleman Barks. 

Although this poem doesn't specifically mention breath, I can't help but feel its presence here. I wonder what you'll find in these short verses: 

Birdwings

Your grief for what you've lost lifts a mirror
up to where you're bravely working. 

Expecting the worst, you look, and instead, 
here's the joyful face you've been wanting to see. 

Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
If it were always a fist or always stretched open, 
you would be paralyzed. 

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting
                                                                           and expanding,
the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated 
as birdwings. 

---

What a profound poem. The concept of contracting and expanding reminds me of breathing – inhaling and exhaling. I love the visual metaphor of birdwings, too. It brings to mind flight, how birds have to spread their wings and bring them back in to gain any momentum.

I’m curious: What lines stand out to you? How does this poem make you feel? Did you, like me, re-read the first stanza multiple times, jaw dropped?

A beautiful image of a seagull in flight, taken by my mom who lives on the Rhode Island coast.

Before you close this email, I’d love to invite you to take a big inhale. Really milk it! Feel all the muscles in your shoulders and neck contract. Then exhale, loudly. And let something go. Did you feel the expansion?

Thanks for being here ❤️ And PS: if my rambling about breathwork made you curious, respond to this email! I’d love to facilitate a breathwork meditation with you.

Remember to breathe,
Allison