Breathing… Now where does that come from? And where does it go?
I’m an Irish Presbyterian. All talk and no contemplation. Praying recently with an Irish Catholic, I’ve started noticing how wordy and fidgetty I am, how unaccustomed to receiving each breath as a gift, and giving it back as a prayer. God’s fresh air is starting to permeate my whole being, like the oxygen journeying from nose to lungs into the haemoglobin in every depth and extremity of my body. If that sort of life gets into me… well, who knows where it will go?
I’d best get back to my shallow breathing light-headedness. Things to do, people to save, worlds to change. Scared if I pay too much attention I’ll realise how unimportant I am.
Oh! too late.
Thanks for inviting me to Attend.