On Breath, a Reflection from Esther de Waal, and Finding God in the Ordinary
A Note from Me
I’ve noticed that when life feels scattered, I come back to something simple—my breath prayers. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It’s almost too ordinary to notice, yet it’s always there. Sometimes I notice I’m doing it without much thought, sometimes I breathe on purpose. Either way, it’s a constant companion.
What I like about this practice is how unremarkable it is. It doesn’t require a book, a journal, or an app. I don’t have to schedule it or pack it along. All I have to do is pay attention. That’s why I’ve made it the heart of my Rule of Life. I pair my breath with the Jesus Prayer, and together they become a rhythm that carries me: through the day, through my life.
There’s something I like about this. The spiritual life isn’t always about adding more. Sometimes it’s about noticing what’s already here. My breath reminds me that God is near, not far off. Transformation doesn’t happen by chasing the extraordinary but by attending to the ordinary, over and over again.
Maybe this week you could notice your breath too. What if each inhale and exhale was a reminder that you are alive, sustained, and not alone?
A Voice from the Past
“To be aware of my breathing is to be aware of life. Breath and spirit are one in the Hebrew word ruah. What amazing generosity of a God to give us this gift which we have in abundance throughout our lives and yet can so easily take for granted.
Then, as I stay consciously with my breath, I may begin to see this gentle rhythm of breathing in and then breathing out again as a microcosm of my whole life: that first breath which I took in at birth; that last breath that I shall take when I die and give my life back to God.”
–Esther de Waal, Lost in Wonder
A Question to Carry
Where do you see God in the ordinary rhythms of your life?
With you in the simple things,
—Jon



"Transformation doesn’t happen by chasing the extraordinary but by attending to the ordinary, over and over again."
That gives words to my life right now. So good, Jon! Thank you. February in Michigan feels like attending to the ordinary, over and over again--the ordinary of encouraging myself out of bed (every day, it turns out) and plodding across the dark house to that morning chair, when I feel like I'm a plate of cold leftovers. =P