I remember when I started leading group workshops, I was asking myself about what should I start with? What would be the common aspect that would help us as a group to come together, connect and feel at ease? Which concrete tool I could share so when the session ends, everyone could feel that “I have it! I feel I know what to do”?
Breathing came as the first thought.
Not the science of breathing - though that's fascinating. Not complex techniques or specialized practices. Just the invitation to meet ourselves exactly where we are. To notice: Is my breath short or long? Deep or shallow? Free or constricted? Where does it start? Where can I feel it the most?
We began each session this way. Some participants sat upright, others stood or lay down. Hands rested on chests or bellies. The only instruction: feel where and how you breathe. Just that.
The power of this moment never ceased to amaze me. In that simple awareness, the group found its common ground. We began the session rooted in our breath.
When Breath Meant Everything
I learned the true depth of breathing's significance not in a workshop, but in a hospital room.
My son was born prematurely. When he was still tiny, he contracted RSV - a respiratory virus that sent us to intensive care. For eight days, in a coma, a respirator helped him fight for his life. Each rise and fall of his chest and belly carried weight I'd never known before.
I sat beside him, helpless in every practical way. The only thing I could do - the only thing that felt right - was to be present and breathe with him.
It took over two years to recover from that illness. Two years of heightened awareness of his breath. And in watching him so closely, I reconnected with my own breathing in a way
I never had before. Somehow, this simple synchronization - being close and breathing together - became our pathway to recovery and safety. And a deep-rooted connection that has been evolving with the passing time.
What Breath Carries
Breathing is always with us. It doesn't leave when we make poor decisions or feel depleted. It remains with us whether we're falling in love or facing failure, celebrating success or drowning in loneliness. It changes but is still there.
Beyond its physiological mechanics - the intricate dance of oxygen, carbon dioxide, muscles, nerves and hormones - breathing carries something more profound. It is our unique signature of life, a living record of our body, mind, and spirit in this moment.
Our breathing pattern reflects how we perceive the world and our place in it. It holds echoes of our past and shapes our capacity for the future. But its true gift is simpler: it anchors us in the present.
Breathing is conversation. With ourselves and with the world around us. It is receiving and giving, movement and stillness, expansion and release. When we breathe together - in a workshop, beside a hospital bed, or simply sharing space - we shape each other's state without saying a word.
By giving ourselves time and space to observe our breath, we discover the strength that lives within us. We recognize our profound connection to one another. And we learn that we can work with our breath, cooperating with it gently to help us move through life's challenges with more presence and flexibility.
A Practice: Meeting Your Breath
Take a few minutes during your day to feel your breath. This isn't about changing anything - just noticing.
Begin with these questions:
• Which nostril is your breath flowing through? Or are you breathing through your mouth?
• What moves when you inhale? Your chest? Your belly? Both?
• What's the rhythm? Is the inhale quick or slow? How about the exhale?
• Where does your breath feel easy? Where does it feel restricted?
Stay with whatever you find. Don't judge it. Don't fix it. Simply acknowledge and observe.
Notice what this brief encounter offers you. Perhaps sensations in your body. Perhaps emotions rising to the surface. Perhaps thoughts or images. Perhaps nothing at all but quiet presence.
Whatever arises, that's your experience in this moment.
That is Your Pulse of Life.
Love, Ewa:)