And the Lord God...breathed into his face the breath of life and so man became a living being.
Genesis 2:7
I was driven from the chapel Saturday by incense. Odd, that, but I simply couldn't breathe. I went up to my room and worked at breathing for a while. That was followed by a deep sleep.
When I read about cultivating silence, the author, whether Catholic, Christian or non-religious inevitably brings the discussion to breathing. Control your breathing, concentrate on your breathing, become aware of your breathing. Silent prayer, truly silent prayer in which you quiet the chatter in your head, usually involves the sound of your own breathing. I've come to see that as focusing on the point at which God holds you, oh so quietly, into existence, the tipping point between being and not being. At some point in faith you ought to be able to give it over utterly to Him. I don't know that I've ever gotten that far.
Asthma is a reminder of my frailty. Breath comes, and it could leave me. I am utterly dependent on God in the meantime.
No one can come to the Father except through me. (John 14:6)
One person's lamp-lit journey with some baggage and few maps.
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