“Spirit” is a word that is deeply rooted in the concept of breath. In Greek, the word is pneuma, in Hebrew it is ruach. Both have a depth of meaning: wind, breath, spirit. At every level of meaning, however, there seems to be the common theme of movement, of life. The Spirit of God brooded over the waters in the very beginning, when the universe was waste and void. Was God calling forth her brood? And God breathed life into Adam and Eve in the Garden, giving them animation--bestowing them with soul and with motivation. In the ancient Christian baptismal rite, after the adult catechumens were brought up from the water, the bishop would puff warm breath into their noses and mouths. It was a symbol not only of a new creation, like Adam, but it was also the giving of the Holy Spirit, which Christ first gave the disciples when he appeared to them after the resurrection. Jesus breathed upon them, they in turn breathed upon us, and we breathe upon others, imparting the Word and the ruach of communion, love, faith, hope and joy.
Reflecting on the biblical and ritual spirations of my faith, I examine my experience of life. And I realize that life itself has a respiration of its own. It is this concept that inspires the following exhalation.
“Respiration” means “to breathe again.” It connotes a cycle, or at least it implies that something has stopped only to begin again, to begin anew. I breathe in our oxygen/nitrogen/etc. air and breathe it out. Then I must do the same thing all over again, which, thankfully, I do without thinking. That next breath is the same action, and yet it is a new breath. Life, particularly because of the way we experience time (which is a fascinating topic, destined for another blogpost), can be described in the same way: we are the same living thing, but are new every moment. That is, every moment is new, and yet it is the same life that transpires.
“Transpires” means “to breathe through.” I wrote this blog, while breathing. The writing of this blog transpired. It has also transpired that you have read it (or at least most of it...so far). We use the word to indicate something that has happened or that has taken place--as I have just demonstrated. Life is a transpiration. Not only do we breathe as we travel across the plains of our life...we breathe through life...but also we continue on in time, for the whole of our lives, as life itself is busy with respirations.
What do I mean when I say life has a respiration of its own? I do not mean breathing here, but use the concept metaphorically. For example, at once we are inspired to do something, to participate in some hobby or activity. After awhile our interest in that thing expires and we leave off. Sometimes we come back to that same activity, other times we are simply inspired to do something else. The same can be said for relationships. One inspiration carries a friend into our sphere of life, creating energy and wind in the atmosphere. And life, always moving, causes that friend to travel on, perhaps as quickly as the wind brought him or her. The Spirit gathers us and sends us. But when either I or a friend are exhaled (ideally, the movement is mutual...correction: in the end, the parting is always mutual--it just takes some a bit longer to catch their breath), but when either I or a friend are exhaled, it does not necessarily mean that another breath does not await. We may hold our breath in fear of rejection or change or newness, but life compels us to eventually and invariably take the next breath, which brings with it new inspirations of its own. Oh, and how joyful a respiration when a friend enters our life again, and we realize the void that existed in the interim. When this transpires, we wonder what powers conspire to make it so.
“Conspire” means “to breathe together.” The word has baggage that we might as well unload, in my opinion. Immediately, we think of villains, or at least questionable types, meeting in an enclosed space, speaking closely, so that soon the only air one can inhale consists in the rank, stagnant exhalations of the co-conspirators. Usually what next transpires is equally foul. But this is not always the result when people breathe together. When we sing together, whether a song a church or Happy Birthday in restaurant or home, we end up breathing together. Cheering at Soldier Field or shouting support at a political rally, people are breathing together. Lovers’ sighs are a breathing together. Two friends sitting together either in grief or joy, anxiety or peace--they breathe together. Are not all of these conspiracies good? At least these conspirators, I think, aspire to goodness and righteousness. But notice! Even within each conspiracy there is a respiration! Yes, that happy spiration we call conversation. In dialogue, one’s mind (one’s whole being!) becomes a lung, which inhales the breathed utterances of the other. Once inspired by a conversation partner, that lung-mind extracts the elements it requires, and (energy renewed) exhales something new, perhaps something different. Some minds, I regret to say, are all too frighteningly like lungs--only taking in the same things, again and again. The closed mind is like that room where questionable personages gather closely to breathe in the same recycled air. The open mind seeks to breathe in different air, the air of different places and lands, conspiring with all kinds of different people--even conspiring with animals. Parenthetically, dogs are only good co-conspirators metaphorically speaking...literally not so much so...on account of dog-breath.
But let us not forget that a rich life is full of aspiration. “Aspiration” means “to breathe to.” In order to breathe to a thing, your face has to be pointed in that direction. And so the first part of aspiration is vision, or more specifically, the focus of the eye (which the face must follow, and thus the head, etc.). But it is not just the look, no, but also the movement. Ah, now we return to the wind, the brooding, the spirit--or the will. Our aspirations inspire us with passion, which in turn grants us motivation...animation. And here we find another respiration: reaching for a thing, failing, reaching again, failing--each time learning, each time coming closer. And the faster one moves toward a goal, the more and the harder one trains to accomplish that which they aspire to, the harder one breathes. Such is the effect of movement on the body: the faster I run, the quicker and harder and deeper I breathe. For this reason, a life full of aspiration is richer: more inhalations, more inspiration, more perspiration. More than we expect transpires when we but begin to follow even the smallest aspiration.
Well, I am afraid that the inspiration for this post has turned into an expiration. “Expiration” means “to breathe out.” I am almost done breathing out all of these words and ideas. However, that is not usually how we use the word, is it. “Expire” is different from “exhale” since in the latter we alway expect a subsequent inhale, but the former carries with it a dread finality. When a loved one expires, breathes out his or her last, the grief is overwhelming--invariably knocking the wind out of us. But, when someone dies, there begins all sorts of new respirations: memories flow in and out of one’s mind, conversations eulogize the deceased, and the world inhales (or is inspired by) new generations. Are not children a breath of fresh hope? But that is not all. The deceased him or herself continues on in an even greater respiration. Different systems of belief say different things transpire: some believe that the body merely decomposes, releasing gases and nutrients which other living things inhale; some believe that the spirit of the one who died is breathed into another body living on the earth; and some believe that death is merely an exhalation...that because of the Breath of God a new inhalation always follows that final exhalation.
In any case, life is full of respiration.
Breathe it in...
And out...
And in again...
You get the idea.
rha
No comments:
Post a Comment