Breath is the rhythm of the body, like the tides are the breath of the seas. Within this rhythm, everything can play. Muscles dance like dolphins. Thoughts whirl like seaweed. Observations and pinpricks of emotion wash about, drift to wherever the trade winds take them.
Breath, undone by excess, inhalation no better than exhalation when taken to one extreme of the other. Too little air or too much, it doesn't matter. Only the movement between the two, creating a structure within which everything can play.
I need to think about something: the better the breathing, the clearer the thought. I need to move and connect: the better the breathing, the smoother the motion.
Without structure, everything is fortuitous, coincidence, luck, optimism, whimsical.
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