March 15, 2014

Breathwork 2014.

In another phase of my life, exploring human consciousness, spirituality, levels of reality, I spent several years practicing a method called Holotropic Breathwork. Developed by Stanislov Grof, MD, and based on decades of extensive, meticulous and encyclopedic research, it represents a model of the universe that I came to respect and confidently incorporate in my life.

Though I'm no longer engaged in active exploration of the same realms, I count that era of my life as being most influential in shaping the person I am today.

The method has four components, one of which focuses on an intentional form of breathing. I came to understand through experience, observation, study and mentoring the central importance of the breath in far more than the elemental role it has in the chemical reaction of human metabolism. Though millenia of language usage have drained it of its connection, the latin word for breath was spiritus, and references throughout human history have made that same connection. Breath and Spirit are deeply intermingled.

My family of course was well aware of my personal, professional and scientific interest in the work I was doing. Thus I was only mildly surprised last year when Morggan said in a note, "With your background of research in breathing, you might find this running technique of some interest."

Attached was a link to a Runner's World article, with an embedded video.

Morggan's track record for recommendations for my interest is impeccable. He seems to know his dad. So it was no eye-opener that I did indeed find the presentation and the concept intriguing.

The Runner in me also wanted to know more and to give it a try.

For years I've been conscious of my breathing pattern when I run, feeling most comfortable and meditative with a two-in, two-out, 2-2, breathing rhythm as I move through time and space as an athlete. I also discovered fairly early that whichever foot landed on my outbreath had more force behind it, often a discernible difference. And that whatever injuries I had sustained through the years had most often occurred on that same side of my body--knee, calf, hip, etc.

Thus for much of my running career I had been making a random, unsystematic practice of occasionally alternating from my habitual pattern of Right-Foot-Down-Breath-Out. I found that the moment my attention was diverted from that intentional effort, as soon as my mind drifted back to whatever zone it went to, my habitual right-footedness re-asserted itself.

I was eager to explore this idea. Here's how I did it.

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