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Ventilation is only mechanical.

I tried--I really tried--my best to keep an open mind about the whole ordeal. I mean, every piece of literature he sent to us about it desperately begged us to be very patient and understanding and, well, open-minded. But I will very eagerly admit that it was difficult. "Welcome to, ah, Sun-Do meditation exercise!" He would say, very cheerfully. And so it went every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for three weeks. People asked where I was going and I explained that I was going to waste an hour and a half doing nothing.

Sun-Do is, apparently, some sort of Korean meditative breathing exercise. It involves stretching, yoga, some light cardiovascular activity, and--obviously--breathing. Focused, rhythmic breathing set to a chant that I do not know.

When we finished filling out our comments forms on the last day, he called us in to impart some final words of wisdom. "I just have two things to say," he said. "One: it is, ah, recommended that you practice Sun-Do three times a week." He paused and nodded at us knowingly before continuing. "Two: it is important that you realize that you are breathing. Every time you take a breath, you should remember that life is precious. That you are breathing is a miracle. Babies breathe with their lower abdomen, and babies have no stress or anxiety like we do. So we breathe with our lower abdomen to not worry so much. We breathe like babies. Just remember that life is precious every time you breathe."

I went home and gloated like a smug asshole. I mean, what the hell was he even talking about, right? With his fractured English and goofy meditation exercises--how was I supposed to take any of that seriously? So I put it out of my mind, reassuring myself that the only thing I was going to walk away with from this thing was the $30.

Ashley and I walked through campus today on our way to study, we talked for a bit. It was Explore UT, so there were a lot of middle school students milling about in their brightly colored t-shirts with paper hats and other such ridiculous things. A lifetime ago, we were kids. And we looked up to the high school students and the college students who were so cool, so old, and so mature. We wanted to be in their places so badly because they could do anything they wanted. Those were the people that grew up to be presidents and astronauts and award winning scientists and famous musicians. They could do anything and all we could do was wait until we were old enough.

And now, suddenly, we are old.

Growing up really isn't a great as we thought it would be then. We should've listened to our parents who told us we would wish we were kids when we grew up because it sucked so much. I, for one, didn't believe them. I remember being a little kid and knowing that I was going to be a famous paleontologist. Knowing I was going to be a famous clarinetist. Knowing that, whatever I imagined, I would be something. I knew that things would be much better when I was older. For all of the things I've learned in school and class and time I really don't know anything anymore. It's more of a hope. I hope I'll be a doctor. I hope I'll do anything with music in my life. I hope that something--anything--significant happens in my life.

Kids are so simple. So happy. They don't have to worry about the logistics of becoming a president or astronaut. They don't even know that there are hurdles and obstacles in place--it doesn't matter. They just don't see problems everywhere that we so desperately look for.

And now we are the hip college students that the middle school kids are looking up to. They are hoping that one day, by the grace of God, they will be as old and cool and mature as we are. They are hoping that they'll doing be what we're doing--becoming presidents and astronauts and scientists and musicians. Realizing our dreams without compromise or fear of failure. Hoping desperately for some kind of miracle to come down on us and make everything amazing.

And then, as we trudged up the steps through the throngs of lost people shuffling through campus, I processed what he had said. We are so caught up in wishing for a miraculous event to touch our lives that we forget the most important one--breathing. I closed my eyes and started to breathe. And with every breath, I remembered that life is precious.

I think, perhaps, that maybe he had the right idea.

Comments

Carolynn said…
If they are looking up to us so much, we can't let them down.

Also I really liked this post.

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