Breathe

by Julia Mashford

There was nothing particularly special about the living room. It was a rather small space, but it was thoughtfully decorated. Clean white walls enclosed the space, with dark wooden floorboards, colourful cushions on the furniture, and a tasteful amount of floral-inspired artworks lining the walls. A yoga mat swept across the floor in the centre of the room, just in front of the blue sofa. A tall lamp could be found to the left of this, if you were Alice walking in.

 

Alice walked in.

 

She tied her hair into a messy bun, rebellious strands of hair escaping the elastic. The weight of the hair on her neck was liberated, as was some of the weight of a stressful day. A click aligned with sudden darkness as Alice turned off the room’s light, the glow of the lamp taking its place.

 

She sat down, closed her eyes, and entered her mind.

 

She was only breathing, really. The flow of air hesitated around Alice’s face, drifting into her nose as it prepared for its journey. Down, down, down it moved, both peacefully and determinedly. The rush of the current increased, oxygen moving swiftly towards the lungs. In one last staccato flux, oxygen met its destination and elegantly delivered the gift of life.

 

After the air had been released from Alice’s nose in a breath out, the process repeated. She breathed in and out.

And again.

And again.

And again.

 

With each breath, a tension was released. A worry or observation or question was silenced. They were still there, in the back of her mind, in the horizon of her consciousness; but her focus was on only her breath. The noise of her mind was still visible but blurred, while her awareness of the act of breathing was in sharp focus. It was quiet and dark.

For a while, this was enough. It was all Alice expected. After all, it was all Alice had ever experienced while sitting in this living room, on this yoga mat, with these walls and paintings surrounding her, with her hair in a messy bun, and with this lamp illuminating the space.

 

In and out, she breathed.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

 

Something happened.

 

A waver in the mind.

A whisper in the silence.

A glow in the dark.

A click aligned with incredible light as her mind was suddenly illuminated.

 

Then noise came.

 

It started slowly, tentatively, unsure. Then the noise became louder and louder, building in confidence and ascending in volume.

 

Still, she breathed.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

 

The noise came in a constant rhythm, like a buzz. Surging. It was blurry and unclear, but after it had reached the volume of the loudest noise Alice could ever imagine, it revealed itself to her. The noise came in the sound of the ocean, and the sound of the earth, and the sound of the stars. It came in the sounds of the voices of those she loved, in the sound of her feet walking on the grass, in the sound of the ocean beating against the shore, in the sound of every word she had ever uttered, in the sound of the birds that woke her in the morning, in the sound of the rain that bled down on her window, in the sound of her pen on paper, in the sound of her cry, in the sound of her laugh, and in the sound of her life.

 

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

 

Then came colour.

 

Colour came confidently and boldly, for it was inspired by the noise and light already inside Alice’s mind. Red. Green. The yellow of sunsets. The green of Alice’s eyes. The navy of midnight skies. All of them, mixed together. Dancing and swirling. Drifting like the air still travelling towards her lungs.

And in a flash, clarity came. A sort of epiphany that was violent enough to make its point, yet soft enough to comfort her, and true enough that it needed no further explanation.

It was a realisation that had been sitting somewhere in her mind for uncountable time. Sneaking into her dreams. Appearing in her thoughts. Forming itself into the poetry that was etched into the back of her throat.

 

And still, she breathed.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

 

Like waves crashing onto a shore, like a heart beating, like feet striding across the earth, her breath was constant and grounding. It was the most natural thing of all, and yet it was the only lens through which to see deep inside of herself and far into the stars.

 

With a last release of air out through her nose, she opened her eyes.

 

It was bright.

 

And she could see.