Breathing: Power Overlooked

Sometimes I forget to breathe. I often catch myself holding my breath as if I were in some grade-school contest to see who doesn’t pass out first. Or who does pass out first. I can’t quite remember the rules.
Breathe, Cooprider.

Well past 100 on the 405 loop, all I’m thinking is that the steel separators are a little sketchy and this particular curve will undoubtedly one day result in either a hefty ticket or permanent toe tag but I hold my line and it all smooths together nicely. All the while not drawing a single breath.
Breathe, Cooprider.

Finding myself in a crowded room thrust solo into the throes of networking groups of go-getters all intertwined yet divided like chatty, smiling galaxies tightly holding drinks and trying to hold attention. My anxiety hits a peak and I stand, surveying the landscape as to find the shortest distance between my shoes and the nearest cocktail, or better yet a familiar face to pretend to be excited about. All the while not exhaling once.
Breathe, Cooprider.

This human has upset me. Whether it’s a ridiculous argument with a colleague or some emotional meltdown brought on by a woman who knows my buttons, or maybe an extraordinarily rude individual who was itching to be publicly reprimanded, these moments sometimes literally steal my breath. Through rage and impulsive frustration my body just ceases to take in oxygen.
Breathe, Cooprider.

A kiss. A hold of a hand, a moment in a crowd with the right single woman, a glance across a room or a hard gaze 6 inches away, there are times when my brain and body relinquish to the moment and sometimes I just forget to breathe.
Breathe, Reid.

Do exercises, do whatever it takes to remind yourself to BREATHE.

You’ll live longer. You’ll definitely think clearer, feel more powerful and be way more smarterer than the person who never thinks about it.

Breathe…or die.

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