Every week, while I wait for my son at jiu jitsu, I go to practice Chi Kung at my own pace, to the crossfit space where the dojo is located.
And during the more contemplative moments of my practice, it is possible to observe the athletes in that gym.
What I see is impressive — not only because of strength and endurance, but because of the effort. Bodies pushed to the limit. And in almost all, breathing functioning in emergency mode: mouth open, hyperventilation, nervous system on high alert.
There are excellent athletes there, without a doubt.
But what I observe on the other side — in everyday life, away from the gym — is not so different. The mind at maximum effort, running from task to task. And the breathing? The same: held, through the mouth, forgotten. Posture collapsed over the computer or the phone.
Different contexts. The same pattern.
The search for integration
There is a desire, which appears in various forms, to connect the body to the mind.
Even in yoga, meditation, certain movement practices — breathing is there, integrated into the path.
But what I observe is that this integration tends to stay on the mat, in class, in the retreat. When returning to everyday life, the automatic mode reinstalls itself.
Mouth open. Breath held. Posture forgotten. Mind running.
And the two poles remain separate.
The intermediate place
Breathing has a characteristic that no other body system has.
It happens in the body but responds to thoughts. It changes with emotions but can be consciously regulated. It is the only autonomous system of the body that can also be voluntarily directed.
It is this intermediate place that makes it the natural link between the body and the mind.
What I have observed — in my practice and in working with others — is that when breathing is worked on consistently, something changes. Not just in the body. Not just in the mind. In the connection between the two.
At the gym, the mind becomes more focused and the body responds with more performance. At the desk, resilience increases and mental clarity appears with less effort. Two different contexts. The same breathing making the connection.
This connection is dynamic. There is no moment when we acquire it and then no longer need attention.
It is not something you acquire — it is something you nurture.
I recall a recent moment before a lecture when I started to feel that nervous flutter. The mind anticipating what is missing, what might fail, time running out. The heart feeling more than usual. It is a place that sometimes visits me — and does not disappear with years of practice.
The difference I observe over time is not the absence of that tension. It is that in less than ten conscious breaths, the grounding happened. And from there I was able to be present.
We don’t become immune — we gain more resources to use when necessary.
Not as a special state reserved for the meditation cushion or great masters. But as a quality that begins to permeate the day.
And it is available in every breath we take.
Good practices
Lourenço de Azevedo