Every yoga class I lead begins with three deep breaths as I invite my students to tune out the outside world and settle into the present moment.

As they sit and breathe slowly and deeply – in through the nose and out through the mouth – I feel their energy begin to soften. I feel them begin to detach from whatever challenges they are experiencing in their daily life and move into the role of peaceful observer.

As we add gentle physical movement to the breath, I watch the space between the bottoms of their ears and the tops of their shoulders lengthen and the furrow in their brows melt away.

I know the power of the breath. Deep in my being I know it.

And yet I still forget.

I forget when I’m cooking dinner and the phone is ringing and the cat is climbing on the table and my daughter is screeching at the top of her lungs because her brother took her favorite cup and the dog is pacing under my feet waiting to eat and when I finally find the phone, I discover it’s my husband, who is sorry but running a little late.

In moments like these I often forget that I have the power to choose how I want to feel.

But the beautiful thing about forgetting something important is that you get to relearn it, which is exactly what happened this weekend when I was attending the annual plant sale at our friend’s farm (something I look forward to greatly) with my children and my sister.

The kids were weaving their way through the crowds…running from the chicken pen to the goldfish pond…laughing and playing.

I smiled and thought out loud to my sister how wonderful it is to be able to browse the plants and not worry about the kids. Such a big shift has occurred in the last year and their new level of independence is liberating and exciting for me.

And then somewhere between cherry tomatoes and cilantro things started to fall apart. 

The sun was hot. The kids were hungry. They were no longer playing and having fun. I was no longer browsing in peace. They were now hanging on me and whining and arguing with each other.

I pleaded for just a few more minutes wanting desperately to find just the right plants for our yard. But they continued to whine – and beg me to buy all sorts of random plants that I did not come there to buy.

I felt deep feelings of frustration and resentment surfacing. My jaw was clenched. My stomach was tight. I started to feel tears of frustration welling in my eyes.

And just as I was about to throw up my arms in frustration, I looked up and saw an empty chair in the shade. I put down all my plants and walked over. As I sat there I reminded myself to take three deep breaths.

And as I did everything began to shift.

The kids followed me up to the chair. I told them that I needed some quiet time and that they could play nearby or go find Auntie Jill.

As I softened internally, the world around me began to soften as well.

Within a few minutes the kids and I were comfortably chatting and making a plan to buy them each some plants of their choice. Not the plants I intended to buy, but the plants that were clearly meant to come home with us.

As they selected their plants – a Firecracker Vine to attract hummingbirds, lavender because it smells so wonderful, and purple basil and pretty flowering plants because they are so beautiful, Mama — waves of deep peace and gratitude washed over me.

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Three deep breaths, my friends. Powerful stuff.

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