This invisible sea all around us, that which we call “air,”
must be the holiest thing on Earth. We
can live three weeks without any food, three days without any water, but only
three minutes without any air. We walk
in it, sleep in it, laugh and cry in it, and love in it. In everything we do, we are constantly
exchanging the air around us. It is
never not a part of our lives. It is the
very foundation of our existence. And
yet, we don’t think of it at all.
Is it because we can’t see it? Is it something as trivial as that? “I can’t see it. Therefore, it does not exist.” What a narrow way of looking at the
world. But all around us, the evidence
exists. Take, for example, the
dandelions in this patch of grass. They
are not random. Each one is placed
precisely where it ought to be, blown in a pattern by a wind we cannot and will
not ever see. What you see here is
evidence of a kiss from a gust of wind late last fall, and only now can you see
the fruit of His hand.
“I am hungry. I
need to eat.”
“I am thirsty. I
need to drink.”
“I am lifeless. I need
to breathe. Ah, that is much better. But more.
And more still.”
It’s a constant thing.
We don’t inhale and then stop . . . and then exhale and then stop. There is no interim time in between an inhale
and an exhale. It is just a continual
motion. So I have always wondered, when I
breathe in, am I breathing in this thing called “God”? And when I breathe out, is He breathing me
in? Simultaneously? I breathe/He exhales. I exhale/He breathes. Back and forth, ceaselessly.
I cannot remember a time when I was not alive. I am told such time existed, but I cannot be
certain that is true. It is just
something someone told me, and I’m not sure if I believe it. Because I cannot remember a time when I did
not exist. Can you? Not what you’re told about time and life and
the world—but reaching as far back in your mind as possible? Can you find a time when you weren’t there?
