Page 15 of What I'm Looking For

“I know, big word for an actor.” His voice holds a smile but I don’t think he’s laughing at me. “Deep breaths.”

When I do as he suggests, he makes a disapproving sound. “Hm.”

“What? I’m breathing.” I suck in and blow out a couple more breaths. “I’m getting dizzier.” And more irritated.

“Well, to really convince your body to calm down, you have to breathe using your diaphragm.” Sitting on the ground next to me, he places a hand on his stomach. “Into your belly.”

“You’re telling me I breathe wrong?”

“You don’t breathenaturally. Most people don’t,” he adds.

“How is it possible to breathe wrong? My body just breathes.”

“Believe me, it’s possible. It’s… complicated. Breathing incorrectly is a habit you develop over time, usually starting in adolescence.”

He reaches for my belly. “Here, I’ll show you.” He pauses before actually touching me. “Can I touch you?”

Yes please, anywhere you’d like,I almost blurt out. But we’re in the middle of Harvard Square.

“On your stomach,” he clarifies.

Squashing naughty thoughts, I move my own hands out of the way. “Sure. I would love to know how I’m breathing wrong. I’m a runner, you know. I can run miles without getting winded.”

“I’m sure you can.”

He seems to realize that we’re in the way of foot traffic that has built up since the juggler cleared out, because he helps me move over to a low brick wall and sits next to me. When he rests a warm hand on my belly, the muscles flinch. “You okay?”

“Yep. Just… ticklish.”

“Good. Close your eyes.”

I narrow them instead.

“Trust me?”

“This is very strange.”

“Yeah. I get it. Just focus on my hand.” The mellow sound of his voice lulls my eyes closed. “Bring your mind here.” It’s like the warmth of his hand is melting through my clothes, my skin. “Let the muscles relax.”

My eyes fly open. “I am not letting my tummy pooch into your hand.”

His smile is sympathetic. “It’s part of the process.” When he removes his palm to unfold the arms I didn’t realize I’d crossed, I miss its heat. “I won’t judge.”

When the hand returns, my eyes flutter closed again.

“Good,” he says soothingly. “Just let all your muscles go. Picture your spine as a tree trunk. Its roots deep in the earth can hold you up. Picture open space in your torso. Lots of space where the air can go. Try to let go of literal anatomy. Just picture your body full of space.”

It’s hard, but I can kind of see it.

“Relax all the muscles of your face.”

As he continues to guide my thoughts, his low voice in my ear and the warmth of his whole body next to me are so soothing that a big sigh releases past my lips all by itself.

“Good! Did you feel that?”

“Oh! I did.” My belly had pooched right into his hand, but the breath that flowed in and out of me was so cleansing that I don’t even care.

“Now you have to practice it so you get it into your muscle memory. Close your eyes and try it again.”

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