blank blank fullness

Sometimes I'm working from habit, memory, routine, familiarity; and it begins to weigh heavy
We become bored, uncertain, uninspired, seeking. Restless.

What do you want to be when you grow up?
From inception, subtle instructions pointing us to
You are what you do

My insides need to express who I am
Within what I do
Being expressed in doing
Not doing to become, though further becoming is a natural outgrowth
And so it should be
For you too
In so doing, arriving at
The impression of oneness (I say impression because it already exists, we just can't see it, fully feel it; until it impresses itself upon us)
With all that we engage
Which form takes on which shape?
Subtle seamless
Give and take

Even so, disconnection comes through the wire
A certain lack of fuel for fire
Or abundance of fire, tearing through fuel
We get comfortable and forget to reach
Yet times request a steadied rest
Reconnecting to the spontaneity of being what you know without knowing that you know it, what comes naturally, expressing experience plus...

There's this lesson in breath I recently learned
Of course, once both sides were presented and grasped a deeper metaphor was unleashed to wrap around me fast
And it wasn't so much the mechanics, though they will surely get you there
But the meaning that accompanied it to remain well past the moment

I saw the symptom through this comedian I flipped to catch last night. Late Late show. Right before Last Call when you know who ever is up and watching just doesn't give a f*ck- (sidenote, that's what TV does. I haven't owned/watched TV in, oh, 7 years, and have recently been around one again, tuning in. It just sucks the give-a-f*ck right out of you. Makes my feel like a little tween eating canned corn and Elio's pizza after school, alone, bored, watching 90210. WOW anywayyyy ::shudder). He was ranting about how good things were going in his life. While a voice in the back of his mind screamed at him, "Oh wow, things are going really well, look at that. You're gonna screw it up, oh man you're gonna mess this up things are going so well when is it gonna get messed up?" and on and on. The crowd laughed in agreement, sure, we can sympathize. The seesaw. What's with the seesaw? Wasn't it enough on the playground?

Coming back to the larger point, found in this breathing -- what's a less rigid word for exercise? That.
Inhale deeply through the nose. Feel your heart and lungs expand, receive fullness. On the exhale, maintain this fullness, this space. At the bottom of the exhale, come into the natural contraction of your lower abdomen. Along with this contraction comes a deeper connection with your seat, a rooting effect that draws down as you draw in through the exhale. Maintain the contraction, this connection with the earth as you receive the breath, expanding up and out. Instead of seesawing, my instructor went on to impart, exaggerating heavy, hardly graceful, aerobic breathing- in, out, in, out, up, down, up, down, his whole torso shook; integrate.
There's a tightness I came into during this process.

Instead of swinging side to side, weave in the center. Like this visual concept I've been carrying, partly too afraid and unsure of how to execute, partly gathering pieces to complete the blank edges; like a braid through time, all the strings are already crossed waaaay down the line, they're waiting, far apart as seemingly unrelated. And as we come to them on our roads, they definitively overlap, get tighter, just needing, awaiting us to pull our way forward.