Saturday, January 30, 2010

MINDFUL LISTENING

Very often the flow of our thoughts distracts us from giving someone our full attention. We take the present moment for granted. Our minds are awash with words and images and emotions that recreate the past and forecast the future. We listen to a friend, a family member, or a stranger from within this cloud of delusion. We nod our heads in agreement, missing words, gestures, and inflections of voice that might pull us deeper into the story, into the mystery and marvel of someone else’s life. On the other hand, if we are listening closely to this person, we usually have formed a judgement and are more concerned with the advice we want to give; so we cut him or her off and give our opinion, wanted or not. Or we simply relate the discussion to our own lives and refocus attention to our story—far more important and interesting than the world around us.

But is our story so important? Is what we have to say or think so important that the world stops for us and listens as if we were the ground of all being? We certainly would like to think so. But we must remember that there are six billion or so other minds like ourselves thinking in very much the same manner—regardless of intelligence or culture or socio-economic standing. Our inherent worth binds us more than our sense of separateness: intelligence, race, culture, politics, economics, philosophy, religion, and gender pale in comparison to body, thought, feeling, perception, and consciousness. In these, we are all the same.

We want to be heard, we want to know that what we think, what we say, what we are matters to someone. It is a Catch-22. In seeking recognition of our value, we expose our most significant vulnerability: without acknowledgement from others, we won’t feel as important as we think we are. By vocalizing our opinions, extolling our virtues, regardless of whether or not others want to hear it, we justify our self-importance. Our words resonate like music through our brains and our bodies, lulling us into the belief that we matter more than others. We can fool ourselves into believing that we have the best interest of others in mind, but self-preservation is instinctual. It dictates our actions. It is our story, after all, and our story is the circle that encompasses everything we are. The story of our lives has a surprising effect on how we listen to the needs of others, as well as the needs of ourselves.

If you are too busy listening to your own inner chatter, how can you be open to the chatter of others? We all know people like this: endless talk about the mundane events of their lives, circling in upon themselves until nothing else exists but them. The sheer weight of the information exhausts us. But if we follow the breath and through the breath calm the body, thought, feeling, perception, and consciousness, we begin to discern the slight intonations of mood and know that something else is going on at a deeper level. We begin to discover their insecurities and doubts, their level of self-esteem and confidence, the level of personal actualization they operate from, whether it be from a reactive or proactive point of view, a tribal or pluralistic or transpersonal state of mind. In essence, we learn the value of the life before us, and regardless of the state of mind, or its level of development, we understand that we are similar.

The story of our lives is more fiction than fact, amplified by how we use our only true resources, which are the five aggregates, mentioned above. However, we are not born to perfection. Although wisdom exists within all of us it must be cultivated with great care, with the care one uses in cultivating a garden—without fertilizer, water, and pruning, the garden runs wild. In many ways, humanity is the garden run wild, with occasional forays into mindfulness. The garden run wild has created a majestic edifice of passion, knowledge, and artistic insight that has both enlivened and desecrated our planet on every level imaginable, century after century. Body, thought, feeling, perception, and consciousness have been wound up so tight that the individual, who is a part and parcel of these aggregates comes to believe in the unchanging self, the self that rises up and consumes the world, for the world exists only because of the self. In fact, the self is but a mere reflection of the ever changing presence of the five aggregates, product of this marvelous planet, and one among billions of forms in which creation expresses itself.

How do we look beyond our sense of self-importance, and self-absorption, to the needs of others and, ultimately, to our true needs and the needs of the life cycle that gave birth to us and empowered us to the point that we have such a profound influence upon it?

What is the one thing that can help us see where we have gone astray and where we have traveled to the heart of what matters?

It is in the witness.

The witness is a metaphor for the ability to detach ourselves from the five aggregates and the illusion of selfhood. The Tibetan Buddhists call it the spy consciousness. Something that can observe the nuances of our bodily functions, our mental constructions, our emotional aberrations, our point of view, and our sense of separateness, all the while experiencing and reveling in them and yet, at the same time, understanding their function.

The witness stands outside of us and within us. The witness is us and not us. It previews our truths and our lies. It doesn’t judge. It is a testament of what is, nothing more. The line between the subject and the object becomes blurred. In the Zen Buddhist tradition, it is called bare attention. Bare attention is the ability to observe something with such single-mindedness that our sense of self drops away and we become one with that which we observe. Imagine watching a movie or reading a book. Do you experience the self at those moments, or has the witness overshadowed the self? Ironically, this happens to each one of us in many different moments; it so totally engrosses us that we are not even aware it is happening.

Meditation is instrumental in cultivating bare attention. In fact, it probably accelerates this process more than anything else. But does one need to meditate to strengthen this process? Although meditation is probably the best vehicle, it is not for everyone, and mindfulness practice has far broader applications, through contemplation, visualization, prayer, and self-reflection, among other things. Our practice is our life, so long as we do it intentionally. It can be everything we do. As a great Zen master once said, do without doing. The more we practice this, from whatever approach we might choose, the more we deepen our experience of this life.

How do we embrace this particular approach to living? The world is very often an insane place. We can sit on a cushion in deep meditation or we can sit in a chair in high brow contemplation, but ultimately we must come back to the world, as magnificent and maddening as it can be, and embrace it, embrace all of it.

A step in that direction, or a direct step into the shit and sunshine of the world humans inhabit, can be through the art of listening. As already stated, if we listen without judging, through bare attention, we can come to a deeper understanding of others and ourselves. Through the art of listening, we learn to listen to ourselves and begin to discern our true face and what it is we need to be happy. Through listening, we learn that “the vibrations of air that come from our mouths” hold the magic of imagery and can affect our world with an unimagined power. Through listening on the deepest level, from the witness posture, we learn to become mindful with our words.

Once we have become a witness to others, as well as ourselves, we come to see that the five aggregates are continually changing, that life around us moves in a ceaseless, harmonic flux. We know that nothing lasts, and for this reason all of our stories are equally important because of the tenuous hold we have on existence. With this understanding, we come to an acceptance of how things are. We bow to those whom we share this life. We learn to suffer with them and understand their suffering, regardless of intelligence, race, culture, politics, economics, philosophy, religion, and gender.

In this, we rest in ease and well-being.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Presence v Presents

There is no greater measure of an individual than one who gives selflessly to others. Christmas is a wonderful symbol of this selfless giving, a celebration of the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, an enlightened being who practiced and taught service to others. Eventually he would give up his life so that others might see and understand that sometimes we must relinquish the self so that we may help others on the path.

Jesus said, “He who has a mind to understand, let him understand.” (1)

It is through understanding the needs of others that we come to understand our essential nature, which is communion. Human beings were not made to live in isolation from one another. If we isolate our hearts from others, then we come only to think of the self as an island that must be protected at all costs. And even if each one of us is an island, it is through our words and deeds of merit that we create bridges between these islands of the heart so that we may see our similarities and understand that we are all one.

In the Western world, Christmas continues to symbolize the act of giving, (which is communion,) though it has been substantially minimized to an act of giving material objects. In my mind, this is perhaps one of the greatest ironies in the history of humanity: how the teaching of “selfless giving” has been diluted, through the filter of consumerism, into an act of “selfish getting.”

There was a commercial running on television last Christmas which perfectly captures this idea. It is Christmas day, or perhaps even Christmas Eve. Everyone in the family is so happy right now, for they are standing around the Christmas tree waiting to open their presents. Mom and Sissy and little Brother are each holding a brightly wrapped gift in their hands. They are smiling gleefully, barely able to contain their excitement. “Can we open one now?” they cry out happily. “Not until we visit your grandmother,” replies Dad. And off they go to grandma’s house. In the next scene, they pull up in front of grandma’s and stop to look at her standing on the front porch, waving at them from across the snowy yard. “Well, we’ve seen grandma,” chirps Dad, and then they drive off, excited about getting home and opening their presents. Now understandably this is a commercial ploy to get us excited about how wonderful those gifts are from that particular retailer. And they do have great stuff, no question about it. But there is a dark undercurrent here, and if we are willing to look closely, we will see it. What this commercial seems to be telling us is that our personal desires should be more important than the needs of others. Did you notice that Grandma was standing alone on the porch? Where is Grandpa? In the beginning of the commercial there is only mention of Grandma. From this we can easily deduce that she lives alone. Maybe she and her husband are divorced and the family must split their holiday time between both of them. Maybe Grandpa died some years ago and now Grandma lives alone in this big house. Can you imagine her pain and loneliness? Can you imagine how happy it makes her to know that her family is coming to visit her on Christmas, one of the bleakest of all times for those who live alone? What a great gift she is being given this Christmas, which is her family’s presence in her life. How wonderful! How joyfully Christian! But then, but then they drive off. “Is this some kind of joke?” she asks herself. But as she stands there watching them disappearing down the street, she realizes that they are not coming back. How dreadfully awful! To do something this terrible! And selfish! To a loved one on Christmas!

Now, I’m not trying to say that this commercial is representative of all of us, for there are many who give selflessly, even flawlessly of themselves, who hold their family and friends, even the rest of humanity, in the warmth of their bosoms. Nonetheless, it does exist, wherever we look these days; an indictment of the culture in which we live. One thing many of us have forgotten (and believe me, I don’t blame anyone for it,) is that we lose our hearts when we lose ourselves to desire. Desire is not a bad thing, either. As a matter of fact, it is a most wonderful thing! It is through our desires that we seek to discover truth, beauty and goodness. Imagine what the world would be like if Jesus or Buddha or Lao Tzu decided that they had no desire to show humanity the truth of itself. Imagine what the world would be like if Monet had not the desire to capture on canvas the endless variations of light he saw in the things of the world. My God, imagine what the world would be like if Shakespeare decided that desire was too boring a subject to write about! Imagine! Imagine! Imagine! I’m sure you get the point. But desire is desire and very often turns into obsession; and when it does, it leads into the labyrinth of our minds, and we become lost in the endless drama of what we want and don’t want. As you probably know, there was another great teacher of truth and compassion that taught us to keep our eyes open to suffering, not to run from it. What was it he said? That our suffering comes from wanting the things we don’t have and not wanting the things we do have? Well, that sounds about right, doesn’t it?

Personally, I know this for a fact, having caused myself, my friends and loved ones pain more times than I would like to admit, because I was not present for them, let alone myself. This was because I fell too much in love with the fictions that I was spinning around inside my head: endless visions of my self, the questing hero of my dreams, destroying that which he found too painful and hording that which gave him so much pleasure. Of course, there were also times that I gave my loved ones my full attention, being completely there for them and me. And the wonder is that those were the loveliest, the most beautiful, and the most precious moments of my life. Examples abound: sitting on a hill side in Bill’s back yard in autumn, watching the dance of fire flies in the grass, the air and trees; helping Patrick build the bonfire for Guy Faux Day on a cool winter day; practicing Tai Chi with John and Ashley in the park, our bodies moving with grace through the warm spring air; meditating with my daughter in her back yard on a humid summer evening; running my hand down a woman’s back, loving the contour of her manifest soul; all the great conversations I have had with so many people over the years; watching my son tattoo a dragon on some guy’s back; watching the birth of my children; being with my Dad when he died. You see, these are the moments when we effortlessly forget our desires and quite simply become who we really are—beings in communion with the present moment. Yes. These are the moments in which we willingly relinquish the self, that island we spend so much time defending from the imagined onslaught of others.

Jesus said, “…and my desire has been ended, and ignorance has died.” (2)

I bet you’ve never heard Jesus talk like a Zen Master, have you? Well, there you have it. And when Jesus spoke of desire, he was not speaking of the wonderful things that desire can bring, but of the terrible things that desire so often leaves in the wake of our lives. And when he spoke of ignorance, it wasn’t about being stupid. Duh! Read his words again: and my desire has been ended, and ignorance has died. He is telling us that ignorance is about living in darkness, because we have been blinded by our desires and endless dreams. If we are willing to risk the pain of being present our lives will become filled with an aura of authenticity no words can ever explain. Desire will drop away and we shall become awakened from the darkness of ignorance. But I’m sure you know this. Just think of all those moments in your life when you released your ego and became the moment. Can you remember a few of those moments, right now? I’m sure you can. And wouldn’t it be wonderful to have those moments all of the time?

“His disciples said to him, ‘Show us the place where you are, since it necessary for us to seek it.’
“He said to them, ‘Whoever has ears, let him hear. There is light within a man of light, and he lights up the whole world. If he does not shine, he is in darkness.’” (3)

You may be saying to yourself right now, “Well, that’s pretty cryptic!” And I would reply, “Stop thinking!” Does this comment surprise you? Well, don’t let it. Very often our thoughts get in the way of our vision, of how things really are. You see, what Jesus is saying, as I interpret it, is that when we are present with the world we shine like the world, and when we lose ourselves in the objects of our desires, those brightly colored pretty presents that we confuse for the world, we lose ourselves and thus we lose the world. After all, what other place do we have but this world to live in, this magnificent, wonderful world which causes us to experience so much joy and sorrow?

But how do we find this world, how do we appreciate its often mundane nature, how do we go about living in it authentically and with presence?

There are many paths to this end. We have discussed many of them over the years, haven’t we? And they all work, if we would just let them. But before we chose a path to tread, I truly believe that we must begin “by recognizing what is in our sight.”

Jesus said, “Know what is in front of your face and what has been hidden from you will be revealed to you. For there is nothing hidden that will not be made clear and nothing buried that will not be raised.” (4)

From the Gnostic Gospels:
(1) The Gospel of Mary Magdalene, Chapter Four, number 29
(2) The Gospel of Mary Magdalene, Chapter Eight, number 22
(3) The Gospel of Thomas, saying 24
(4) The Gospel of Thomas, saying5

Saturday, December 5, 2009

HONORING THE BODY

Ken Wilber has written that we are so out of touch with our bodies that meditation teachers often begin with mindfulness of the body as a way to help the new practitioner reconnect with her/his self. It is, after all, our physical form that allows us to experience the world in which we live. Through our five sense organs—ears, eyes, tongue, nose, and skin—we are able to navigate our way through the physical universe and enjoy the ever-shifting display of energy expressing itself in multitudinous forms. It has been said that it is the body that carries us (our sense of self) so gracefully through our lives—the holy chalice without which we could not exist. It is interesting to consider that we take our bodies for granted, suffering the illusion that the “I” is ever-changeless, that we confuse immortality of the soul or the sense of the permanence of the self with our bodies, a physical structure prone to sickness, old age, and death. Some of us use our bodies as repositories of the foulest substances because it is through these substances that the brain, part of the body, is lulled into a somnambulant opiate-like experience of happiness and release. And there are those who neglect their bodies through lack of exercise, improper diet, or ignore the body when it signals that it may need the care of a physician. Finally, there are those who treat their bodies with the utmost respect, honoring it for the wondrous vehicle that it is.

Let us briefly examine these three modes of existence and see where they may lead.

Although alcohol and drugs create a sense of release and happiness, a higher sense of consciousness, ultimately we are lead astray by the dreams they create—a sense of emotional well being that is more ephemeral than a wisp of smoke. Such products ultimately destroy the body, the vehicle necessary for emotional and spiritual transformation.

Similarly, when we do not take care of our bodies through lack of use, ill use or over consumption, we weaken the vehicle, draining it of the energy needed for the hard work of evolving into a higher self.
In either case, mindfulness is extremely difficult because of the fog of inebriation or the lack of energy inherent in a weakened body.

It is through mindfulness of the body, the sensory system manifested for viewing the wondrous display of the universe, that we discover truth, beauty and goodness.
By honoring the body, through moderation or renunciation, through impeccable diet and exercise, we increase the energy for the work that needs to be done, as well as refining the body system so that we can better experience the gift of the physical universe that flows around us and through us, ultimately offering us the window to the sublime.

Additionally, reconnecting with our bodies is very important in that it can be our best teacher when contemplating impermanence, the irrefutable truth that nothing ever stays the same. Can you remember the body ten years ago? Is it the same body? Is your sense of suffering or pleasure the same then as now? Is your relationship to your body the same then as it is now? Do you understand your body; do you know its needs? Through our realization of impermanence, we come to a greater appreciation of the wonder of life and all of its dynamic systems, including the human body—your body.

Love it for what it is.

Without the body, you are as ephemeral as a wisp of smoke.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Unity of Breath-a guided meditation

Breath is the essential ingredient binding all living things.

-Start with awareness of the breath.

-Breathe in. Breathe out. Become acquainted with the quality of the breath; breathing a short, breathing a long breath. Relax into the breath.

-Enlarge your field of awareness to include others sitting in this in room with you. Acknowledge that they too are following the breath, becoming the breath. Imagine that your breath moves in sync with their breaths, all of you becoming one with breath.

-Where is the self in all of this?

-Breath with breath. Becoming one with breath, until there is only breath.

-Imagine that in this very moment all of whom you know and love are breathing just as you breathe, sometimes a short breath, sometimes a long breath. Really make an effort to bring the essence of your loved ones to mind, knowing that they breathe as you breathe in this very moment.

-Imagine all of the people in this town, breathing as you breathe, sometimes a short breath, sometimes a long breath, the breath connecting all of us.

-Imagine all of the people in this country, breathing as you breathe, sometimes a short breath, sometimes a long breath, the breath connecting all of us—306 million people breathing together.

-Imagine all of the people on earth, breathing as you breathe, sometimes a short breath, sometimes a long breath, the breath connecting all of us—6,783, 557 people breathing together.

-Imagine that along with all of the people on this planet, there are countless creatures of earth, air and water, breathing together in this very moment, just as you breathe, breathing a short breath, breathing a long breath...fast...slow...hot...cold. It is the breath that connects all sentient beings,breathing in, breathing out.

-Where is the self in all of this?

-Imagine this planet, mother of life, the greatest teacher. Imagine that you are made of the same stuff—earth, air, fire and water. Imagine that as you breathe in, you are breathing in the earth and as you breathe out, the earth is breathing you out. The earth is breathing.

-Where is the self in all of this?

-Imagine all of the stars and planets and galaxies of this grand universe. The universe is expanding to a point when it will contract, bringing everything back to the beginning. Imagine that as the universe is expanding, it is breathing out and when it contracts, it is breathing in. The universe is breathing, just as you breathe in this very moment.

-Where is the self in all of this?

-Breathe in...breathe out...sometimes a short breath, sometimes a long breath...the breath of trillions rising and falling as one breath.

-Now bring awareness back to the breath of the body, the body that is self and no-self.

-The breath body.

The Dream of the Self

In my last post I touched on the Five Aggregates. Body. Feeling. Thought. Perception. Consciousness. We have learned that we are a combination of sensations that rest upon the foundation of body, that incredible vessel which carries us so gracefully through our lives. Without body the other five aggregates would be impossible, wouldn’t they? We have learned that these five aggregates give us a sense of self—that which identifies the self.

Having said this, the ego/mind recoils at such objectivity!

And the ego/mind questions: there must be more to the self than this?!

There is. But it still relates to body/brain, ego/mind. When one has an experience, the brain immediately backloops to memory, which is a good thing. A child burns her hand on the stove. Throughout her life, whenever she experiences intense heat, her brain backloops to the moment of the first burn. She pulls away from the heat. It is the same with every moment of our lives. A husband and wife get into an argument and suddenly both of them backloop into memory about the all the OTHER times in the past that the other had caused such awful pain. And so it goes with all of the experiences of our lives. And through this flow of experience and backloop, our minds cast forward into the future, creating landscapes based on past experiences— memory backloop/cast forward future—the foundation of our behavior. And we come to believe in the self that we are, based on the foundation already described. So, our sense of self is body, feeling, thought, perception, consciousness—against the illusory backdrop of past, present, future, memory and belief.

But if we observe these processes closely, we see that they never last; that no matter how hard we try to cling to pleasure or escape our pain, it is always a span away, receding like the tide. Nothing stays the same. The self we were as young child is not the self we are now.

Where, then, does the inherent unchanging self reside?

No where.

All things change. All things in the relative world create a wave of Anxiety. Anxiety is the result of our Attachment to Permanence, within and without. We want things to last. We want to accept what is before our eyes— but nothing lasts. We are horrified by the idea that all things must come to an end and that we are not encased within an inherent, self-sustaining self. This thought sends us into an existential paroxysm of fear and dread, which, in turn, drives us in our pursuit of Self-Concern.

If you believe that you are an island, an unchanging, self-substantiating self, I challenge you to hold your breath. See how long it takes before you have to open your mouth and breathe; and breathing in air, you breathe in the earth, and when you breathe out, much to your surprise the earth breathes you out!

Where, then, is the self?

Look at the dandelion: a root that pushes through the ground, growing into a low self-contained green leaf; the stem rises and blossoms into a very sunbright yellow flower; the flower gives birth to an ephemeral cloud of seedlings; the wind blows and the seedlings scatter into the air and find a place to rest: earth, root, leaf, flower and seed. Where is the inherent nature of this plant? Is it earth, root, leaf, flower or seed? And so it goes with us.

Shunyata—pronounced Shun-ya-tah—is the Sanskrit word for emptiness. Shunyata is that which lacks an inherent existence, it is total freedom from the conceptualizing mind, it is openness, playfulness, the experience of dependent co-arising, the one in the many, the many in the one.

But you ask: I still feel the one over all else? Philosophically there is the equation of the relative versus the absolute. Relative: there is me; absolute: there is source of me.

Let’s alter our perspective somewhat, make a conceptual leap that hopefully will allow us to see things as they are. How about this: there is conventional truth and there is definitive truth. Conventional truth allows us the fact of the self, an inherent stable being, (which you and I, assuredly, would agree upon) but at the same time definitive truth tells us that we are a changing process that influences and merges with all other things of the earth (I breathe in the earth and the earth breaths me out). In other words, we are the self and we are the earth!

Shunyata, or emptiness, is the definitive truth that everything lacks an inherent existence.

Remember: I breathe in the earth and the earth breathes me out. In other words, you cannot have one without the other; duality and non-duality are opposite sides of a coin.

To see this process from an intellectual point of view is far easier than actualizing it in the physical experience of our lives, which, ultimately, is the key, if we had the leisure of living the life of a monk who meditates and contemplates at least ten hours a day over a ten year period. But for most of us this is impossible—perhaps absurd.

So, how can we—a busy, harried Western People—practice and actualize Shunyata?

Beautiful, poetic word: Shun-ya-tah! Emptiness and Fullness! Form is Emptiness and Emptiness is Form!

Whew! I don’t know about you, but it gives me the chills.

Earlier I spoke of concern for the self, which seems to create much of our despair—I have that which I don’t want, I want that which I don’t have. Self-concern is very much about a belief in the self-contained self. When we concentrate on this self, it excludes all else. In other words, all other objects outside of the self are a reference point to the self! It perpetuates the belief in the unchanging, inherent self. But there is a way out of this, a way in which we can practice No-Self and actualize the One in ourselves.

What is the way of No-Self? It is the way of Concern for Others.

The most, noble sage Shantideva, in his poem, The Way of the Bodhisattva, taught about Equalizing Self with Others and Exchanging Self for Others.

In Equalizing Self with Others, we see that our suffering is the same, whether physically or mentally, we share the five aggregates, the vehicle of our experience. Although our vexations can seem quite different, we can see that they come from the same root. Thus I heard the words of the Buddha: “We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts we make the world.”

In Exchanging Self for Others, we come to see that we are all the same being, regardless of gender, race, intelligence, emotion, condition of body, culture, social standing, wealth, poverty, success or failure. We are all a multitudinous expression of the One. Thus I heard the words of the Buddha: “When the world dissolves everything becomes clear.”

There are three very good books (which have heavily influenced this post) I suggest reading if you are interested in going into more detail on the subject.
Embracing the Mind by B. Allan Wallace
Alone With Others by Stephen Batchelor
The Way of the Bodhisattva by Shantideva (Padmakara Translation Group)

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Park Bench

The sun falls through the trees
onto the park bench.
It explodes into dazzling light.
It burns in the brilliant flame of the sun
and becomes the sun.
And the sun becomes the bench,
a place for the weary, a place
of rest for those who seek
clarity and a reprieve
from the heat of living or the shade
of their dismay.

This is the way it is:
we want what we don't have
and we have what we don't want.
The root of our suffering.

The bench is the witness.
The bench does not judge.
It holds us as it holds its own heart;
the heart wood at its center,
holding firm.
The bench witnesses our desires
and asks for nothing in return.
The bench is the witness.

Buddha Laughter

Breathe in a short breath,
Breathe out a short breath.

Breathe in a long breath,
Breathe out a long breath.

Breathe in, breathe out.
Breath is the key.

Breathe in joy,
Breathe out joy.

One practices like this.

When there is suffering,
Breathe in, breathe out.

When there is vexation,
Breathe in, breathe out.

When following the breath,
One knows the beginning

Of pain and the end of pain.
It's plain to see.

Breathe the world in as
The world breathes you out.