Just an Air Be 'n Be — Love with Roots

“Focus on your breath,” says my yoga teacher. “In. Out. Thoughts will come. Let them pass across your mind like clouds across the sky. Return your focus to your breath.”

My thoughts are clouds alright, piling up thicker and thicker, until my mind is as overcast as a November sky pregnant with a snowstorm. Oh yeah, follow the breath. In: I want to have a family reunion, any Airbnb-type rentals around here? Out: sharing your home and belongings with strangers. Gutsy.

In. Hmm, am I smelling smoke? Whenever a haze of smoke colors the air, people in northeastern Minnesota call the Forest Service, the DNR, local radio stations—where’s the fire? What--Alberta? But isn’t that like way over north of Montana somewhere? You sure there’s not something burning just the next lake over?

Out. Smoke is proof our air is whisked across the continent and around the world in a matter of days.

In. Air is shared in such an intimate way, drawn into my nose, mouth, lungs and bloodstream, kisses of oxygen sustaining life.

Out. Oxygen from the cedars in my backyard mix with carbon dioxide from my breath, swirl together inside our little bubble, the Earth’s envelope of air.

In. The pandemic illuminates the world-wide sharing of air with such tragedy. Wow. That is a big, dense Thought Cloud.

Out. A prayer—for those struggling for breath and for those caring for them. Breath as gift and as participant. Wearing a mask is a responsibility and a kindness.

In. A red squirrel scampers up a white pine. His scolding chirrrr reminds me. We share air, too. The merganser momma and her trail of ducklings, the mosquito sipping my oxygen-rich blood, even the walleye fanning lake water through her gills depend on this miracle mix of molecules.

Out. Black spruce, sphagnum moss, and water lilies participate too from the flip side of the mix, taking in carbon dioxide, sending out oxygen.

In—thank you. Thank You: for this gift of air, of being.

Out—help. Help: me remember this gift is communal, shared with all of life on this dear planet.

My body (and its cloudy mind) is an Airbnb, a temporary rental unit for the flow of life. Air in. Air out. Air Be and Be.