Have you noticed that life is really darn-tootin’ stressful? I have. Between the work we do for the money we need to pay the bills we wish we didn’t have to begin with but provide us the comforts we need, life is an endless morass of stress-inducing muck. Unless we all win the next big jackpot (and I’m seriously thinking we will), we will have to deal with most of this stress for the rest of our lives. So what can we do to get through it all. The answer is just breathe.
No, don’t hyperventilate. That will not help. Breathing is all we have sometimes when we come face-to-face with our boss and we are telling him “I told you that three times and you didn’t listen to me, so don’t blame me.” In my head, I’m not being so civil. In fact, my brain conjures up the image of myself morphing into a big ferocious mountain lion that pounces across the table and eviscerates the boss. On the outside my face might be twitching a little bit, but my breathe is slow and metered. If it weren’t, I would have quit on the spot about 20 times already.
It is shocking to me how frequently I forget to breathe or I lose control of my breathe altogether. I would concentrate so much on something else I was doing, that I literally would neglect to breathe. Running up a flight of stares, doing long division, and staring down my prey (aka the aforementioned idiot), are all occasions when I have forgotten to breathe. It sucks. It made me more anxious and much more likely to snap at Adam when he asked me something simple.
Before you think I have gone all meditatey-eastern religiony on you, I must admit that there are some people who have taken breathing a bit too far. Just the other day, I stumbled upon a man who claimed to have hated his a**hole for thirty years until he learned how to breathe anally. The only kind of gas that I know of that comes near my anus is not one that anyone would breathe or want to breathe. Of course you do’t believe me, but you should see for yourself.
This is the same creepy dude who was trying to get the gay mens to gather and do some sort of orgasmic yoga. It was not yoga and it was not orgasm inducing. It was just plain goofy. But does creepy dude have a point about learning to love his bum by giving it some fresh air? Who knows…I just think that he needs to do some market research and come up with a better name. Maybe invent a Sanskrit word or just steal something from an ancient scroll.