New From Ruth
Blog 1 Be Still Now . . . Be Still
August 3, 2023 by Ruthie Stender 2 Comments
I grew up hearing, “Be still now….be still.” My parents meant for me to go away, to stop being a bother, to not “crowd” them. I often wandered off to my cave up on the hillside, just above our house out on the holler. With the cool earth beneath my bottom and the smell of dirt in my nose, I did as I was told. I sat still. Inside the shadows of my cave, I watched. I could see my family, but they couldn’t see me.
Subtle sounds of nature seeped into my ears, capturing my attention. Rustling leaves, busy squirrels, chirping birds. And, in the quietness, I noticed my breath; how it felt and sounded as it moved in and out of my body. It felt separate from me; like it had its own mind. Like it could just stop if it wanted to. I was convinced that it could.
Polly, my little sister who was profoundly disabled, was evidence that all of life is contained in the breath. She had no control over bodily functions, so it was curious to me how the breath moved an otherwise static body. It was like the breath was breathing her, not the other way around. Her seizures really confirmed this. A seizure would leave her limp and lifeless, as if some greater force was sucking out her very essence. Mom would tap on Polly’s chest and rub her face while asking her to come to, to come back. To breathe. Watching Polly, so often on the precipice of dying, over her short life of nearly fourteen years proved to me that the breath is what holds us between life and death.
Breath is life.
Blog 2 Be Still Now . . . Be Still
August 3, 2023 by Ruthie Stender 2 Comments
I grew up hearing, “Be still now….be still.” My parents meant for me to go away, to stop being a bother, to not “crowd” them. I often wandered off to my cave up on the hillside, just above our house out on the holler. With the cool earth beneath my bottom and the smell of dirt in my nose, I did as I was told. I sat still. Inside the shadows of my cave, I watched. I could see my family, but they couldn’t see me.
Subtle sounds of nature seeped into my ears, capturing my attention. Rustling leaves, busy squirrels, chirping birds. And, in the quietness, I noticed my breath; how it felt and sounded as it moved in and out of my body. It felt separate from me; like it had its own mind. Like it could just stop if it wanted to. I was convinced that it could.
Polly, my little sister who was profoundly disabled, was evidence that all of life is contained in the breath. She had no control over bodily functions, so it was curious to me how the breath moved an otherwise static body. It was like the breath was breathing her, not the other way around. Her seizures really confirmed this. A seizure would leave her limp and lifeless, as if some greater force was sucking out her very essence. Mom would tap on Polly’s chest and rub her face while asking her to come to, to come back. To breathe. Watching Polly, so often on the precipice of dying, over her short life of nearly fourteen years proved to me that the breath is what holds us between life and death.
Breath is life.
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- Jane Doe
Be Still… Be Still
by Ruth Stender August 3rd
I grew up hearing, “Be still now….be still.” My parents meant for me to go away, to stop being a bother, to not “crowd” them. I often wandered off to my cave up on the hillside, just above our house out on the holler. With the cool earth beneath my bottom and the smell of dirt in my nose, I did as I was told. I sat still. Inside the shadows of my cave, I watched. I could see my family, but they couldn’t see me.
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Breathing Blog
I grew up hearing, “Be still now….be still.” My parents meant for me to go away, to stop being a bother, to not “crowd” them. I often wandered off to my cave up on the hillside, just above our house out on the holler. With the cool earth beneath my bottom and the smell of dirt in my nose, I did as I was told. I sat still. Inside the shadows of my cave, I watched. I could see my family, but they couldn’t see me.
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Be More Blogs
I grew up hearing, “Be still now….be still.” My parents meant for me to go away, to stop being a bother, to not “crowd” them. I often wandered off to my cave up on the hillside, just above our house out on the holler. With the cool earth beneath my bottom and the smell of dirt in my nose, I did as I was told. I sat still. Inside the shadows of my cave, I watched. I could see my family, but they couldn’t see me.
Read More
Even More Blogs
I grew up hearing, “Be still now….be still.” My parents meant for me to go away, to stop being a bother, to not “crowd” them. I often wandered off to my cave up on the hillside, just above our house out on the holler. With the cool earth beneath my bottom and the smell of dirt in my nose, I did as I was told. I sat still. Inside the shadows of my cave, I watched. I could see my family, but they couldn’t see me.
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Each of Patrick McKeown’s books explore breathing techniques grounded in science to improve physical and mental health, whether you're an athlete, a yogi, or just someone looking to feel healthier.