The Meditation of Breathing

Have you ever noticed how your breath changes with your emotions? How it quickens when you’re anxious, or deepens when you’re at peace? Your breath, this simple yet profound process that has been with you since your first moments of life, holds the key to present-moment awareness. It is both an anchor to this moment and a gateway to a deeper understanding of yourself.

The breath, often called ‘prāna’ in Sanskrit, means life-force or vital energy. Our ancestors recognised that breath is more than just an autonomic bodily function. It is the most immediate and intimate connection we have to life itself. Each breath we take is a reminder that we are alive, that we are part of the great rhythm of existence.

This rhythm extends far beyond our individual experience. With every breath, we participate in an ancient evolutionary dance that has been ongoing for billions of years upon our planet. The oxygen we breathe in comes from the plants around us, and the carbon dioxide we breathe out serve as food for these same plants – this continual symbiotic relationship is a cycle that is as old as life itself.

Our breath is part of the Earth’s respiratory system, a vast network of exchange that connects all living beings. When we breathe, we are in communion with the trees, the grasses, the forests, and all the green beings that contribute to our oxygenated atmosphere.

The rhythm of our breath is one of the many rhythms that exist in nature; the ebb and flow of ocean tides, the alternation of night and day, the changing of seasons. Just as the Earth herself breathes – through the seasonal cycles of plant growth and decay, through the ocean’s absorption and release of gases, through the daily rhythms of photosynthesis – we too are breathing in constant harmony with these greater cycles.

Understanding this deeper dimension of the breath can transform our meditation practice. Each inhalation becomes an acknowledgment of our interdependence and connection to the natural world. Each exhalation becomes an offering back to the great web of life. By staying with the breath and feeling its aliveness within us, we can transcend beyond the intellectual understanding and embody the truth that we are not separate from nature, but an integral part of it.

When we begin our meditation journey, the breath becomes our most trusted companion. Unlike our thoughts, emotions, or external circumstances, the breath is always here, always now, always available as a point of anchor. It requires no special equipment, no particular belief system, and no complex understanding. It is indiscriminate – available to all, regardless of where they are on their spiritual path.

Our bodies carry an innate wisdom of the breath; when we’re born, we naturally breathe deeply and fully. Watch a sleeping baby and you’ll notice their whole belly rise and fall with each breath (– I’m almost jealous of their elasticated diaphragms). And then, somewhere along the way, we accumulate trauma and stress, our breathing shallows and becomes restricted, or held.

With each difficult experience, each moment of feeling unsafe, our breath adapts. Perhaps we learned to hold our breath when scared, to breathe shallowly when anxious, to keep our bellies tight as a form of protection. These patterns, born from our attempts to cope with life’s challenges, gradually become habitual. We begin to inhabit only the upper portions of our lungs, forgetting the deep, nourishing breaths that once came so naturally.

Our breath becomes a living record of our emotional states and experiences. Notice how it quickens with excitement, catches with surprise, sighs with relief. In moments of joy, it naturally deepens and flows freely. In times of worry, it might become short and choppy, or we might even find ourselves unconsciously holding it. The breath is like a faithful friend who mirrors back to us our internal weather patterns, always reflecting our emotional state.

Western science is now confirming what Eastern cultures have long understood; that each emotional state is associated with a distinct breathing pattern. Sadness often brings sighing breaths, anger tends to create rapid, shallow breathing, while contentment generally involves slower, fuller breaths. By becoming aware of these patterns, we begin to develop a more intimate understanding of our emotional life.

This relationship between breath and emotion works both ways. Just as our emotional states affect our breathing, our breath can influence our emotional landscape. When we’re caught in anxiety’s grip, conscious deep breathing can help regulate our nervous system. When anger rises, following a few slow breaths can create space for clearer thinking. The breath becomes both messenger and medicine.

Yet this awareness isn’t about trying to control or fix our breathing. Rather, it’s about bringing gentle curiosity to these patterns that have served as survival strategies for so long. As we sit in meditation, we might notice how certain thoughts trigger subtle changes in our breath, or how memories might cause us to hold our breath without realizing it. Each observation is an opportunity for understanding and, gradually, for letting go of patterns that no longer serve us.

Reflection Question: 

What is your breath telling you in this moment? How does your breath change with different emotional states? What patterns in your breathing have you begun to notice?

The breath teaches us one of life’s most fundamental truths, and what I consider a cosmic law – impermanence. Each breath arises, exists for a moment, and then dissolves; just like universes do, or even our thoughts, emotions, and all experiences in life. Nothing stays the same; everything is in perpetual flow. When we sit in meditation, every breath becomes a teaching in this truth – we cannot hold onto one breath, we cannot make it last forever, we cannot save it for later. Each inhalation will inevitably dissolve into an exhalation.

As we observe our breath in meditation, we begin to experience this truth intimately, in an embodied way. We may notice how each breath has its own unique quality – some long, some short, some deep, some shallow – yet all sharing the same nature of arising and passing away. This simple observation can help us understand the impermanent nature of all things; our joys, our sorrows, our challenges, our triumphs. Like the breath, they too shall pass. This understanding isn’t to diminish our experiences, but rather to help us hold them more lightly, with more grace and ease; taking refuge or finding joy in their impermanence.

The Practice

Starting a breath meditation practice is beautifully simple, though not always easy. Find your comfortable seat in your sacred space, the one we created together in our previous exploration. Set your timer for the practice. Allow your spine to be long but not rigid, your shoulders to soften, your hands to rest naturally in your lap or on your thighs.

Then, simply begin to notice your breath. Not changing it, or trying to make it deeper, slower or different in any way– just noticing. Notice where you feel the breath most easily in your body; perhaps it’s at the nostrils, where you feel the slight cooling sensation of the in-breath and the warmth of the out-breath. Maybe it’s the gentle rising and falling of your chest or belly. There’s no right or wrong here, just an honouring of your experience as completely unique.

You may notice that as soon as you try to pay attention to your breath, your mind becomes very busy. This is completely normal and, in fact, an important part of the practice. Each time you notice your mind has wandered (and it will, again and again), simply return to the sensation of breathing. This returning to the breath the practice, for each time you wake out of your thought-trance, you awaken to awareness itself. Remember, it’s not about having a perfectly quiet mind – but rather, cultivating the capacity to begin again, with loving-kindness towards yourself, each time we notice we’ve drifted away.

Reflection Question:

Where does your breath feel most alive in your body? In the space between noticing you’ve wandered and returning to the breath, what do you discover? What helps you cultivate kindness in this returning?

Common Experiences

As you settle into this practice, you may notice the breath feeling mechanical or unnatural when you first pay attention to it. This is completely normal – just continue to observe without trying to change anything. Another common experience is that your mind may judge the practice as “boring” or “not working.” Remember that we’re not trying to achieve any particular state – we’re simply practising being present with what is. You may also feel frustrated by how often your mind wanders. My teacher Tara Brach encourages us to treat the wandering mind as if training a puppy, with kind and gentle loving attention. Acknowledge that each time you notice the wandering it is a moment of awakening and coming into awareness.

When Breathing Isn’t Easy

While the breath is our most accessible anchor to the present moment, for some of us, focusing on the breath may not feel comfortable or supportive. Whether due to respiratory conditions, anxiety, past trauma, or other health challenges, breath-focused meditation can sometimes create more tension than ease. If this resonates with your experience, please know that this is a valid experience too. However, if it is too uncomfortable for you, then please discontinue the practice.

Not every type of meditation is for everyone, there are many doorways into cultivating presence. It is important to remember that meditation is not about forcing ourselves into any particular experience, but rather about finding what supports us in connecting with our present moment experience. Just as a bird has many branches to land on, we too have many anchors for our awareness.

When the breath is particularly uncomfortable an alternate anchor can be feeling your body’s connection to the Earth by gravity, it doesn’t matter if you’re not physically on the ground floor, your intent will play the role of grounding you through the gravitational pull of the Earth regardless of which floor you’re on. Feeling this connection to the Earth beneath us can be profoundly stabilising as you notice how the ground fully supports you, without any effort needed. This could be through the sensation of the weight of your hands resting in your lap or where your body meets the cushion or chair on which you’re seated. This connection to the Earth’s holding presence can be especially comforting when breathing feels challenging.

If the body is not a comfortable anchor for you due to physical pain or discomfort arising when sitting still, ambient sounds around you can serve as a beautiful gateway to being fully present in the moment. Like breath, sounds naturally arise and pass away, teaching us about impermanence while keeping us grounded in the here and now. You may notice distant traffic, birdsong, the hum of an air-conditioner, or simple silence – all can serve as points of return for your wandering attention.

The key is to find what naturally draws your attention and feels supportive for you. Be willing to challenge yourself without pushing past your threshold of comfort. We will be exploring these alternate anchors more deeply in the upcoming practices. Trust your intuition and let your experience guide you.

Reflection Question:

What feels like a natural resting place for your attention? What elements of your experience invite you into presence with gentleness and ease?

Deepening the Practice

As we continue to practise, something subtle begins to shift. We start to notice that the breath is not just a physical process – it’s an invitation to intimacy with our present experience. When we’re truly present with our breath, we’re present with life itself. We begin to notice the spaces between the breaths, the subtle transitions from in-breath to out-breath. We might notice how our whole body participates in breathing, how our thoughts and emotions influence our breath, and how our breath influences our state of mind.

Reflection Question:

When you sit with your breath, what do you notice about your relationship with it? What stories or patterns emerge? How does this relationship change as you move through your day?

The beauty of breath meditation extends far beyond our formal sitting practice. Once we begin to develop this intimate relationship with our breath, we can return to it at any moment. Stuck in traffic? Take a conscious breath. Feeling overwhelmed at work? Notice your breath. Having a difficult conversation? Let your breath ground you.

This is how meditation becomes more than just a practice, and into a way of living. Befriending your breath, so that it becomes more than just your constant companion, to a sturdy thread of awareness running through your day, connecting moments of formal practice with the rest of your day.

The golden principle here is that there’s no particular experience to strive towards; your breath is already perfect just as it is. Your only task is to be present with it, let it guide you back to this moment, again and again. Become the student of your breath, let it teach you.

For the next two weeks, I invite you to explore this simple yet profound practice. Sit with your breath each day in your sacred space, for whatever duration you’ve chosen. Notice what arises – the easiness, the difficulty, the boredom, the insights. Hold it all with gentle awareness. You’re not trying to get anywhere; you’re simply learning to be here, breathing in, breathing out.

To practice the meditation, you can use this audio guide: