Every day that I come in to work, there’s a sign next to the Hawthorne bridge that says, “Breathe”.
It’s hand painted, and up on a post that I’m sure someone put together with parts from an old abused basketball hoop. I read that same sign each day and, for a moment, ponder it.
I always come to the same conclusion: the author, whoever they are, is fairly profound.
Think about it. It’s sound advice, as it’s one of the few actions we all do for the entire duration of our lives. In some situations, it’s the only thing we can do. Isn’t that the first advice your mom always gave you when you were young and upset or crying?
“Relax. Take a deep breath. It’ll be okay…”
If the sky was falling all around me, and I was sure that I was going to die; I’d like to think that I would pause and enjoy that final breath. I would breathe, however poorly, for it would be all that I could do.
What I find even more amazing and symbolic is giving breath to a dying person through CPR. I’ve had to give CPR on a few occasions in an effort to save a life. I’ve literally willed, pushed, and breathed life in to someone. I’ve tried to snatch them from beyond the grave and from that fiend that is death.
So really, in my instruction book of life, in any situation, I’d say that “Breathe” is probably step one. It gives you a chance to reconsider your actions, and sometimes, just sometimes, not do something foolish.