Most of the people I used to know reside in cemeteries, and they don’t breathe. The ones I know do breathe, but it’s temporary. My greatest inspiration in life was my first inhale as I separated from my mother. I will indeed expire after my last exhale, like so many before me.
Breathing is something I do every day, also on weekends, over and over and over again. During the day, many things distract me from my breathing, small things which are far less critical to my existence than taking Air into my body. Sometimes, on rare occasions when I feel it would have been better if I wasn’t breathing at all, I make an effort and inhale; the exhale takes care of itself. My breath comes and goes; then it stays, but only for a short while. Breathing affects every single organ in my body, even my lungs.
The way I breathe reflects my past, present, and future; it’s here & now, but it’s also wherever & whenever. Breathing helps me with my doings, but more importantly, it supports my being. It’s my most basic act of life, and doing it in sync with who I am is key to my well-being.