Just skip to the bottom. And then go and have a banana milkshake.

I have this thing. I've started, yes, a thing. This thing--I sit. I sit and I breathe. Just sit and just breath. I breathe slowly and thoughtfully and fill padded, warm lungs with a flood of thick waves of air and I hold that air in. I hold it in, selfishly. I let the waves of air splash through my entire body, rapid and cool and quick--savoring the rush of motion because I can feel it race through my lungs, my heart, my hands, my knees, my toes, awakening every little cell with a brisk, salty kiss. And then I exhale--forcefully. I exhale and the air does not violently crash out back into the world but flows, warmly, moist and soft, out of my body. Out of my lungs, my heart...my toes. I just sit and just breathe.

Breathing is my new thing. I had not taken a breath before this. I had not taken a breath and felt the urgency, the necessity, the desperation and importance of such a mechanical, natural act.

My body--my body has taken my breaths. My body, kindly, has alway taken care of this "minor" necessity of life. But now, I breathe. My body--she teaches me what to pay attention to. I can make my chest rise and fall and I can see my heartbeat skip in gratification and acknowledgment. I can feel accomplished.

I can feel the other bodies, breathing. Sometimes--I might find another person who is doing the breathing by choice--maybe because, like me, they discovered they love to breathe, or maybe they just know they have to, or even some cases, they just can't seem to make themselves stop. In that case--the breath is heavy, taunting, thick and pounding....I'd prefer the body to breathe for me in that instance.

Breathing. My new thing. Sitting and breathing. And then I begin thinking. And then my thoughts begin to grow and crystalize and complicate themselves, weaving intricately between reality and creation and confusion and realization but then back to breathing and simplicity. The overwhelming feeling of Awe.

I conclude nothing. I cannot tell you the purpose of life or the purpose of trying to define the purpose of life....but I manage to settle my thoughts on dust. Start dust. And imperfections...and definitions...and words, oh beautiful translations and understanding and communication with life. And love...and life....and love...and life...and love...huh.

LOVE: A RESPECT FOR LIFE, OFFERED WITH THE HIGHEST DEGREE OF HUMANITY THAT ONE IS EQUIPPED WITH GIVING.

LIFE: TO LOVE.

Breath. And Waves. And Scar.