Richard Reiss

Who doesn’t like to breathe? Air. Oxygen. Cool. Warm. Breathing is the sustenance of life we rarely think of. Without it, we are gone from this planet. With it, we are sentient beings confronted by the joys and tribulations of getting through another day.

Awake or asleep, through our mouth or our nose, breathing goes on without ever giving it a thought.

I like that. I like that the most important thing I can do to stay alive is done without ever having to acknowledge the activity. I like, too, that when I do think about it, it is often wonderful.

I live at the base of a small mountain and enjoy hiking to the top. It’s a pleasant and invigorating climb. I don’t think about breathing as I walk along the dirt road, but when I get to the spot where the road ends and look out on the wonderful expanse of rolling hills, capped in glistening ice and snow, I can’t help but intentionally take a long, deep breath. It is a small yet joyful exclamation for the beauty that meets my eyes.

My intent is to absorb as much cool air as I can, filling my lungs to capacity. Slowly, with purpose, I then release the air, now warm from my body, as it glides over my lips and into the sky. There is nothing to see; it’s invisible. Nonetheless, how glorious that something we can’t see, a product of that which we are not thinking about, is keeping us alive.

There is something luxuriant about an intentional breath, as if for a brief moment we are simultaneously lost and absorbed by the all-encompassing simplicity of the air on which we are grounded. When I am exhausted, a long slow breath regulates my heartbeat. My breathing and pulse become one, and without ever knowing, or thinking, or trying, I am once again a perpetual motion machine, pulling in and pushing out the air that feeds me.

I’m beginning to believe that air and love are inseparable, and with Valentine’s Day a few hours away, I am reminded of the 1974 hit by The Hollies in which they soulfully sing, “All I need is the air that I breathe and to love you.” It’s true, air and love are the perfect symbiotic relationship. Air provides the life that allows us to love, and love provides the joy that allows us breathe. Under the umbrella of love, we gasp and are breathless, lightheaded and giddy. And best of all, we are not alone. Love requires a partner to share our breath and to see the things that are invisible in our heart.

Lucky me; I have a partner. When I told her love is invisible, she laughed. When I suggested that love and air and hope and every important and meaningful thing in our lives is untouchable, she questioned my sanity. Yet when I took her hand and pressed it to my mouth, breathing gently upon it, she felt the warmth of other things — the memories of 40 years and the invisible hope for that which has yet to come. She saw all of that and more, the beautiful and invisible elements our eyes refuse to see, discovered within the boundaries of her heart. There was kindness and faith and joy and forgiveness. And, of course, there was me. And, of course, there was her. And neither one of us was thinking about what we were doing. But yes, we were breathing.

So I did it again, just like on the mountain top. I took in the air, as much as possible, allowing my chest to expand with my heart. I closed my eyes and held my breath for as long as I could, until finally, breathlessly, I released one magnificent burst of invisible air. And then I opened my eyes. And there she was as she has always been, everything that I ever wanted. Not invisible. Always in my heart. The air that I breathe and the one that I love.