Breath and Being: The Art of Presence
Photographer: Chris Ensey
Writing: Clara
Breath. It is something we carry with us everywhere, a constant companion which hums beneath the cacophony of daily life. Quiet and unassuming, it is a rhythm we rarely pause to notice. Hidden within its automatic constancy is a profound connection to the present moment, to ourselves, and to the world.
Across centuries and disciplines, breath has been more than a biological function. It has been celebrated as a gateway to awareness, a tool for healing, and a reminder of our impermanence. Ancient yogis, existential philosophers, and contemporary psychologists alike have pondered its role, finding in it a bridge between the tangible and the ineffable. What if this simple act of of inhaling and exhaling holds the key to something deeper?
The Rhythm of Existence
For Martin Heidegger, existence is a matter of engagement. In Being and Time, he introduces Dasein, translated literally as “being-there”. Dasein frames existence as a matter of interplay, conceptualizing human life as being in a constant exchange with the world. To exist is not to sit passively but to move, to act, to entwine ourselves with time and place.
Breath, in this context, becomes a metaphor for Dasein. Each inhalation brings the world in. Its air, its scents, its fleeting essence. Each exhalation offers something back: a gesture of release, of relinquishing control. The phenomenon of breathing becomes not mere biology but a rhythm of reciprocity, a small but profound act of being-in-the-world.
The yogic tradition has long recognized breath as a gateway to presence. Patanjali introduces the concept of pranayama in his Yoga Sutras, as an art of breath regulation. The “separation of the flow of inhalation and exhalation” is described as a way in which to calm one’s mind. Modern practitioners drawn similar parallels to this ancient practice, with studies showing how deliberate breathing can quiet anxiety and sharpen focus. Breath, for Patanjali, is both anchor and avenue. A way to bridge the restless mind and the stillness of now.
Breath as Memory
What happens when breath falters? When life intrudes, pressing its weight on our chests, making each inhale feel like labor?
Bessel van der Kolk, in his groundbreaking book The Body Keeps the Score, describes breath as a witness to our history. Stress and trauma, he argues, don’t just reside in the mind; they inhabit the body, tightening muscles, quickening pulses, and fragmenting our sense of ease. Breath is a record of our struggles, a barometer for the storms we have weathered. Patanjali writes something similar in his yoga sutras, where the patterns in breathing are described as a direct reflection of one’s state of mind.
“labored breathing (is) the symptom of a distracted state of mind ”
Dr. Belisa Vranich, a psychologist and breathing specialist, takes this insight further. She has observed how most of us, conditioned by desk jobs and constant stress, have lost touch with the natural rhythm of diaphragmatic breathing. She observes that we live on shallow sips of air, locked in a cycle of tension. Vranich’s work is not about shaming these habits. Rather, it is an invitation to return to simplicity. To rediscover the deep, full breaths that connect us to ourselves.
Breath, in this light, becomes a means of reconciliation. To breathe is to reflect the state of out minds on our physical bodies. Deep and mindful breathing is way to soften these edges, a reminder that healing is not a linear journey but a quiet act of attention, moment by moment.
Breathing Through Time
Each breath marks the passing of time. It is both ordinary and profound, a measure of life’s transience. Heidegger, ever the philosopher of mortality, saw in our finitude not despair but possibility. He called it Being-toward-death: an awareness that life’s brevity is what gives it weight.
Each breath, then, becomes a small affirmation of this truth. It is a reminder of impermanence, but also of choice. To breathe is to decide: how will I spend this moment? What will I notice? What will I release? The deliberate control of breath embodies this philosophy. It transforms something automatic into something intentional, offering a pause in an inhale and exhale, a pause during which life’s noise gives way to clarity.
Breath doesn’t ask us to step back from life’s complexities; it draws us closer. It sharpens our awareness of what matters and anchors us in the here and now. It is not an escape but an embrace.
The Art of Noticing
And so, we return to the simplest act: noticing. Breathing happens whether we attend to it or not, but to pause and feel it. To notice the rise of the chest, the fall of the exhale is to find something profound in the ordinary. It is a quiet rebellion against the relentless pace of modernity, a moment of stillness and rest in a world that demands perpetual motion.
This is not to suggest that breath is a remedy for life’s trials and tribulations. Life will remain messy, its weight unpredictable. But within the quiet rhythm of inhale and exhale lies a steadying force. A reminder of what it means to be alive, here, now.
So, the next time you feel lost, scattered, or overwhelmed, try this: Pause. Notice the air as it enters your lungs, the warmth as it leaves. Let the act of breathing remind you of your place in the world, your tether to the moment. It may not solve everything, but it might help you see clearly, if only for an instant, what it means to simply be.
