My Breath, My Gratitude

I was in zazen (meditation) this morning and Roshi (the priest) was guiding us. Normally this does not happen but there is a retreat here on Death and Dying, (how perfect for me and my death obsession huh?). Anyway she said something that I thought was profound and very powerful.
During the meditation she was bringing our attention to our breath and she said" Notice your breath, your life hinges on it. Be with it. " I thought to myself WOW she is so right, my life does hinge on it.
In all the years, (and there have been many) that I have kept a gratitude journal I never once wrote an entry that I was grateful for my breath. During my sit I said a prayer of gratitude for my breath, the breath of my HH, my son, his girlfriend, my daughter, her boyfriend, my sister, her boyfriend, my brother, my father, and all of you. Without our breath this life would not be possible. And a glorious life it is.

Then I came across the following with regard to thought.(feelings)...(check out yesterday's entry) this is from the book "How to Solve Our Human Problems" ( this book is available at the Buddhist temple in Ballard BTW)

" When we identify with our feelings we make them bigger and more solid than what they are"

Nik, that was especially for you.... the "pressure" you spoke of the other day is nothing more than a feeling...a thought. It is NOT who you are. When you can separate yourself from it you will begin to gain and then master power over it. You begin to separate yourself by sitting daily. Hopefully we can share this practice when I come home.

Finally, one of my roommates is a hospice worker that does in-home and facility care for the sick and dying. She was sharing with me how she does this work from a rather selfish point of view. I ask her what she meant by that and she said " the dying see far more clearly that the living."
I ask if she could give me an example of what she meant. She told me the story of a man that had no legs, and who was arthritic. She said his hands were curled up into balls. One day when she went to visit him he was sitting looking out of the window. She ask him what he was looking at, and he replied, "The clouds. Have you ever really looked at the clouds?, I wish I could paint them. " Turns out he was an artist. He no longer had the use of his hands. He shared with her that he never thought his life would end up like it did...basically a torso, living in assisted care, all alone. Yet he sang a song for her... had a gift to give, shared himself from his heart.
In reality he was a lot more of a human being than most...even some of Zen-experts I have met here, (more on that later).
I ask that the next time you look up at the clouds, offer up a prayer for our brother the artist with the big heart.

I bow to you in gratitude,
lotus girl