Alyssa Luboff, PhD

If you are like me, the very thought of breathwork can leave you gasping for air. No form of mindfulness sounds less relaxing or restoring than being asked to focus on your breath. Your heart starts racing. Your breathing becomes fast and shallow. Or maybe you get a queasy feeling in your stomach. For people who suffer from conditions such as PTSD, anxiety, and chronic pain, the thought of breathwork can bring to mind more panic than peace.

I once read the Tao Te Ching from cover to cover in a single afternoon. Sucked in and mesmerized, I had no words; simply, the truths of the Chinese classic resonated with my soul. This is how it is to flow with the universe. I emerged from my office as if to another world, my head swirling with the poetry of being. Everything felt alive, as if it were speaking to me, as if we were not separate, but deeply interconnected.

Last month, I brought home from my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah reception three plants wrapped in foil. Since our apartment is small, I left them on the balcony. I thought it would be a good way to let Nature take care of the plants and not to have to worry much about them. After a few days, I noticed their leaves were drying out in the summer sun. No amount of water seemed to help. After a few more days, I realized the foil was directing the sun’s rays onto the plants and burning