A Breath Prayer for Corona Virus (and beyond)

I got sick a few weeks ago. If we weren’t in the middle of a pandemic, I wouldn’t have thought much of it. I woke up feeling off. I was achy and my chest was congested. It was worse by the end of the day. I tried to shrug off the nagging question. Of course, it wasn’t the virus. My PA assured me it couldn’t be because I hadn’t run a temperature.[1] I spent the next two weeks alternating between feeling better and having the flu-like symptoms return. After a hopeful (or maybe just determined) start, I spent most of Easter in bed feeling awful.

I could breathe. I definitely didn’t need to be hospitalized. It seemed most likely to be a cold or flu. And unlike many, I have insurance and resources to treat my symptoms readily available (for which I’m grateful). And, also, even more convinced that a better solution for healthcare is best for the nation as a whole as well as the right thing for the poor and marginalized.

But being sick in the season of Covid-19 was scary. I couldn’t help asking myself, ‘Will I get worse?’ ‘Am I going to make someone else sick?’ I’ve worn a mask outside and am only seeing the people in my household but still.

So. I took medicine and vitamins, drank tea, tried to slow down for as long as it took. But I’ve found it harder than usual to be still.

Because there is the funk of feeling bad and being stuck at home. And the sadness of all of it—of people dying alone and essential workers risking their lives and unemployment skyrocketing and a spike in minors contacting sexual abuse hotlines. And then there’s the anxiety and grief of others that impact me and all of us because, as always, we’re connected.

My spiritual director said it’s like being in a London bomb shelter during the Blitz—you’re safe for the moment but you know terrible things are happening out there and those bad things may eventually find you. Or they might not.

And that terrible image is exacerbated by how surreal it all is. Because when I look outside my window, I see spring flowers blooming, green leaves and blue skies, people jogging, walking their dogs, pushing strollers. Only at second glance is it clear that they’re (mostly) keeping a careful six feet between themselves and wearing masks.

All of which has made prayer hard for me lately. My brain is foggy. My thoughts are racing. I can’t stop coughing.[2]

I’ve felt invited to return to breath prayer. Breath prayers are simple and powerful. They are an ancient Christian practice that can be engaged in a focused way during meditation as well as in the midst of daily activities. So, I’ve been breathing in “here I am” and breathing out “meet me here.” Sometimes I clarify, “Spirit, meet me here.” Or “Goodness, meet me here.” Or “Healer, meet me here.” Or, “Protector, meet me here.”

I love the way breath prayers can almost bypass the mind to connect with the heart and soul more directly. This makes them especially helpful in complicated and open-ended situations like a pandemic when our nervous systems are on high alert and our ability to think clearly is compromised. And they’re easily incorporated into real life. Breath prayers are great over morning coffee or when you’re reading the news or while meditating. They also work well on a long walk, while folding laundry, and during all kinds of zoom meetings.

I invite you to try this breath prayer with me. May it calm anxiety and foster compassion in us. May we sense the healing and strengthening of the Spirit in the midst.

[1] But there are mild cases where the infected person never (or later) runs a fever. My neighbor, an MD, encouraged me to consider myself as having the virus as a precaution, explaining she’s hearing of some mild cases with symptoms like mine and no fever (though they’re usually much younger than me). And my niece tested positive after returning from Spain but never ran a fever.

[2] After nearly 3 weeks, I got tested to be sure and to be able to contribute to research if I had the virus. Thankfully, my test was negative though the process of getting tested at a government-run site in an abandoned and heavily graffitied Home Depot parking lot was admittedly surreal. My wheezing and cough are slowly getting better.