Every morning I look in the mirror and see my father staring back. I often wonder what advice I'd give if the young "me" surprised me with a visit from the distant past. What advice could I possibly offer that might alter his life? Then, it dawned on me...
Take a moment to inhale before charging in. Sure! You're up to the challenge. You're invincible (within reason), but take a moment to breathe.
Rushing only slows you down. Stop and breathe. When the anger rears its ugly head...breath. Enjoy each moment...Unbridled passion, hurt, pain...sit with it, own it. Feel the pounding of your heart when you face the music. Breath! Face your fears with fresh air and reward your heroism. Breathe.
What will happen if you're less than perfect? Will the earth not circle the sun? Will the sun not rise in the east and set in the west? Breath.
I know Mr. March, there's so little time and so much to accomplish, but unless you stop, breathe, and experience the 'it' you'll lose 'it' entirely.
Feel the spotlight warm on your eyelids. Feel the tension rise and dissipate the moment that first note is sung. You know the lyrics. Breath.
Inhale and feel that glorious sensation when you first slice through the water in the pool. Breathe! Trickling sweat on your brow as you job through Rock Creek Park. Did you hear that mockingbird sing as you passed by? Breathe!
Strectch across your four-poster bed, crank up the music and feel it permeate every pore of your body. Breathe!
Be a sponge! Linger on that delicate kiss. Look him in the eye and tell him you love him before it's too late. Breathe.
Snowflakes on the windowsill. Enjoy the thrill of the chill. Blow your breath on the glass and write your name. Breathe.
Don't run away. Don't pull away. Don't beat yourself up. Breathe.
Lay under the Christmas tree, look up...the dazzling sparkle will take your breath away. Breathe.
You are everything that I no longer am. You are vibrant, handsome...the sun, the moon, and the starts. Count your blessings instead of sheep. Stop. Breathe. Look. Listen. Learn.
...And, Mr. March, have that slice of cake. You won't stay deliciously thin forever.