We can just sit, or lie or stand, or walk and notice, notice the mind and bring the attention to rest, over and over again, on the breath, the simple in and out, the arising and passing, the expansion and contraction.

As we settle into the breath, bringing the attention back again and again, from the mind, from all sensations, we begin to feel more closely into it, more intimate. We can begin to feel for the subtler sensations: the fine hairs in the nostrils, the temperature, the volume, the moment-to-moment awareness of the breath moving into and out of the body. We can follow each movement of the breath as it weaves its way through the nostrils, down the neck through the windpipe, into the lungs expanding the chest, the ribcage and pushing down the diaphragm to expand the abdomen. We can notice it turn, and we can follow it out again, feeling the abdomen contracting as the diaphragm draws upwards, feeling the air releasing from the chest and lungs, and emptying out through the nostrils.

Placing our attention on the breath, we can begin to rest on it and to experience the deep restoration that comes from doing so. As we feel more deeply into it, we can begin to feel our consciousness/awareness moving with it, and we can be moved by it. As we feel ever more deeply into the full sensation of each breath, be it long or short, shallow or

deep, fast or slow, we can experience its effects beyond the apparent confines of our respiratory system. As we hone into the experience of breathing and feel it fully expanding through our body, we might feel the sense that each new breath brings, as it's effects reach out to every part of the body, every cell and blood vessel, every hair follicle and corpuscle.

Or, we might just experience stillness, or agitation, the idea of sensing the breath in the body at all might seem difficult. Whatever we experience is exactly the way it should be, there is no right or wrong way to experience the moment—each of us is so unique, so different in our sensibilities and sensitivities.