Breathe On Me

“Breathe on me, when you’re not strong.
And I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on…”

What?

It’s “LEAN on me?”

Well… That was awkward…

But mangled song lyrics have never stopped me before, and they shall NOT stop me now…

You have to know somebody pretty well for them to breathe on you. Pretty darn well. Pretty amazingly darn well.

And if they did breathe on you, by accident or on purpose, you’d have to trust them an awful lot to not respond by freaking out, shuddering, or otherwise giving loud body language indicators that you are totally and completely creeped out.

Ewww…

And I haven’t even brought up the whole “morning -or-otherwise breath” issue. You’re welcome.

(For the record, breathe all you want around me – without a sense of smell, it’s pretty much impossible to knock me over, even with dragon breath.)

(But breathing on my face is still creepy. Just sayin’…)

So let’s go to the reason for all this pondering, and then I’ll inject the usual Calberti level of fluffy and weird into it…

“He spoke to them again and said, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Then he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.””
John 20:21-22 (NLT)

Cue the fluffy and weird..

Beka the dog can put me right to sleep by breathing on me.

Yup – fluffy AND weird. Well played, Calbert – well played.

Thank ya… thank ya very muchhhhh. Uh-HUH!

(You know, Elvis impersonations don’t translate well to the written page. Good to know.)

And although it’s weird, it’s still true – Beka can put me right out by breathing on me. No, my dog doesn’t convert oxygen to knockout gas. (Although that would be a cool super power.) I think it’s more the rhythm of her breathing, and the closeness.

Um… you’re still flatlining the weird-o-meter, big boy.

Let me explain. Or at least make lighthearted commentary to accompany the weird.

Beka usually sleeps with me, since if she sleeps with me, she keeps me on my side, and I don’t have sleep apnea episodes. There are other tricks one can use to achieve this, but the only one that seems to work for me is the accidental one – when Beka sleeps with me, I stay on my side and keep breathing.

Have I mentioned I love my dog?

Anyway, besides the side benefit of having a medium-sized but very long-legged beastie putting out the heat of a small sun next to you on a freezing winter night, the other major thing I’ve noticed is that when Beka breathes on me, I go right to sleep.

Why? Well…

Perhaps the rhythm of it, the cool, warm, cool, warm cycle of inhale and exhale, contributes to my journey off to snoozieland.

Perhaps the sense of peace and relaxation that comes from knowing that this loving, fluffy medium-sized but very long-legged beastie is sleeping comfortably and soundly right next to me encourages me to do the same.

Or perhaps all this specualtion is a load of Calbert-flavored hooey. You be the judge.

What isn’t hooey, I think, is the fact that feeling the breath of another living creature is a personal, intimate thing.

(Especially if it’s the breath of a bear, ’cause you’re about to be an intimate part of it’s digestive operation. Yikes.)

(There’s a meme I saw on Facebook that makes me laugh – it’s a picture of a bear, and it says “I don’t always kill and eat things, but when it do, it’s because they are things and I’m a bear.”)

Anyway, getting back to breathing…

Jesus breathed on the disciples, and said “Receive the Holy Spirit.” I suppose you could see that as the Spirit being breathed into them, or God’s spirit coming in like a breath, or something like that…

But in usual Calberti fashion, I’ve got a tilted view on it…

What if Jesus was speaking to those He loved in close proximity, so close that they could feel His breath? What if these words weren’t spoken, but whispered – “Receive the Holy Spirit.” 

After loss, after despair, and after restoration, what if the Disciples just couldn’t get close enough to the One they loved? Close enough to feel His breath as they spent time together?

Like I said, my view is probably a little tilted. All I know is that feeling the breath of another living creature is a personal, intimate thing. 

And Jesus was and always is personal and intimate. We’re the ones who draw away.

Stuff worth thinking about, eh wot?

Meanwhile, I’ll be over here, snuggled next to the medium-sized but very long-legged furball, feeling her breathe as I fall asleep.

You just call on me, brother, when you need a friend. We all need, some-bod-y to breathe on…

“Cal?”

Yes?

“Get away from me.”

Sorry. My bad.

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