The mouth is a versatile arena, the location of eating, speaking, kissing, biting, and (in conjunction with the nasal cavity) breathing. Perhaps the first four can be emotionally laden, but isn't breathing uncomplicated and automatic? When one attends to breathing, though, it turns out also to be a full and rich process. Eastern techniques of meditation recommend "following the breath," focusing upon the inhalation, the pause, the exhalation, the pause before the next inhalation, the pause, the exhalation, the pause before the next inhalation, and so on, repeating the cycle. One can also change the rate and tempo of these, prolonging the exhalation in a constant slow process, holding the breath after the inhalation. Remarkably, such simple breathing techniques alter the nature of one's awareness, in part by becoming the simple focus of awareness, bringing it to a nondistracted point and quieting other thoughts. In part, also, the changes in consciousness might be immediate physiological results of alterations in mode of breathing. Yet, there also are the changes wrought by the fact that it is breathing that the attention is focused upon. Breathing, like eating, is a direct connection with the external world, a bringing it inside oneself. It involves immediate changes in the body, including large changes in the size of one's chest cavity and belly. Perceiving one's physical being as a bellows, breathing the air in and out, enlarging and contracting in reciprocal relation to the outside space, being a container of space within a larger space, sometimes unable to distinguish between the held-in breath and the held-out breath until you see what happens next- all this makes one feel less enclosed within distinct boundaries as a separate entity. Breathing the world, even sometimes feeling one is being breathed by it, can be a profound experience of nonseparation from the res of existence. Within meditative breathing, emotions too can be brought more easily under control and evaluation- they do not simply wash over one to produce unmediated effects.
Moreover, a prolonged attention to breathing, as in meditative practice that "follows the breath," following the rising and falling of the chest and diaphragm, can develop the attention so that it becomes supple and concentrated, not subject to wandering, able to be maintained indefinitely on an object, and this attentiveness to breathing can be interwoven within daily activities too, thereby sharpening the nature of the attention to everything falling within the interstices of the noticed breathing. One can place external things or emotions, if fearful or stressful, within the calm and calming latticework of this attentive breathing, and within this attended-to structure too, subtler bodily rhythms become apparent which in turn can be attended to and followed, forming yet another lattice from which one can be suspended to delve deeper still.
To carry on our eating and breathing in this intense meditative fashion most of the time would insufficiently recognize the relaxed and easy naturalness these activities can have, but it seems important to do so sometimes at least and to carry with us the lessons we have learned thereby, returning on occasion to reconfirm these lessons or to learn new ones.
Attention also can be focused upon other things, inner or outer. The sun can be experienced as a direct source of light and warmth for oneself, and (aided by one's other knowledge) as the major energy source for all life processes here on earth. One's own body and its movement can also be focused upon attentively.
The most ordinary objects yield surprises to attentive awareness. Chairs, tables, cars, houses, torn papers, strewn objects, all stand in their place, waiting, patiently. An object that is displaced or awkwardly placed on purpose is no less a patient waiter. It is as though being an entity, any kind of entity, has its own salient quality, and we can become aware of something's entityhood, its sheer beingness. Everything is right exactly as it is, yet everything also is poised expectantly. Is some grand event being awaited, is there something we are to do besides simply knowing entities? (Are these dignified objects waiting there to be loved?)
Still, to linger on these matters and describe these details may seem "too precious." It would be a shame, though, to pass through one's life oblivious to what life and the world contains and reveals- like someone walking through rooms where wondrous music is playing, deaf to all. Perhaps, after all, there is a reason why we have bodies.
Holiness is to stand in a special and close relation to the divine. To respond to holy things as holy may place us, too, in a more special relation to them. Seeing everyday life as holy is in part seeing the world and its contents as infinitely receptive to our activities of exploring, responding, relating and crating, as an arena that would richly repay these activities no matter how far they are taken, whether by an individual or by all of humanity together throughout its time.