Breath as Prayer: Returning to the Temple Within
For those who have begun to remember
Before there were temples, there was the breath. Before there were books, there was stillness. Before the names of gods were carved into stone, the divine whispered in the inhale… and surrendered in the exhale.
We have not been separated from the Source. We’ve only forgotten where to look.
Meditation is not escape. It is return. A return to the still point within—where the body, mind, and spirit become one. A return to the sacred chamber that no church can hold. When you sit with your breath, you enter into communion—not with an idea of God, but with the essence of all things.
The breath is the first teacher. It asks nothing but your attention. It demands no scripture, no posture, no perfection. It is always with you, from the moment you arrive until the moment you depart.
And yet we overlook it.
We chase answers. We reach for distractions. We kneel before idols made by man, forgetting that we are the altar. Our breath is the incense. Our stillness is the sanctuary.
To meditate is to listen. To breathe is to pray without words. Not begging, not bargaining—just being. And in that being, we remember the truth:
You are not apart from the divine. You are the divine, remembering itself.
So sit. Not to achieve, but to return. Not to escape, but to see clearly. Not to prove your worth, but to witness that you have never been unworthy.
This is communion. This is worship. This is remembrance.
And it is available to all, in every breath.