Shayan Afzal

At times, I find myself questioning if I’ve forgotten the art of breathing. There I was, laying before my open window on a summer night, the gentle rain cascading from the heavens, and I inhaled deeply, my gaze fixed upon the vast expanse of the sky. In that moment, it was as if I had rediscovered the essence of existence itself, the pure act of drawing breath.

Have you ever taken a breath so profound that it seemed to transcend the ordinary, to reach into the very core of your being, and instill an unparalleled calm? This simple, yet profound act, requires an unwavering focus on the rhythm of inhalation and exhalation. I once mingled with those who immersed themselves in the philosophies of yoga, fervent devotees to the practice of conscious breathing. In their quiet discipline, there is perhaps a great truth, a hidden wisdom.

The sky, oh, the sky! It holds an enigmatic beauty, ever-changing, ever vast, and boundless in its magnificence. It captivates the soul, stirring within us a sense of awe and wonder. There is something profoundly meditative about the sky’s infinite variations, especially under the cloak of night, when the rain falls gently upon the earth. In those moments, the sky reveals its true grandeur, a spectacle of serene beauty that touches the deepest parts of our spirit.

To stand beneath such a sky, to allow oneself to be enveloped by its splendor, is to experience a rare and exquisite form of peace. It beckons us to linger, to gaze longer, to surrender to its tranquil embrace. This, I realize, is something I must do more often, for in the contemplation of the night sky, especially when it is adorned with the gentle caress of rain, I find a beauty so profound, so ineffably touching, that it stirs my soul to its very core.