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James Nestor - Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art

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James Nestor Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art
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Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art: summary, description and annotation

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No matter what you eat, how much you exercise, how skinny or young or wise you are, none of it matters if youre not breathing properly. There is nothing more essential to our health and well-being than breathing: take air in, let it out, repeat 25,000 times a day. Yet, as a species, humans have lost the ability to breathe correctly, with grave consequences. Journalist James Nestor travels the world to figure out what went wrong and how to fix it. The answers arent found in pulmonology labs, as we might expect, but in the muddy digs of ancient burial sites, secret Soviet facilities, New Jersey choir schools, and the smoggy streets of So Paulo. Nestor tracks down men and women exploring the hidden science behind ancient breathing practices like Pranayama, Sudarshan Kriya, and Tummo and teams up with pulmonary tinkerers to scientifically test long-held beliefs about how we breathe. Modern research is showing us that making even slight adjustments to the way we inhale and exhale can jump-start athletic performance; rejuvenate internal organs; halt snoring, asthma, and autoimmune disease; and even straighten scoliotic spines. None of this should be possible, and yet it is. Drawing on thousands of years of medical texts and recent cutting-edge studies in pulmonology, psychology, biochemistry, and human physiology, Breath turns the conventional wisdom of what we thought we knew about our most basic biological function on its head. You will never breathe the same again.

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Also by James Nestor Deep Freediving Renegade Science and What the Ocean - photo 1
Also by James Nestor

Deep: Freediving, Renegade Science, and What the Ocean Tells Us about Ourselves

RIVERHEAD BOOKS An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC penguinrandomhousecom - photo 2

RIVERHEAD BOOKS An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC penguinrandomhousecom - photo 3

RIVERHEAD BOOKS

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

penguinrandomhouse.com

Copyright 2020 by James Nestor Penguin supports copyright Copyright fuels - photo 4

Copyright 2020 by James Nestor

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

Riverhead and the R colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Nestor, James, author.

Title: Breath : the new science of a lost art / James Nestor.

Description: New York : Riverhead Books, 2020. | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2019050863 (print) | LCCN 2019050864 (ebook) | ISBN 9780735213616 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780735213630 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Breathing exercises. | Respiration.

Classification: LCC RA782 .N47 2020 (print) | LCC RA782 (ebook) | DDC 613/.192dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019050863

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019050864

Neither the publisher nor the author is engaged in rendering professional advice or services to the individual reader. The ideas, procedures, and suggestions contained in this book are not intended as a substitute for consulting with your physician. All matters regarding your health require medical supervision. Neither the author nor the publisher shall be liable or responsible for any loss or damage allegedly arising from any information or suggestion in this book.

While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers, internet addresses, and other contact information at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Cover design: Grace Han and Lauren Peters-Collaer

Cover image: MilletStudio / Shutterstock

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To K.S.

In transporting the breath, the inhalation must be full. When it is full, it has big capacity. When it has big capacity, it can be extended. When it is extended, it can penetrate downward. When it penetrates downward, it will become calmly settled. When it is calmly settled, it will be strong and firm. When it is strong and firm, it will germinate. When it germinates, it will grow. When it grows, it will retreat upward. When it retreats upward, it will reach the top of the head. The secret power of Providence moves above. The secret power of the Earth moves below.

He who follows this will live. He who acts against this will die.

500 BCE ZHOU DYNASTY STONE INSCRIPTION

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION The place looked like something out of Amityville all - photo 5

INTRODUCTION

The place looked like something out of Amityville all paint-chipped walls - photo 6

The place looked like something out of Amityville: all paint-chipped walls, dusty windows, and menacing shadows cast by moonlight. I walked through a gate, up a flight of creaking steps, and knocked on the door.

When it swung open, a woman in her 30s with woolly eyebrows and oversize white teeth welcomed me inside. She asked me to take off my shoes, then led me to a cavernous living room, its ceiling painted sky blue with wispy clouds. I took a seat beside a window that rattled in the breeze and watched through jaundiced streetlight as others walked in. A guy with prisoner eyes. A stern-faced man with Jerry Lewis bangs. A blond woman with an off-center bindi on her forehead. Through the rustle of shuffling feet and whispered hellos, a truck rumbled down the street blasting Paper Planes, the inescapable anthem of the day. I removed my belt, loosened the top button on my jeans, and settled in.

Id come here on the recommendation of my doctor, whod told me, A breathing class could help. It could help strengthen my failing lungs, calm my frazzled mind, maybe give me perspective.

For the past few months, Id been going through a rough patch. My job was stressing me out and my 130-year-old house was falling apart. Id just recovered from pneumonia, which Id also had the year before and the year before that. I was spending most of my time at home wheezing, working, and eating three meals a day out of the same bowl while hunched over week-old newspapers on the couch. I was in a rutphysically, mentally, and otherwise. After a few months of living this way, I took my doctors advice and signed up for an introductory course in breathing to learn a technique called Sudarshan Kriya.

At 7:00 p.m., the bushy-browed woman locked the front door, sat in the middle of the group, inserted a cassette tape into a beat-up boom box, and pressed play. She told us to close our eyes. Through hissing static, the voice of a man with an Indian accent flowed from the speakers. It was squeaky, lilting, and too melodious to sound natural, as if it had been taken from a cartoon. The voice instructed us to inhale slowly through our noses, then to exhale slowly. To focus on our breath.

We repeated this process for a few minutes. I reached over to a pile of blankets and wrapped one around my legs to keep my stocking feet warm beneath the drafty window. I kept breathing but nothing happened. No calmness swept over me; no tension released from my tight muscles. Nothing.

Ten, maybe 20 minutes passed. I started getting annoyed and a bit resentful that Id chosen to spend my evening inhaling dusty air on the floor of an old Victorian. I opened my eyes and looked around. Everyone had the same somber, bored look. Prisoner Eyes appeared to be sleeping. Jerry Lewis looked like he was relieving himself. Bindi sat frozen with a Cheshire Cat smile on her face. I thought about getting up and leaving, but I didnt want to be rude. The session was free; the instructor wasnt paid to be here. I needed to respect her charity. So I closed my eyes again, wrapped the blanket a little tighter, and kept breathing.

Then something happened. I wasnt conscious of any transformation taking place. I never felt myself relax or the swarm of nagging thoughts leave my head. But it was as if Id been taken from one place and deposited somewhere else. It happened in an instant.

The tape came to an end and I opened my eyes. There was something wet on my head. I lifted my hand to wipe it off and noticed my hair was sopping. I ran my hand down my face, felt the sting of sweat in my eyes, and tasted salt. I looked down at my torso and noticed sweat blotches on my sweater and jeans. The temperature in the room was about 68 degreesmuch cooler beneath the drafty window. Everyone had been covered in jackets and hoodies to keep warm. But I had somehow sweated through my clothes as if Id just run a marathon.

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