Slowly and slowly.

I've been lucky to study breathing techniques – pranayama – with, who I believe, is one of the nation's best teachers. Even more than taking her intermediate-level workshops, I love sitting in on her beginner workshops. The questions are honest, open, philosophical. Broad.

"How do I build up a pranayama practice?" her students always ask, all eagerness. "How do I get where you are?"

"Slowly and slowly," she answers...slowly, of course. Each word drawn out. Each syllable carefully annunciated.

The simplicity of this wisdom – of the way she says it, the corners of her lips edging up – always makes for more smiles. (And a few good-natured eye rolls.) 

There's no better moment, though, to scan the room. To watch the students. To see them process her advice. So far, the reaction has always been the same.

Because "slowly and slowly" doesn't follow our society's aggressive need to advance, here and now, the students' chests and shoulders inevitably lift with a deep inhale, exasperated. What follows is an exhale – let out with a whoosh and a sigh of acceptance.

And I smile at the irony, because there it is, in that single controlled breath: pranayama. They've begun their practice in an instant, a second. 

"Quickly and quickly," I say to myself.

That said, our pranayama teacher is right. Slowly and slowly is the best way progress – to move through yoga, breath and...yes, life. We should be aware. Mindful. Present. We should advance our studies, physical practice and pranayama piece by piece, without elbowing our way forward and threatening our physical, emotional and spiritual health.  

Quickly and quickly, though, is the way to begin. Pranayama. Yoga. Anything. Whenever something is new, looming or anxiety-inducing, starting should happen somewhat fast...or time slips by and we might not act at all.

Two weeks ago, I was chatting with a yoga teacher training student in the studio lobby. He's also a brilliant grad student, and I asked him about his doctoral thesis. 

"It's going," he tells me. "Slowly and slowly, right?"

I laugh, because, clearly, we all adore and carry this little wisdom.

"Slowly and slowly," I echo. Aware. Mindful. Present. 

"I've had writer's block lately, though," he confides. "You're a writer too, right? What do you do to get past it?"

My nose crinkles. "Uggh...writer's block. Sucks." We stand there nodding for a minute, commiserating.

I think for a moment and say the only thing that ever works, despite all the advice out there. "I guess...the only thing to do is...start writing," I tell him. "Don't cling to whether it's good or bad. Just...begin."

"Quickly and quickly," I add, laughing again.

Slowly and slowly...that comes later.