by Eyren Powell
Editor’s note: As part of monthly homework assignments, students are asked to share class reflections. This post is taken from Eyren’s reflection of a Year One class on the respiratory system led by core faculty member, Sam Perry.
We flipped through photos of the lungs and landed on cross-sections of our conchae, or turbinates, AKA the inside of our nose. My brain felt like it flipped over when Sam mentioned our nose isn’t this protruding thing, but it’s actually inside our face. Air moves in a spiral through the nasal conchae. The conchae are three bony projections in the nasal cavity covered with a mucous membrane. They cause air to circulate, optimizing the contact with our mucous membranes, warming, humidifying, and filtering the air we breathe.
This class on the respiratory system made me so grateful for my own lungs, which feels like a funny thing to say. We spoke about different ways to practice breathwork when in the classroom, then we decided to go outside and huddle under the juniper tree (Juniperus communis). Two years for one of these berries to form, I thought to myself. And then we began to practice what Sam called “the forgiveness breath”...two inhalations in, deep, and one long breath out of our mouth, repeat. I found I was on the brink of tears, feeling these sensations of letting go of all the built-up carbon dioxide in my lungs. What a relief it was. I felt at peace.
The forgiveness breath...of course it’s called the breath of forgiveness. We learned that the very small separation between our lungs and our blood is a subtle boundary of just two layers of membrane. Engaging with the lungs can be a lesson in practicing boundaries: this is mine or this is not mine. The grief isn't ours, we cry to let it move through us. At the juniper tree, I cried while forgiving what I might have judged as my own.
We then gathered in the middle of a snowy open field and each tried a lobelia tincture (Lobelia inflata). Three drops and I became so nauseous, I thought I might throw up on the snow. Why was I feeling like this? Once we went back inside I found out that lobelia allows us to let go of things that we are not meant to take on. My nervous system was telling me it needed gentle attention. I have been lead—experience after experience—to seeing just how much i need to let go. I am so grateful, once again for my lungs, and for the wisdom of juniper and lobelia.
Our olfactory nerves are right above our conchae; the nerves are directly connected to our brain. Scent is unique in this way. Our olfactory sense has a direct connection to the limbic system, which is the area in our brain that’s involved in emotions, memory, and behavior.
Previously in my life, emotions have served as a compass; it’s been the way I navigate. Maybe that’s why I’ve always prided my sense of smell over other senses. Or maybe it’s because I find smell to be an apt metaphor for spiritual concepts. Odors are ethereal; they cannot be grasped; they are elusive and yet are most certainly present. They are the bringers of emanating memory, but remain invisible. Odor feels close to God.
Eyren Powell is a second-year student at ArborVitae. You can find her on instagram @empyrealsubstance.