Count breaths, not days: a breathing meditation with Rembrandt's spiral staircase

There's an old saying, repeated in many yoga classes: a yogi's life is measured not by the number of days, but by the number of breaths.

It's a lovely thought on a day that feels too full. You can't add hours to it. But you can make a few breaths slower, and notice them.

A room that breathes slowly

In 1632, a young Rembrandt (or, some scholars once argued, a painter close to him) painted a small room, now known as Philosopher in Meditation. Light falls through a tall window onto an old man sitting with folded hands. A wooden staircase winds up into darkness. In the corner, a woman tends the fire.

Rembrandt, Philosopher in Meditation, 1632. Musée du Louvre, Paris

The staircase is the thing to watch. It turns like a shell, like a slow exhale, and pulls your eye from the light into the shadow and back again.

First, find your spine

Before you look, sit down and try this. It's one of my favourite ways to begin.

1. Sway your spine gently forward and back, smaller and smaller, until you find the place where it stands upright on its own.
2. Imagine a thread at the crown of your head, lifting you upwards. Enjoy the small stretch in response.
3. Feel the floor, or the chair, pushing you up.
4. Notice the air on your skin, and the sounds around you.

The practice: ten breaths, one staircase

1. Open your eyes and find the window. Breathe in there.
2. As you breathe out, let your eyes climb the staircase, one turn at a time.
3. Breathe in at the top, where it disappears into shadow.
4. Breathe out as your gaze comes back down, to the old man's folded hands.
5. Repeat, counting each full breath. Ten is enough.
6. If you lose count, smile, and start again at one. Losing count is part of the practice.

Afterwards, close your eyes and sit in silence for a moment. Notice where you feel the breath most: the nose, the chest, the belly.

For other ways in, try the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding exercise with a painting or these paintings to slow your breathing.

A practice that arrives by post

"(letters) On Art" brings a letter and a postcard every month, and each season the printed issue of "(meditating) On Art". Each one ends, like this practice, in a moment of silence.

Remember to take as much time as you need, and meet me at the next one.

Love, Evi