Three Deep Breaths

Finding Power and Purpose in a Stressed-Out World

Thomas Crum

• Publisher: Berrett-Koehler Publishers
• Year: 2009
• Print ISBN:
  9781576756300
• eBook ISBN:
  9781609944490
• Topic: Personal Development
• Subtopic: Mental Health & Wellbeing

"An incredibly unique and effective approach to dealing with stress—if used correctly, it could add years to your life." —Stephen R. Covey,  New York Times-bestselling author
 
These days all of us lead hectic, stressful lives. And most of us react to difficult circumstances by struggling against them, which only creates more tension.  Three Deep Breaths provides a welcome alternative—a simple technique that you can use, no matter how busy you are, to transform tough situations into positive, energizing experiences. It is a mind/body technique that combines the "cognitive-restructuring" capability of the brain (the ability to change our attitudes and perceptions of the world) with the calmness and presence of an aligned, centered state of being.
 
Thomas Crum illustrates this radically simple technique through the story of Angus, who is struggling to break through the negative habits that lead to anger, exhaustion, and poor performance. We follow Angus as he learns to use the Three Deep Breaths to maintain clarity and purpose in the midst of seeming chaos, to redirect negative energy to more positive purposes. By working with our breath, by being aware of it and using it as a focusing tool, we can open up a whole new world of possibility.
 
"In Thomas Crum's wonderful story you may discover what you felt has been missing . . . until now." —Dr. Spencer Johnson, #1  New York Times-bestselling author of  Who Moved My Cheese?
 

The Third Breath

“Thanks for fixing the tires,” Angus called out as he pulled out of his service station and headed for home. The surprise autumn snow had started to fall an hour before and it was coming down heavily now.

The mechanic watched him drive away. “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen that guy without a frown. He actually talked to us!”

At the first centering light, Angus stared at the “Deep Breaths” card that he had taped to the dashboard. He took a deep Centering Breath. He felt a calmness surround him. Usually blizzard conditions like these would have made him tense and anxious. He let his awareness be open to “seeing” beyond his preoccupations. He just started observing the present moment, just as the old man had suggested. He was soon fascinated by the different shapes of the snowflakes as they hit the windshield. He noticed the patterns the wind made with the falling snow in the headlights. He listened to the sound of his tires driving through the snow, and the rhythm of the wipers.

At another stoplight, he glanced at himself in the rearview mirror. His attention went right to the “worry” wrinkle that Sierra had pointed out. Was it his imagination, or was his brow somewhat less furrowed than usual? He scanned his face and noticed that he naturally had a half-smile on his lips. It kind of took him by surprise. He deliberately frowned, and noticed how his eyes squinched together and the deep furrow returned. Then he breathed a deep breath, and smiled, and the furrow softened even more.

When I get “centered,” my body relaxes and I literally open up, Angus noticed. Even my face transforms.

His half-smile grew a little when he passed the tire sale sign that the old man had pointed out that morning. The word “Alignment” again stood out. Angus looked again at the Deep Breaths card he had taped on his dashboard and focused on the second breath, the Possibility Breath. An image of an aligned team flooded his consciousness: a joyful, talented, committed team. No frowns!

No way that’s happening with my team, Angus argued with himself. Our project is more like a battleground of fighting egos than a team.

Haven’t I been excruciatingly clear about what should happen? Haven’t all my wise ideas and solutions been met with resistance, no matter how hard I have worked on persuading the team otherwise? Wasn’t that the way it worked in any group— hammer at each other until someone emerged triumphant?

Angus relived the endless, nauseating meetings and his collisions with Robert.

“So,” Angus would begin, “Here’s what I would like to propose . . .”

And a few sentences into it, Robert would pipe up.

“But, Angus, that will never work because . . .”

Within minutes, the energy of the idea would be deflated into a series of debates about why it couldn’t work.

That’s when Angus realized something crucial. I haven’t been helping the situation. I’ve been setting up Robert as my adversary. I’d make my proposal, and Robert would counter it. But what did I do then? I’d seek my revenge: I’d manage a way to make him wrong—and his half-baked schemes, too.

Painfully Angus became aware of how he and Robert had set a precedent of a “me or you” attitude that had infiltrated the entire team, until no one was willing to be creative and supportive anymore. Angus and Robert had modeled and built a high-powered “yes, but” gang of individuals who could effectively kill any good idea. It was always a fight to be right.

When he approached the entrance to the highway, a road sign grabbed his attention. He let up on the gas at the YIELD sign, letting the other vehicles in. He realized he had never stopped to appreciate the sign’s hidden lesson. It was so obvious that it was almost trite.

Yield? Now there was a concept he had rarely considered, except as a traffic necessity. Yield to other vehicles, of course. If you don’t, you will have an accident. But yielding to others in the workplace or at home? He studied the sign.

Maybe I don’t let anyone in, he realized.

How many collisions have I gotten into with people because I didn’t yield? I always figured someone else was trying to be right, which meant I’d have to admit I was wrong. No way was I going to do that! But what about “yielding” to listen to another’s opinion, ideas, the need to contribute, with the actual possibility that I might be wrong? If a highway can handle all the vehicles, maybe our team, starting with me, can learn to honor one another’s input. We need to change the “yes, but” dogfight into a “yes, and” team.

So . . . how can I make that happen?

Angus thought about the different personalities on his team. They all had different strengths, different talents worth noting. Some were definite marketing types, for example, and some definitely engineering types. The marketing gang was always big with ideas, but the engineers were constantly deflating their ideas by pointing out their potential constraints, making the ideas infeasible.

Angus remembered the old man and their near-accident with the guy who had cut them off that morning. He realized that the engineering types were not a band of bad guys out to sabotage everything. They were sincerely there to help and yet their tendency as engineers was to focus on distinctions and differences. It made them excellent engineers and scientists, but they were often difficult in team meetings. In their minds, they were making sure that ideas were backed with the specific technology to pull them off. Yet, without a specific time and place to submit their considerations, they became like Scud missiles, blowing up any creative idea that came along.

Angus realized that by asking them to reserve their considerations for specific agenda items that he would add to the meetings, he would be acknowledging and capitalizing on what they did well. He would be able to turn idea-puncturing skeptics into vital quality-control experts, thereby keeping the brainstorming sessions alive.

Within a few miles, Angus noticed some orange cones lined up in the right lane far ahead of him. He felt that old instinct rising up in him, the need to gripe about another rush-hour delay. But instead of his normal rant, he used this as an opportunity for a Centering Breath. Within seconds he became aware of another road sign: MERGE.

Another lesson! Everywhere I look I find my master teacher in disguise. Talk about asking for a sign!

Without question, the solution appeared, and it suddenly seemed so simple, and so doable.

My people are so talented. Discovering what they do best and then merging these distinct talents—that’s my role—to serve them, not browbeat them into accepting my ideas.

Angus kept doing the Possibility Breathing, envisioning an aligned team, centered, creative, and energized. Over the next fifteen minutes, the particulars of a strategy to “yield” and “merge” began to flow in vivid detail.

Before Angus knew it, he had come to the busy intersection near his home, and as usual got “the red light from hell,” as he called it, because it was long enough to make you feel guilty and still have time to get out your wallet for the homeless guy. Now, as if to prove his point, there was a fender-bender in the intersection and all traffic was at a standstill. But Angus now welcomed this “centering light,” treasuring the opportunity to collect his thoughts. Time was no longer his opponent. He continued to let his mind flow, creating an environment for a real team to emerge.

Suddenly, Angus was riveted by the image in front of him. There was Eddy, the homeless guy who had always irritated him, who touched in Angus some dark-sided mixture of guilt and pain. Eddy worked his route from car to car, oblivious to the blinding snow and wind. Behind him, another yellow roadside sign on the curb read “SOFT SHOULDER.” These words, in juxtaposition with Angus’s hardened attitude regarding Eddy and his disenfranchised, marginalized sector of society (“Why don’t they get a job and quit draining the country’s resources?”) shot an arrow into Angus’s heart. His recognition of his own hard exterior, a self-imposed wall to avoid facing his own fear of failure, softly made its way to the surface, like a spring flower bursting out of rock and snow.

Angus squeezed into the lane where Eddy was working. The snow was falling in big, wet flakes. The car thermometer indicated it was a damp thirty degrees outside, and the wind was gaining force. Eddy was dressed in a beat-up cloth jacket and red hunter’s cap, no gloves, and his jeans and ragged tennis shoes couldn’t have offered much warmth. Yet he moved with his same deliberate pace, holding up his “I’m Eddy. Thank you for your help” sign, and carrying his large metal can. He didn’t approach people directly unless they first engaged him with a look or by rolling down a window.

Eddy came toward him, and Angus took in a very conscious breath, letting in his highest self. He breathed in the power to get beyond the “story” that held him back, the “get a job” one that was full of judgment and hostility. Then, he rolled down his window.

“Pretty cold out there! Don’...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Foreword
• Acknowledgments
• The Wrinkle
• The Lift
• The First Breath
• Centering
• A Master Teacher in Disguise
• The Second Breath
• Possibility
• The Third Breath
• The Mystery
• The Journal
• Practice, Practice, Practice
• Afterword
• About the Author