Dan Tien, Muck, and the Ability to Breathe and Sleep Like a Baby

First, a brief lesson about yet another wonder of your body that you might not even know about, courtesy of Yogapedia (https://www.yogapedia.com/definition/10361/dan-tien):

Dan tien roughly translates as “energy center” or “sea of qi,” where qi is the life force energy. They are areas of the body that are the focus of spiritual energy. Dan tien are an important concept in Taoism and Chinese medicine, and also feature in practices such as qigong, reiki and martial arts. Descriptions in literature of the dan tien date back to the 3rd century C.E.

Many meditative, spiritual and physical practices guide the yogi to focus on the dan tien. To act in a way guided by the dan tien is associated with higher levels of awareness, or samadhi.

There are three dan tiens in the human body — the lower, middle and upper — and all have different fields of influence. Each dan tien is also the focal point for the transmutation of one of the energies jing, qi and shen, also known as the “three treasures.”

• Lower — this is located two inches below the navel. It is the source of jing, essential energy that creates the physical body and enables us to make and use qi and shen.

• Middle — this resides at the heart. Its energy is qi, which is created from food and air and relates to our thoughts and feelings.

• Upper — this is located just above the eyebrows and is the center of shen, which is related to the spirit or consciousness.

If a reference is made simply to “the dan tien,” it is most likely referring to the lower dan tien, as this is the original source of energy. It is particularly important because the other dan tiens and other energy points of the body cannot be felt until energy is built in the lower dan tien. The lower dan tien is often used as a focal point for breathing exercises and meditation, and is considered by many to be the center of power for the body.

The dan tien differ from the yogic concept of chakras as points of energy, or prana, because unlike chakras which are considered energetic vortices, the dan tien hold and store energy. Some regard the dan tien and the chakras as distinct, but potentially cooperative energy mechanisms.

Dear Reader, the reason I’m talking to you about this is because I played with my lower dan tien this morning with my teacher Kent Bond, and I feel so much hope and joy. I want to share with you what I learned so you can feel the same way, if you want.

The funny thing about the dan tien is that it’s located within the place we often hate most on our bodies, the space between our navel and our pelvic floor—the place we often think is supposed to be taut, like an ironing board, but that is generally more like a big loaf of bread or a food pregnancy. The place, then, that we most often refuse to look at, refuse to touch, the place we pray our lover never touches, that place is like a desecrated palace. We turn our back on our own kingdom when we hate our bellies.

What happens when we do this?

Well, I can tell you what happened when I did this—I felt like I was going to have a heart attack, and here’s why: my lower abdomen was created to hold the fire of my being. It’s the furnace of me—it’s what burns up what isn’t needed and incorporates what is needed into my being. It’s my powerhouse—and yours. If you gently press your thumb into your navel and sink down into your guts, and if you imagine a line of energy coming up from the center of your pelvic floor—that spot inside of you, that dark marker, is your center. That’s your dan tien.

Can you imagine it?

I sure couldn’t. When I tried to picture that space inside of me what I saw was…nothing. Not even darkness. Just nothing. That means my brain and my body needed to get reacquainted with each other. I had some waking up to do because, in fact, that space is not nothing. It is the center of me, and if I couldn’t even begin to imagine it, how was I going to fully access my own strength?

Kent told me a story. I don’t know if it’s true, but I love it so much that the love alone is enough to make it true for me. He told me (I hope I’m retelling this accurately, but in a way it doesn’t even matter because it’s the final image that matters, not the details of the story so much.) He told me about a group of monks who meditate, focusing on their lower dan tien. He told me that later, when the monks died, upon dissection (okay, I don’t know why all these monks were getting dissected, but whatever) crystals that had shaped into pearls were found in the area of the dan tien.

What if we are oysters, creating pearls with the power of intentionally focusing on our seat of power with our breath?

Who cares if this is even true?! It’s so beautiful! It’s a reason to breathe deeply, letting your breathe expand the deepest parts of you, creating pearls out of your willingness to live big.

So this is where I’ll teach you one of the exercises that Kent taught me today.

It’s so simple!!

But, good lord, if the feeling this exercise created in me was a food, I would have put myself into it face first, gobbling it up like a person dying of hunger.

Here’s what you do: if you’re a yoga person, get your block and your bolster. If you’re not, get a book and a couple of pillows. Lie on the floor and put the bolster or pillows under your knees so your legs feel supported and you don’t have to expend any energy keeping them bent. Then put the block or your book on your abdomen so it lies between the bottom of your ribs and the tops of your hipbones.

Now breathe so the block or book lifts. Breathe through your nose, and hear the breath, lightly, a little like Darth Vader is in your throat. Inhale for, say, the count of six (or whatever feels good); hold the breath for a beat, then exhale for the count of six (or whatever number you chose for the inhale). Hold the exhale for a beat.

Retreat that four-part breath until you are in heaven, and then stay there for a while and enjoy the ride.

I was used to breathing up higher in my body—and clavicular breathing—the kind that comes from the chest, activates the sympathetic nervous system—fight or flight. Breathing from the abdomen, on the other hand, stimulates the parasympathetic nervous system—rest and digest.

What I found, or what I felt, as I breathed and felt the block go slowly up, pause, and then slowly go back down, and pause, is that the lower part of me, the part between my navel and my pelvic floor, felt like it was full of gunk. It was like I was a bucket of water that had been sitting outside for so many years that silt and debris and accumulated in the bottom, creating a layer of filth.

Part of me did not want to breathe into this stuff! Part of me wanted to stay on the surface, breathing lightly, barely leaving a footprint on the world. Who cared if I was always sort of stressed out! I didn’t have to deal with whatever shit was in my lower self.

But at the same time, this marvelous peace was coming over me as I breathed the block up and down. I felt like church music, like a clear breeze. I yawned. My stomach growled—two signs that the parasympathetic system was engaged. I wanted to lie on the floor and breathe like that forever. I felt like I was feeding myself a meal of golden light.

I realized something. Suddenly, my abdomen had so much more space for feelings to travel! Before, there was some sort of line under my bottom ribs (my diaphragm?) that was the cut-off for…feelings, life. No wonder my heart had felt so much pressure! Everything was happening in my upper rib cavity! But when I breathed in this more expansive way, there was more room for fury, confusion, grief, and these feelings felt more manageable as they became diluted into space and breath.

The more I breathed, the more I noticed that all these tight feelings that, up in my chest, had felt like fury and fear, when I let them into my dan tien, become pure power.

What if anger and grief are trapped power? What if breathing into the dan tien, breathing into the fullness of you, makes you a superhero?

I, for one, think it does.

I also think I’m going to sleep like a baby tonight.

I might even jump the gun and take a nap so I can remember what letting go truly feels like.