I inhale love for myself. I exhale criticism and all that does not serve my highest good.

The breath is the one automatic system that will take a suggestion. Heart rate, digestion, immune response — none of them are listening. Breathing slows down if you ask it to, and the rest of the body reads that as evidence the emergency has passed.

Which makes it a decent place to stand on a bad morning. Not because a long exhale solves anything, but because it interrupts the loop for long enough that a different thought can get in. Six slow breaths at the kitchen sink is a very small thing that reliably alters the next ten minutes.