An ancient wind instrument allows for better respiratory function

A restful Saturday evening begins today with 15 minutes of playing the didgeridoo. Time on the Aboriginal wind-instrument of northern Australia has been a personal practice for nearly a decade, but just a moment ago was my first blowing session in over a week.

Weekly tasks, a current respiratory sickness, fatigue, and the ensuing lack of motivation has kept me from the task which I know to be beneficial. After reading several years ago on the therapeutic potential to treat Obstructive Sleep Apnea (OSA) and the ability to strengthen the lungs through the resistance created by back-flow, I decided didgeridoo playing should be added to my routine.

Since first beginning the practice of blowing through the wooden cylinder, I have seen remarkable health benefits. While still facing a consequences of the progressive neuro-degenerative disease called Friedreich’s Ataxia (FA), the edge is moved back just a little and gives more space.  My respiratory muscles are stronger, and I can breathe day and night with more ease. And for what it’s worth, I can imagine my body being trained to better utilize oxygen.

But there is also something uniquely human that prevents the didgeridoo from becoming a consistent daily habit. There are doubts about the true effectiveness of the practice. Could any perceived benefit be more accurately attributed to something else? I’ll get tired and decide to take the evening off from the wooden blowing tube. In immediate consideration, I might feel pretty good without playing. One evening slowly becomes a week.

Alas an extended time of high physical stress and resulting fatigue will return me to the practice I become convinced should never have been stopped in the first place. It is the lifecycle that has prevailed.

So I begin again. My technique is a simple one: no circular breathing, for I doubt my ability to develop the skill and fear to be wasting time trying. Rather I sit up so my lungs are elongated and clear for breathing deeply, breathing and expanding my lungs to the limit of what’s possible. And upon breathing out, I use proper technique as I make rhythmic variations of sound with the slight movement of lips and mouth. Every bit of volume of air needs to be fully used so the lungs are completely empty and all my respiratory muscles contracted to the full extent.

Instead of wasting breath recovering, I do it again and let the next deep breathe also be the recovery breath. Doing so allows a simple way to push the limits. There is also time to reflect on my day, to consider my path forward for the week, and imagine what mixture will achieve the right colors I am after in my next painting. I can even save time by rehearsing the next days work in my mind.

And finally, I have to accept the fact that I always don’t know what is best but still have to act on what I do know. God has given me a mind to think critically; he is gracious and providentially cares for my daily needs. In his mercy, I am sustained despite myself and our fallen world. Therefore I have great confidence to act.