Miracles. Having the wind knocked out of you and then beginning to breathe again, strongly huffing and puffing, no asthmatic whiffs.
Lungs firmly and regularly sucking in air with a mantra saying one of G-d's fifty names, exhausting outwards a blown gust, getting rid of evil and wickedness as you blow out your breath of air.
Inhaling goodness, breathing out badness. Lungs expanding thickly like balloons, nostrils gaping widely snorting as the air goes into them and goes out again.
Legs regaining strength leaping like a deer in meadows, on sidewalks, up mountainsides, down canyons, feet painlessly gripping the pavement curling in your toes and commanding long strides, eyes wide open to see rainbows and sunsets and twinkling nighttime stars.
Always having a chair or couch in which to collapse, to rest. Beds welcoming as soft as feathers, blankets warmly tucked under your chin, furry and comfy, puffy pillows easy on the head, soft regular breathing sweetly at night, not snoring, with deep breaths taking in vivid colorful meaningful nighttime dreams, like movies that busy your consciousness, batting the eyes, closing them painlessly, drifting off safely into serious sedated sleep.
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