INSPIRATION—EXPIRATION
The entire mechanism of our being, more especially that of our faculties and functions, is primarily excited through openings into which air is inspired, from which air is expired. These openings are connected with channels and vessels which are passive or negative during inspiration; active or positive during expiration. Thus the multiform streams of air introduced into our system communicate with parts thereof, which, by their construction and intercommunication with others, are specially adapted for the exercise of any special faculty or function. Our will directs these streams of air to flow into their proper channels (and they automatically obey) for the guidance of our steps in a certain direction, for the production of a given sound, the recognition of a given sight, the sensation of a peculiar odor, taste, or feeling, or the excitation of a passion, a compassion, or any other sensation, feeling, or thought whatsoever. These streams of air, therefore, are of an order as multiform as the complex web of our material and spiritual existence, and are introduced through thousands of different channels and in thousands of different ways.
To confine our mode of physical and spiritual existence to a single stream of air introduced into the oral cavity, or the nostrils, and thence into the lungs, appears to me to be as primitive a proceeding and as narrow a view as can possibly be taken of one of the greatest subjects our understanding is called upon to deal with. In place of that, I have positive proof that the streams of air which flow into these openings are of the most multiform nature; every sight, odor, taste, touch, and every sound, and fraction of a sound even, calling for a special stream of air which no other stream can furnish or supply. Besides the oral cavity and the nostrils, the eyes, ears, and every additional opening, down to an almost invisible pore or capillary vessel, are recipients of special streams intended for special purposes. We breathe through the soles of our feet and the palms of our hands, as well as through the skull of our heads. The closer we guard our body against the influence of the air, by means of unnaturally close-woven and air-tight clothing, the less capable we become of exercising our natural faculties and functions.
To this subject I shall devote time and attention at some future period, more especially in connection with vocal utterance, as it has everything to do with the production of sounds, which proceed in part from within, outwardly, and in part from without, inwardly. In so doing, positive becomes negative and negative positive; inspiration and expiration equalize each other, and thus a continuous flow of speech becomes possible, while if the flow were continuously in one and the same direction it would soon come to an absolute stop.
It is this that science has done for us: It has clogged up all these natural avenues to our existence by teaching that we breathe through the trachea alone, in consequence of the muscle of the diaphragm forming an air-tight partition between the upper and lower compartments of our bodies; being ignorant of the fact of that other great tube of the œsophagus, also opening into the oral cavity, performing the same functions for the abdomen which the trachea does for the thorax. In place of all these millions of openings through which we inspire and expire, science teaches that we breathe through a single tube, into and out of an air-tight sack,—a mechanically impossible proceeding. By some ill-defined process, air is supposed to find its way into the thorax and out again after depositing its oxygen in the blood-vessels. Meanwhile, the balance of our body is left to shift for itself, not the slightest particle of fresh food ever finding its way into any portion thereof, except indirectly through the blood-vessels. To my simple and untaught understanding it appears that if such a state of affairs really existed—no matter how rapid the circulation of the blood—the entire hemisphere of the abdomen would be given over to putrefaction in an exceedingly short space of time.
Breathing, however, as we do, through the œsophagus, in like measure with the trachea, and through every other opening in our epidermis in addition, our body is constantly, uninterruptedly, permeated with fresh air in its every avenue, vessel, capillary tube, cell, etc., which sustains us by its life-giving qualities, and takes away with it the constantly accumulating refuse.
The muscle of the diaphragm has been the air-tight door to the cell of the condemned, whose portal has been guarded by ignorance and every oppression, suppression, fear, superstition, anxiety, bigotry, narrowness, prejudice, etc., that the human mind is capable of. It has given us over to self-accusation as a natural and vital element. It has shut us up into the narrowest limits, and kept us from communing with the universe and the spirit of the universe. It has excluded from us the grace, the beauty, the light, the liberty, the eternity of the spirit, and prevented us from recognizing ourselves as integral parts of the universe and of the causes which sustain it and sustain us. It has prevented us from communing with them as free agents in our own name and by our own right, without interference or the intercession of any person or agency whatsoever, in the past or the present.
Have I placed too great a value on the discovery of the "voice of the œsophagus"?
I feel convinced that the further exposition of my observations will justify me in all I have said.