How, then, shall the necessary space be created for this air which we must have at each breath? Shall the cover of this cone be moved? or shall the cone itself be moved? What does nature itself teach in answer to these questions?
Let us take the first question first: Shall the cover be raised in order to give the cone, the lungs, the required space in which to expand, and thus receive the 230 cubic inches of air required?
The cover of this cone is that part of the chest from the tip of the breast-bone upward. In other words, it is that part of the chest which is formed of the strongest and heaviest ribs, strongly braced, both front and rear, by the back-bone and the breast-bone, and therefore is the most rigid part of the whole structure.
Now to look at this structure, does it appear as if it were made to be either raised or expanded so as to create 230 cubic inches of space twenty times a minute? Everybody can see that the only possible answer is a decided and emphatic "No." It is true, as we shall see later, that there is a slight movement of these ribs upward at the outward ends; but it is so very slight, when compared with the amount of space which must be created, that it is practically nothing.
But even though the chest--the cover of this cone--could be raised sufficiently to form the required space, it would have to be done by drawing the air into the lungs; and by this means, with the lung-fiber as a lever, lifting the chest. This would bring all the pressure upon the lungs, and would require that they do all the lifting. It would practically make the lungs perform the function of a force-pump, with which to lift a weight. But the lungs are not a force-pump, and cannot be made to perform the function of a force-pump without destroying them, and so destroying life itself.
The lungs are not muscular tissue at all. They are neither muscle nor flesh, but a sort of spongy texture containing air-cells, with only enough of tissue to hold these cells together, and give place for the necessary arteries and veins to keep them alive, the whole forming a texture almost as elastic as rubber and as light as sponge.
The air-cells contained in the lungs of an average man are so numerous that, if spread out flat, they would cover a space of two thousand square feet, equal to a floor or ceiling fifty by forty feet in size. Yet think, all this two thousand square feet of air-surface is contained in the lungs, which occupy so little space as to be held in that part of the chest from the fifth rib, or point of the chest-bone, upward, in a medium-sized man.
A single glance at these facts is enough to convince anybody forever that the lungs, not being composed of muscular tissue, are totally incapable of performing any work for themselves; and that therefore no process of breathing or speaking which causes the lungs to do any work in lifting or expanding the chest, can possibly be right.
From these facts it is clear that the chest and shoulders were never created thus to be raised; that the lungs were never created for any such purpose as the raising of them; and that to make any such use of the lungs is a violation of nature's law, which is the law of God. Therefore, "does not even nature itself teach" that all breathing that requires the lifting of the chest is certainly wrong breathing?
It will be well to note the danger that is caused by this perversion of nature's intent in the use of the lungs.
The surface of the air-cells in the lungs is a membrane so thin and delicate that when the blood is thrown against the inside of it, and the air strikes the outside of it, the life-property of the air passes through into the blood; yet the blood cannot pass through to the outside. God has made it so.
Now it is a principle in nature that when any unusual exertion is required of any organ, nature begins at once to supply whatever is needed, that the organ may perform the extra labor, or meet the extra demand, without injury. When any part is injured, nature seeks at once to repair the injury. This is done only by sending to that place an increased supply of blood, carrying in its corpuscles building material with which to strengthen the organ for the increased exertion, or to repair the injury done. It is a fact that nature will, against continued abuses, thus fairly work miracles to keep men alive; and it is a sad fact that she is compelled to do this nearly all the time with multitudes of people.
But it is impossible for nature, with safety, to strengthen the lungs to perform the unusual labor that is put upon them by this wrong way of breathing, which tries to lift, or expand, the chest. She tries to do it, but cannot; for the very effort which she makes to remedy the evil is itself an injury.
Let us examine this. When this unusual exertion, this work which was never intended, is put upon the lungs, of course they are unprepared for it. Nature is compelled at once to strengthen them for it in the only way possible; that is, by sending an increased supply of blood into the lungs.
But if this blood is to strengthen the lungs, it can do it only by making the tissue itself stronger. And this must inevitably make thicker that delicate membrane which is the surface of all the air-cells. But as certainly as this is made thicker, the vitalizing property of the air will not as readily pass through into the blood.
Thus not enough breath can be taken to keep the blood pure; the blood, therefore, being deprived of this vitalizing property, becomes sluggish, and grows more and more impure. This conduces to ill health, breeds disease, and brings death.
But the lungs cannot in all cases endure this process, particularly in those who have much talking or public speaking to do. In many cases this delicate membrane of the air-cells becomes distended by the increased supply of blood. When so distended, it is easily ruptured; and then, instead of the vitalizing property of the air passing through into the blood, the blood itself passes through into the air; there is bleeding at the lungs, and this means death.
It is plain, therefore, that whatever nature may do in her efforts to build against the abuse of the lungs, it means only death,--not death on the instant, of course, nor in a day, nor in a week; but it means death just the same, sooner or later, and that long before nature's proper time. As the Testimony expresses it, it is "slowly committing suicide."[1]
It is certain, then, that "nature itself" teaches, in positive tones, that any practice of breathing in which the chest must be lifted and lowered, or that brings pressure upon the lungs to lift and lower the chest, is positively, and even dangerously, wrong breathing.--Advent Review, February 1, 1898.
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