I Hate Being Cold
I hate being cold.
I have several memories of being cold.
I can remember moments when I could not get warm.
One was in 1996. It was February, and I was really cold.
I was on a mission trip to Guatemala. I had lost my luggage
and with only a few borrowed items and not wanting to complain,
tossed and turned all night on a hard bench in a church.
I was cold, really cold, and I couldn’t get warm.
I felt trapped. There was no way to get warm.
I didn’t want to wake anyone up. I didn’t know what to do.
I longed for a sweatshirt, a hat, or gloves.
What I was wearing did not serve me well.
I should have found a way to challenge my mind and shut out the cold.
I could have visualized, I could have done a meditation
I am not sure why I enabled myself to be a victim of the cold.
I do it today. I allow myself to be a prisoner of my mind.
I could change my perception of the cold.
For now, I just want to be warm. And, I am okay with that.
