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Photo by Alex on Unsplash

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.

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