Monday 20th March
I have a different relationship to the cold than my younger self.
Age brings so much more than just clarity alone!
Walking along the brisk and breezy wavy water of Whitstable.
With my sister.
Young hungry seagulls cried out,
Their mothers bickering over the spoils like fish wives on the dock.
Hunched over, shoulders facing down and arms crossed in front, curved in.
She asked “Are you cold?"
I thought for a moment.
I straightened up.
I loosened my crossed arms.
"No, I am not".
This resistance to the sensation of brisk wind is a resistance to life.
Habitual patterns of thought manifesting in my physical form.
I am not cold! .
I have learned to make a friend of the elements.
Of the temporary stress of breath holds and cold showers.
Keeping warm is simply mind over matter. Of neuroplacity.
It's not magic but an acceptance of what is verses what is not.
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