As we travel through the winter, on a two wheeler, I am consumed by a new thought spiral. Our perception of cold is cloudy, to say the least. What we associate with the perception of cold is actually our reaction to it. When I say, "I am feeling cold," I am not responding to the warmth being sucked out of me. I am responding to the little shivers it sends down my back. I am responding to my chattering teeth, shivering body, rattling jaw.

So I take a deep breath. I let it out. Slowly. I will the shivers to stop. They refuse to. It takes a few breaths, a few moments, a few turns around the winding lanes that are my neighborhood. I ease my grip on my brother's shoulder as the response to cold recedes.
And then, for the first time in my life, I really, truly, feel– cold. Unclouded, unblanketed by my body's own response and processes, I let the icy fingers of the wind drag the heat from my skin.
It is as you would feel if you place an ice cube on your skin, just not as extreme and much more widespread. An ice cube isn't 'universal' enough to get a shivering response from the body, but it certainly is more than cold enough.

As we move on to a main road, I feel the wind snagging in the little folds between my skin cells and latching onto the little heat that they give. I feel it feeling me, every inch, every nook and cranny that it can get to. The caress is cool and comforting, surprisingly light and gentle– the touch of a lover. The absolute chill gives me a thrill I long for when unmoving.

The feeling is barely describable. So the next time you get the opportunity, do try out feeling the cold. Without the chills. Or the shivering. Or the chattering. It's something you aren't likely to forget.



Thanks for reading
XOXO
An

#Cold

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