When I’m cold, my body stiffens from tip to toe. My lower back muscles squeeze spontaneously and repetitively. My jaw tightens, teeth clench. When I’m cold, there’s an inexplicable sense of urgency, a need to get places quick, a compulsion to perform tasks in a staccato. These behaviors are usually accompanied by a longing to retreat under fuzzy blankets and shut my eyes, a deep yearning for tropical escape.
I’m cold today. I was cold yesterday, too. I haven’t been bone cold like this in months, and I’m taking a bit of mindful time today to acknowledge the ways autumn’s dropping temperatures inspire my physiology. My mind is racing, my nose is running, my lips are stumbling through words, not because I’m stressed or sick or impeded, but because I’m cold. (96.6 degrees to be exact, I took my temperature.) And I am compassionately observing it all.
I was in a meeting this morning, wearing a dress sans tights or hose. I sat with my bare legs wound into eagle pose – like two bent strands of licorice. My shoulders hunched and reached toward my ears simultaneously. My smile stretched a little too tight. Because I was cold.
The earth moves and we all must move with her. For us New Englanders, that means surrendering to the cold and the changes that it brings – inside and out.
There may come a point later in the season that my skin has thickened and my body stops shuddering; but more than likely, the cold will announce its presence to me in a way that requires me to surrender to it and just be…. cold.