ON FEAR OF BEING COLD

Many of these essays I write to pass on my understanding of some problem that has been bothering me for a long time, and since I’ve been gnawing away at it, and have chased down many dead ends, and have made some progress, I’m interested in passing on what I have learned.

And here’s a problem I have made little progress on, if I am to be honest. I could fake some answers: bundle up and get out into the cold, but really, I’m avoiding going outside now that we’ve got a cold snap.

And the “cold” here, in the forties and low fifties, much of the rest of this country would love to be experiencing now, in January, which is, after all a winter month.

So: I could and have bundled up and got outside. I’ve done real work in the sun. I’ve ridden my bike at top speed and worked up some happiness and warmth.

And still: I’m avoiding it.

So what tools do I have at my disposable?

The work of Byron Katie for one. And for a big number two, the idea of separating out the real sensation, from the story about what’s going on.

The real sensation, I realize, I don’t give much credence to, I don’t really get into the “present moment” with my sensations of being cold. Except when I first go to bed, and the sheets are icy, and I’m usually a bit cold to start with, I’ve realized and discovered, that to move a bit and let my feet feel the cold at its worst, and then to just breathe into and sense the coldness of the cold parts of me begins to dissolve a state of contraction and fear in me.

But this is with the help of a bunch of blankets covering me (we do sleep with the window open, in a room where we shut the door to keep the rest of the house from freezing, but it is cold in the sleeping room), so I know my body heat will start to rise.

But now. To go outside. Take a brisk walk, and not to avoid the cold. To sense which parts of me are the coldest, to sense what that cold is actually like as sensation, and to do the Work on the story.

The story that “this is too cold.” Or, that, “it should be so cold.” Or that, “I should have a better body that can heat up better in cold weather.” Or that I “need to eat more fat.” All these words give a place to burn off bits of the anxiety I experience when I get cold, but they end up draining and disconnecting me from the moment.

Which means I can’t be happy. Which is not how I want to live.

So, time to go take a walk and see if I can separate sensation and story. ( And I discovered….. still a lot to learn. Good.)