I'm freezing.
Freezing.
As in, the frozen tundra of the arctic has nothing on me.
I'm wearing so many clothes I can't move.
I'm piled under so many blankets I can hardly breathe.
And I'm still freezing.
And yet....
I'm alive. I didn't sign up for a life of comfort. I'm here for the full experience. The good stuff. The bad stuff. And everything in between. I want it all. Before the 'here' of this life maybe I envied the ability to feel cold, to feel anything. Perhaps I should embrace the diversity of hot, warm, cold, comfort and discomfort.
I take a moment and notice things. The prickles of cold on the backs of my hands. The crisp air that moves in and out of my lungs. The goose bumps on my arms. It's sharp. It's harsh. It's life. Would I fully appreciate being toasty without it? Would I have run around in a warm, balmy climate and never realized the beauty of the thermal air that engulfed me?
This is cold. I breathe it. I think of it. I embrace it. I fully experience it.
Okay. Enough of that. Let's move to Ecuador and never leave.
