Walk into the Cold

Cold water. The plunge. What it teaches us. In the mountains alone. Somewhere is more than alone. I’m not here. I’m not even here. There’s me, the mountains. Where am I? All I can see is mountains. I can see his lake. All I can feel is the wind. Where am I in? All of this. This is it. So why in God’s green Earth would I ever, for even a millisecond? Think I’m separate. Therefore, why in hell would I ever for just even the slightest breath, resist any of this? Pull from any of this. Take off my clothes to keep the body warm. For what? What would I die without these now? There is no society right now. Where is society? But in my imagination it’s a few miles down the road. I’ll give you that. But it is not here, just lives in the imagination at the moment. So I go back. To God’s green earth naked. Get in the water. This is where OSHA does not like. There was a pulling from it. Pulling from the cold. A monkey mind screaming about hitting its symbols, squeaking its tie. This loud scream swears promises I am separate from the water that I must go from the water, but what the cold it teaches. Is that this? So strong, so apparent, so concrete wall. Is like a dog barking at a car or barking at you. Once you step in. Two to barking, two to dog. You walk right by it. The dog does nothing. The dog is smoke, just like you were smoke. Step into that step into the cult. Be in the cold. And Justice watch. This so apparent this yelling and screaming. Large loud mouth. Coward dissolve. Just watch them. More than a metaphor of dissolving into water, it is. The barrier is perceived. Watch it. Just pass. And it will pass and then see it go. And when it comes back now you know. Like you know. The first time you stand to a barking dog. It is scary. Everything in you is telling you not to step forward, but once you do. The next dog just seems like a frightened puppy. No matter how big, no matter how scary, it will be easier to step next time.