Coldplay & Cold Showers

There's a dog name Rex that sometimes sneaks into the room through the crack in the door. He has floppy ears, a saggy face and a body that hovers low to the ground. He likes to just sit in the corner. When he walks in the room he steals it all. Excitement, joy, drive, passion, hope, motivation. The mood changes and somehow it is so hard to get out of bed. Even though the light shines in, once Rex is there it feels like it takes twice as much energy and effort just to get the first task of the day done. He is not clever, he is not quick, but he is great at disguising himself. I was tired and just wanted to get some rest last night, forgetting to close the door all the way, and so he snuck in like he sometimes does. Rex has this way of making me think he belongs here. But he doesn't, he never did. So how do I get him to go, to leave, to be gone?

Cold showers.

He can't stand the thought of anything that makes him uncomfortable. Anything that makes him jump. Anything that makes him realize that I can and I will face my issues head on.

So I turn on my music. A song called "Birds" by Coldplay. I start dancing. Getting excited. And I prepare for taking the leap into the abyss of cold water.

I take the first step in, which is the hardest. I think to myself 'It doesn't have to be like this…Yes it has to be exactly like this!'

Then I take the second step, which is the most important step, to fully immerse myself.

Once I am in, it is never as hard as all the thinking and delaying beforehand. And by this time Rex is nowhere to be seen. He doesn't want any part to play with discomfort or risk. He wants me to stay comfortable where I might think about things I could do to change, but never act upon them. But he is gone. Out of sight. Out of mind. So I dance to the crescendo in the Coldplay songwhile I can't quite tell if I am the happiest I've ever been or panicking because of my body telling me "This is really cold, Jose!" (I like to refer to myself as Jose because I've been trying to learn Spanish for a really long time now and if my name is in Spanish when I refer to myself it makes me feel like I am taking this pursuit seriously). And by this time I have just passed the part where the water hits me on the back of my neck, the moment of truth, so with my body adjusted I am good to stay in for awhile.

See if it were up to Rex he would prefer for me to stay in my bed or stay in my room or stay in my house all day because he doesn't want me to move, to change locations, to get out of the environment where it is only me and my thoughts. But when I do, he can't stick around because when I am around other people they encourage me and tell me all that they see in me that is golden and so I start to believe it. And I realize that it is True. And then I start to tell people about the gold I see in them and how they don't have to live with Rex in their room. They can go outside and smile at someone or prepare an extra sandwich in the morning for the homeless guy that sits at that awkward stoplight where we secretly think to ourselves 'I hope it doesn't turn red!'

Because isolation is never a good response when you're going through something heavy. Or when you're caught in an apathetic wave of purposelessness. When we are alone all we have is Rex and our thoughts. And no matter how friendly you are around others, when you are by yourself, the mind becomes a battlefield. But we come alive in community. We are stretched and challenged. We find our purpose around others. But Rex isn't about that life. So we need to kick him out of the door. I like to do it early by starting my day with a cold uncomfortable shower.

May your love be strong,

Jose