how do I want to feel?

Calliope shivered.

Urania blew her nose into a soft tissue.

Thalia rubbed her frigid fingers with ferocity.

Typist was a sight. Over her pajama top she wore a heavy, hooded fleece sweatshirt capped off with a poncho. Tufts of her short hair reached skyward. She found her faux-fur lined slippers at the back of her closet and slipped them on.

“Baby it’s cold outside!” exclaimed Thalia.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” asked the Muse of Many Questions. “Mother Nature doing that thing she does every year around this time? Shifting gears and making room for new ways of seeing and being?”

“Typist… It is time to light the fire!” Urania pressed.

“You’re right. It is,” said Typist. She walked to the thermostat and turned on the furnace.

Ahhhh! — The closest room on the first floor to the heat making machine is Typist’s studio. The space immediately wrapped the crew in a warm embrace.

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In a conversation yesterday, a friend shared a question that I find glitters like gold…

What if instead of asking, What do I want?, we ask ourselves, How do I want to feel??

Does that shift your perspective? It surely shifts mine.

I have control over the stories I tell myself.

You do, too.