Stay in Your Towel

An epiphany brought to you by a captivated visitor to the Giant’s Causeway:

Please understand the value of staying in your towel.

A pervasive feeling takes over the body after stepping out of the shower. Your skin rosy from the hot rain, like a magnet you are drawn to your bed. Clothing can wait. You plan to only sit for a moment, but the soft sheets on your fresh body tempt you to lay just a bit further back until you are nearly consumed by clouds of cotton. You welcome this escape from the world. A distant and daunting part of your rationale recognizes a world of duties and responsibilities, but you mute the voice. You give yourself a few minutes, an hour perhaps. A moment of intoxicating serenity, hardly shielded by more than a rectangle of cotton.

In a world of overstimulation, peace can often feel like stagnation. A minute to yourself is robbery from your intellect. A minute to rest your feet, a lack of gratitude for mobility. But a busy schedule is not synonymous with a fulfilling life. Even swollen muscles cannot grow without time to rest.

Let my towel rescue me from my routine.

Interpretation can dilute the value of my favorite sensations: listening to waves smack Northern Irish cliffs, identifying the features unique to someone I love madly, feeling the sun stain freckles on my face. Silence can birth healing if you let it. Sometimes the trees shake and the wind whistles for nothing other than because. A search for meaning in everything can spiral into exhaustion.

A slap on the wrist for an addiction to analyzing. I remind myself that I am simply allowed to enjoy.