Today I think comfort is beautiful. I think it is interesting that everyone finds comfort in different places. Some people find it in a church, kneeling down with closed eyes. Some people find it at parties, surrounded by friends and good music. I personally find it in my room, alone with a good book. And comfy socks. But isn’t it interesting how we all crave comfort and seek it out? When I finally reach my room and pick a book off my shelf, I can physically feel my muscles relax. Maybe that is because of my high anxiety, but maybe it is a normal thing too. Maybe we all feel that way when we finally get into our favorite comfortable place after a long uncomfortable day.
I think it is beautiful because it feels beautiful. I feel my most beautiful right after a shower, with socks and leggings and a warm sweatshirt on – cuddled into my bed with my dog and a fuzzy blanket. I’m not sure “beautiful” really explains it perfectly, but I’m having trouble finding just the perfect combination of words to actually explain it. It just feels beautiful. So it must be beautiful.
This has been another weird rant from your local Catholic weirdo.