I collect vintage dish towels. I like the linen ones, oceanside places are a particular favorite. I use them as hand towels in my bathroom.
One of my favorites is not from any specific place. It features seashells of the world. “Seashells from the Seacoasts of the World” is emblazoned across half of it.
Today, I dropped it, picked it up and hung it. Backwards. Accidentally.
I was startled by its beauty. For the first time, I saw only a lush assortment of shells; in vibrant colors! How could I miss the cobalt and brown and orange? Rustically faded, but each color is bold and rich! I resolved to use it this all the time! I’d write about it, too.
So I wrote my impressions. But, I forgot to save the little essay. When I had another idea, I thoughtlessly clicked “Don’t Save.” Later, remembered I wrote something, but what? I fretted and worried about my brain a bit. How could I write something and completely forget the subject?
A few hours later, I sat down in my bathroom. I saw my towel and remembered that I wanted to write about the experience I had. Yes!
Then, I noticed that I didn’t read “Seashells from the Seacoasts of the World” to myself. I didn’t read it because it wasn’t there! How many times had a read that in the last few years? Perhaps 1,000. Each time, when my brain could have been quiet for a moment, it read those words instead. Just because they were in front of me.
It boggles the mind how many words, incidental and important, we unconsciously absorb. We are bombarded by words, more than images it seems. They scream “read me!”
The words disappeared, so I wrote about the words-which also disappeared. The image brought back the words I’d lost, then I noticed NOT seeing the words. Weird little circle, right?