Relaxation doesn’t always look the same, but when it shows up, I know it by feel — like an old friend who doesn’t knock, just walks right in.
Sometimes, it’s writing these blog posts. The act of shaping thoughts into something worth reading calms me — even when the topic’s quirky or quick. There’s peace in the rhythm of the keys, the unfolding of a story, the sense that maybe, just maybe, someone out there will nod in recognition.
Other times, it’s a glass of bourbon — not just any pour, but something exceptional. The kind of pour that makes me stop and take notice. A nose that surprises. A palate that unfolds. A finish that lingers long after the sip. That’s not drinking — that’s savoring. And there’s a difference.
Then there are the movies. The old classics. The black-and-white greats and the Technicolor treasures. They don’t shout. They just tell stories well. I lose myself in them — in the craftsmanship, the music, the acting, the memory of watching them with people I love.
Music helps too. Yacht Rock, with its breezy optimism. Smooth jazz, with its late-night soul. These are the sounds of unwinding, of back porches and lazy drives and the soft clink of ice in a glass.
Sometimes I relax just by thinking — thinking about my grandson, Sully. That thought alone slows my heartbeat and softens everything. The world feels gentler when I remember his laugh, his curiosity, the way he calls me Papi.
And then there’s Daryl. Her “magic fingers” on my back. Her hands finding the tension in my neck and shoulders and just melting it. That’s not just physical relief — that’s love with muscle memory. That’s someone saying, “You don’t have to carry all of it right now.”
But more than anything, I find rest in prayer. When I pause long enough to place my cares in the hands of the One who can actually hold them, I breathe deeper. I stop striving. I let God remind me that it’s not all up to me. That’s when the real peace comes — not the kind that fades with noise, but the kind that anchors me.
I’ll be honest — I’m not always great at relaxing. But I’m learning. Learning that rest isn’t about doing nothing. It’s about doing the right things — the life-giving things — on purpose.
So how do I relax? With words. With whiskey. With movies and music. With memories and massages. With prayer that puts everything back in perspective.
And you?
Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt.
