touch, most gentle, intimate and sincere of all the senses… nourishing in most of its guises, whether through massage, the pummel of muscles, which relaxes, then releases the fraught stored clenched memories
or from a hug, warmth shared, summoning something greater
it disturbs me that society has almost banished touch, cuddles reserved for your own children, a caress only for a lover, sometimes people shy away, almost flinch when you reach out to touch them (like salt on slug lips?!)
‘how dare you!’, ‘invasion!’, ‘keep your filthy paws… (off my silky drawers)’
yes touch can be rough, abrupt, ambivalent sexual, but also and, even, sometimes, at the same time gentle, playful, releasing, forgiving

it is ancient, that which is deepest, oldest, first… fundamental
think of the oldest life, as they squirmed through the primordial ooze, the world as a felt experience
or the foetus us, shrimp curled in our mothers womb… held, contained, feeling only the pressing outwards, inwards, of cusp and boundaries.
Our ancestors, plains dwellers, frightened within the night, huddled close to the genius warmth of fire, eyes gazing upwards, marvelling at the cold distance of the crystal stars
… but from the safe, held, coddled warmth of the rummage of bodies, the we, the closeness of us

humans sweaty, grubby, present

ha! indeed i greatly enjoy my own grandeloquence! boa constrictor squeeze the life from a thought with the clammy clasp of words
a tumble of words written first thing in the morning, inteersting space, before we are grounded by conversation

………… and a mail that got totally ignored … struggle with that sort of energy!

was doing some sun salutations this morning, such a gorgeous b-e-a-utiful day out there, and was thinking absent mindedly about your status, of course i should just have been with the postures, but my mind so often doodles in spirals.. was going to say the obvious, that when i split from my ex, barely took anything, tried to embrace all those ideas of letting go, making space, but in all honesty i don’t think it was that succesful for me, as always trying, rather than allowing it to come from anywhere natural… ended up with less stuff to lug around though, so guess that was good!
.. but actually i was thinking more of the temple metaphor, i tend to feel more like what? a small fearful creature scurrying through a sprawling decaying city, the city of all that i have ever known, baroque, medieval, prague probably, where i used to live, but knowing well that i am not merely that creature, but the city itself, the faces and guises on all the statues (ooh thinking grandiose like the bayonne at angkor wat, amazing place, hope you’ve been there!), but also the beautiful woman glimpsed turning away from the window, somewhere on the outskirts fading into other people, the social realm, ancient archetypes… oh but also the new life, the flowers pushing up growing through the paving stones.
hmmm enough of rather obvious morning fancifulness, my kids are over, shall have to see if they fancy being roused into going for a walk… teenagers!

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