Oh to be touched, and yet to be so afraid of it. The way my spine would tighten and cramp in the gentle hum of a hug. The way a man once held me again and again in a subway station trying to teach me to hug because I was stiff as stone in his embrace. The way I slept when I remembered that my parents could never hug me because I would harden in their hands. The way I jumped when a teacher bent to hug me in grade 2. Touch, touch, lost touch.
And now I touch. I melt. I mold. I hold and caress and I sleep in many arms and I rest my cheek on chests and breasts and bellies. I rub feet and I sync heartbeats. Coming from no eye contact and cold quiet bubbles of individuality, this launch into the innocence of cuddle puddles and holding hands awakens in me a truer, softer version. One that is more aligned with her wild, pack-protecting soul. In the discovery of touch, I also discover my boundaries and what lines I can draw around intimacy. As I surrender to touching and being touched, I open the door of asking to touch and being asked to be touched. The concept of consent comes alive in a way that I never experienced because I had not begun the practice of touch. Through touch, I find the power within me to seek it when I need and to set boundaries when I don’t.
What have I discovered from this potent and simple medicine? Through physical touch, I have learned to calm my nervous system. I have learned to co-regulate with a group, breathing together and finding peace as one organism. I have discovered ways to navigate jealousy and openness when I am not touched by who I want to be touched by, or am asked to share this intimacy with others. I have begun to rewrite my story and untangle my roots from a trauma victim who could not touch to a part of the one, comfortable and safe in touching all. This spiritual surgery has shifted my field. Now that I am open and unafraid, my very aura welcomes people in a new way. I’ve been told how grounded I am, how easy to connect with. The energetic spines of the woman who feared touch have softened into pillows of welcome which seem to magnetize my community into my arms. It looks simple and yet the act of cuddling and touching is profoundly deep work, both energetic and physical. It is the bridge between the concept of oneness we seek on a spiritual level and the act of oneness in our communities. I am mother held by mothers, daughter held by daughters, sister held by sisters. I am women held by men, by brothers, by family.
Touch has been the doorway to tribe, and tribe has been the doorway to my authentic self. Through safe touch here at the farm, my skin has evolved to feel in a new way. Pleasure has become as innocent as a sister stroking my forearm, or a brother playing with my hair. If there was an Eden, it is through touch that I am rediscovering its likeness.
And this time, it seems the fruit is safe to both eat and share.
If you’d like to live in our conscious community of likeminded people focused on creating harmony, balance and art while living sustainably alongside our Mother Earth, you can check out this link to see what’s coming up and how you can be a part of it 🙂 Can’t wait to cuddle!
