Touching

The forgotten sense. We feast our eyes on beautiful things that come across our line of sight during museum visits and walks in the park. We moan in near ecstasy when the juice of a perfectly ripe peach runs down our chin, the tangy sweet molecules setting all taste buds on fire. We dance and sing along to favorite tunes that set our hearts and bodies in motion. We stop in front of bakeries just for the pleasure of breathing in the scent of fresh-out-of-the-oven bread.

But what of touching? Without this sense we would lose our place in the world. How could one walk without the pressure of the ground giving feedback or the bump of a corner redirecting the path? Touching sometimes equals pain which we may avoid at all costs, but the sharp sting of a hot pan registers in our brain as danger so fast we barely feel the burn. Touching equals tickling and caressing and hugging and embracing. Sometimes it equals pleasure beyond compare. God knew what he was doing when he figured out a way to encourage lovemaking.

We go through our days bumping into things, on purpose when we pick them up and by accident when we stub our toe on the blasted stool that has a wonky leg that sticks out. Most cuss-worthy moments involve such surprise touches. While packing up beloved antique lamps with glass mosaic shades, a shard of glass poked my thumb. It was my own fault, having dropped it earlier and thinking it was unscathed. That tiny prick served as a warning. I wrapped the shade in paper and wrote “Careful, it cut me” on the tape. I’ll deal with the hazard on the other side of the move. That pain point reminded me to be careful while packing and unpacking. May a sore thumb be the extent of our injuries.

Sometimes we touch when we say goodbye. A pat on the shoulder or a hug when departing. Most times, we know it won’t be long before we are reunited. Other times, we are not so sure. Those hugs are the best, wrapping four arms around years of love and connection. And the worst. This is it. Goodbye. But there are plans for visits, anticipating fun weekends of hosting out-of-towners. We have fond memories of time spent with friends in their own cities, exploring the art and music and restaurant scenes. I can’t wait to develop our own sense of…Welcome to our new hometown.

My sister (Hi Nank!) and I laugh about touching every paper clip; that nitty gritty tedium of the final packing up. There will come a time when I give up on decision-making – what goes, what will be donated or recycled or trashed – I’ll just throw the last tiny bits into a box to be dealt with on the flip side. I want to call it detritus, but that is not quite right. It is flotsam and jetsam. At least I won’t be tossing it directly into the sea, but is a landfill any better? Thankfully, as tempting as it is to toss it all in a heavy-duty trash bag, very little of our “stuff’ suffers such a fate. The majority is separated for various resale and non-profit causes to one day soon find a worthy home. As I handle every little thing (I am keeping the paper clips), touching each item, I say goodbye, sending love and happiness to its future owner.

During our last move, I imagined our new (now current) home uncluttered and spacious. I must have promised I wouldn’t muck it up with more stuff. What happened? Years of living, I guess. Now I am thinking of new spaces, hoping to not overfill them. There is peace and rest in empty spaces. Deep breaths permeate the practice of “it is enough” versus more, more, more. Moving is an opportunity for cleansing in many ways.

Touching means texture, and like the other senses, a variety is welcome. I’ve read that Leonardo Da Vinci wore silk and velvet robes to stimulate the feel of fabric against his skin. He understood the importance of sensuality. There was no Alexa or Siri to call up his favorite tunes, so he did one better: he hired quartets to play while he created. True or not, can you imagine? He filled his studio with fresh flowers. I can almost smell it. Perhaps he ate simple meals of the ripest produce for the season. He is credited with the eye-warming exercise. If you want to enhance a visual experience (sunset, favorite painting) rub your palms together then cover your closed eyes for a minute or so. When you open them, the colors will seem brighter.

We can do small things every day to enhance our senses, adding pleasure to the mundane. Eating (smelling and tasting), watching and listening entertain and delight us. So does touching, if we are paying attention.