I touch.
It’s one of the many ways I experience the world around me, and I have very sensitive fingertips. They transmit streams of data to my brain, constantly, telling me about smooth/rough, soft/firm, warm/cold, curved, straight, edged, sharp, dull, slimy, fuzzy, completely touchable, or never again.
I love sensuous fabrics- satin, suede, microfiber, fleece, oft-washed cotton, or high thread-count cotton. I love the way they feel when they glide across my skin, soft, smooth, pettable, as though I could wrap myself in it and float off on a cloud.
I am, what many would call, a “sensual person”. Not, necessarily in the sexual overtones most people use that phrase, but, in the fact that I use all of my senses to explore my world.
Sight – colors, depth, symmetry, and that certain something that just appeals to my sight, makes an object, person, view, simply something that catches my breath, and makes me stare. I stare at people I see in public, sometimes, simply because of the tone of their skin, or the depth in their eyes, the curve of their mouth as they smile, or the fall of their hair. I feel awkward if they catch me, because I’m sure they think I’m some kind of weirdo, but, it’s just… something extraordinary… about them, that grabbed my attention. I’ve told people in the past “I’m an artist, and you have fabulous (insert cool thing about them here)”.
Smell. I revel in woodsy scents, warm smells, cedar, sandalwood, etc. Dark, inviting smells like musk; exciting and spicy smells, like cinnamon & cloves. That’s why carnations are my favorite flowers, they’re spicy and sweet, all at the same time, & when I smell them, I’m liable to just want to stick my nose in the bouquet & stay there. Pumpkin spice, apples & cinnamon. I love the “clean” scents, too, they’re invigorating & comforting. Line-dried laundry, smelling of sunshine & fresh air, and, yes, the smell of honest sweat can even be inviting. No, not the B.O. that happens after a really long, sweaty, rank day… But the fresh smell of hard work has never been a turn-off for me.
Sound. Drums. Oh. My. God. Drums. With a strong beat, I turn into a meditative zoned-out zombie. Drums can calm me down, or fire me up, depending on the tempo, rhythm and depth of the drum itself. Bass drums set my heart beating to whatever tempo they’re sending out… Thump. Thump.
Taste. Well, I’m a picky eater. But the things I like, I love to savor, indulge, linger over. Nuff said.
But- Touch.
That is my personal go-to.
Soft touch, rough over smooth, warm and steady, lingering, shaky, light, firm. I will often run my fingertips over my arms, just to reassure myself, to calm myself.
Well, I’m too old to carry a blankie around, now, aren’t I?
I just wish there was more of it to go around.
Touch.
Essential.
To me, anyway.
Brea's Air 