Mindful-fun-da-mentals

Explorations of mind, paths, and life

Driveway Thoughts

Posted on March 18, 2009 - Filed Under self reflect

I went to my friend and healer today, and in that time I began to understand something about myself I hadn’t quite noticed before. Honestly, it is amazing how many things I learn about myself on an ongoing basis each week, and who knows how much of it I retain, because most of it is caught up in experiences or discussions, and then plowed over by the glut of meaningless tasks and mindless chatter that envelope life in general. I tried, with wild effort, to audio-blog while I drove in the car, but to no avail, I was left with nothing and had to carry my thoughts by a thread the rest of the day until I could sit and write. What an effort that is…

I guess I believed that I really wasn’t a “touchy-feely” type person. Perhaps the many ways I have numbed myself over the last few years (and I say this from a place that has never included drugs or alcohol) have left me isolated from the sense of contentment from making physical connections with others. The blessing of having our pup, Gizmo, whose ears are the softest I have ever known on a dog, and his incessant need to be on my lap or near me has gotten me in contact with this part of myself without really realizing it. Lately the subtle power of physical touch on emotion and my sense of being is becoming blatantly obvious to me in small expeirences I have just started situating in a more conscious way.

I remember when I was single parenting, with Little JP toddling around our home in all his baby-skinned glory, I loved the moments in which he wrapped his arms around me and pressed his soft cheeks to my skin as if I was the softest blankie in the world. And, there were evenings, JP fast asleep in our home, that I would wander downstairs to my neighbor’s condo, knock on his door, and just ask to be hugged, not for any sexual need but simply to feel and breathe the connection I didn’t have in my life other than the little being who occupied my days. My friend John Montemerlo, an artist and painter, would let me in to just talk and connect. Hugs were short lived, but for a moment I could draw in the smell of another human and the warmth and energy of something touching my skin that wasn’t clothing or my own sense of being.

T