Today in my SoulCollage class we were making intuitive cards. I didn’t know what I was making when I began, but I kept gravitating toward furry animal things.
What emerged was this: two cats, some open palms reaching outward, and petroglyphs (of cats?) in the background.
As I worked, a line from Mary Oliver kept drifting through my mind: the soft animal of my body.
And suddenly I understood what the card was about.
(Though actually… I think I had already been noticing it.)
Like when I go to the chiropractor and she adjusts my back and I think, Oh my God that feels great. Someone’s hands on my back.
Or when I’m at the dentist and the hygienist is gently brushing my teeth, and even that feels strangely comforting.
And that’s when I realized:
The card was speaking for the part of me that is starved for touch.
And I wonder how many of us are walking around carrying this quietly, moving through the world without enough touch—without enough of that simple, bodily nourishment.
People often laugh when I say I go to the dog park even though I don’t have a dog.
But there are two reasons.
One is the oxytocin—which I now call dogcytocin (a T-shirt may be forthcoming).
The other is that it’s one of the few places in my life where I get snuggles! Golden retrievers leaning into my legs. A happy mutt pressing against me for scratches.
The warm weight of a dog’s head resting on my knee for a moment before they run off again.
And get this - It turns out there’s actually a name for this feeling: skin hunger.
I had never heard that phrase before, but the moment I did, I knew exactly what it meant. Skin hunger is what researchers call the physical and emotional ache that comes from not having enough touch in our lives.
Which suddenly made my dog park habit make perfect sense!
No big conclusion here, I just wanted to let you know I see you.
This one’s for the touch starved.
For the skin hungry.
For the soft animals that we are.
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.