Organically intimate

Opening up. Letting go. Surrendering. To oneself. The moment. To opportunities for organic intimacy with the self and with friends or lovers. How often do we allow ourselves this in the age of iPhones, iPads, texts, social networking, cyber chats, busy lifestyles and instant gratification? How often do we pick up the phone to share something of depth and meaning with another? Share laughter, spark intellectually stimulating conversation, swap life stories, or otherwise hidden secrets?

We fidget, we resist, we avoid ourselves and each other, we escape into machines and addictions. The humanity that can be found in connecting is fading in the dwindling creative process that takes place when people interact and relate in organic ways....face to face, heart to heart, verbal conversations, eye contact, touch, body language, expression of visceral uncensored emotion, vulnerability (being emotionally "naked," open, honest, and transparent with nothing to hide behind/from).

I could be in the minority that finds these experiences few and far between, but I highly doubt it. Having recently experienced a significant number of these experiences more than the usual (ie, rare), I got to thinking how much different I feel with them vs. without them. Connected. Alive. Joyful. Hopeful. Seen, wanted, desired, understood, known. Real experiences evoke real emotion. Virtual is an illusion that numbs and leaves one extremely wanting. It's no wonder why we as an American society are more depressed, disconnected, empty, unhealthy (physically and emotionally), and overly medicated now more than ever. But it doesn't have to be that way.

It will likely feel very uncomfortable to relax and completely surrender to your physical environment when you've been tethered to the ease of virtual living for so long. But you will feel alive. Earlier this week I had one (of many) such moments. I've recently discovered a new interest and appreciation for relaxation yoga and meditation, something that never struck my fancy until I was at my wit's end with a painful rib injury that left me desperate to try just about anything to heal that much quicker. Sadly, this was my only motivation for going. I'm oddly grateful for that injury though because it gave me the priceless gift of yoga. It's done wonders for my soul. I'm able to relax and let go completely, which speaks volumes since I can rarely turn myself completely to "off" mode. Since I've been practicing this yoga once a week, it's becoming a little more natural and likely I can do so when I'm not in the class.

Then there's meditation. I've never been one to meditate. I never thought I could do it the "right" way, even thought it to be boring, futile, and even a little pretentious. The other night, however, proved me wrong. Within minutes of being asked to think about and visualize those in my life who have been my greatest teachers, mentors, and loving supporters....my eyes (which were shut) filled with tears as I found myself surprisingly overcome with emotion, triggered by memories of people dear to my heart. I was filled with such joy to be reminded of this love and gratitude that could have gone unnoticed otherwise.

As I have been challenging myself, I challenge you to seek out opportunities to live in the organic....that which kindles intimacy and self-discovery, sparks genuine self-expression.

Real is slow, organic, random, messy, risky, at times even ecstacy. A puzzle to be put together. Layers of an onion to be peeled. A gift to be unwrapped and savored.

Memories and the senses

Visual. Auditory. Taste. Touch. Smell. (And the ever elusive/not so concrete "6th" sense, but that's a whole other topic I won't go into here!). I have been pondering the subject of how our memories (and overall daily life experience in general) is significantly impacted by the presence or lack of one or more senses.

Between personal experiences I find myself reflecting on (ie, my memories) and fascinating sensory related conversations with clients over the past two weeks, I find myself ever more aware of just how much we truly depend on our senses....not just to be able to go about our daily tasks, but how our senses can heighten or perhaps diminish a particular experience we have. Senses also influence the way in which we form a memory.

I always used to hate those conversation starters/'what if' questions that would ask "If you had to choose one sense that you could no longer have, what would it be?" because it seemed so hard and impossible to choose. If you say hearing, you never get to hear the sound of laughter or music again. If you choose not to smell things, I would imagine a sense of taste wouldn't be there either...not to mention missing out on the smell of the ocean, flowers, the scent of a lover, a wonderful meal, and so many other things that resonate with comfort, "home," love, happiness,etc. And then there's touch. Who can survive in this life without absolutely no touch of any sort? Psychological studies have shown that babies who have not been touched and nurtured reap negative consequences, emotional deficits,etc.

That leaves us with visual, which also comprises a huge aspect of our identity and emotional experience. Being the very visual creative person (with photography) and analytical (reading and writing) person that I am, I can't even fathom living without my eyesight. So if I ultimately had to choose, I guess I would want my visual sense to be the last to go...but how much of our experiences take up just ONE aspect of all five senses? Very few.

On the contrary, the senses are like slices of pie. When pieces are missing, the pie isn't whole. The absence of one sense may influence other existing senses to be stronger....like hearing things more easily or in a different way if you are blind. I wonder how this extends to something intangible and less concrete though, like memories.

Are we able to still "experience" our memory with our senses that do "work" if we no longer have that sense (in which the memory was originally formed) anymore? Does the memory disappear or just our conscious perception of it? For example,I'm sure you've had that experience of hearing a certain song come on and instantly you're reminded of a certain place or person (visual and auditory memory). Or maybe you travel back to your hometown after being away for several years and seeing certain buildings brings you back to a certain experience you had, the memory of any number of people in the past,etc. If that sense is gone, what happens with that memory (the meaning of the memory, as well as the thoughts and feelings it evokes)? I also wonder if it's harder or easier if you've never had the sense in your lifetime (versus if you've had to adapt after losing it at some point in life).

Back in the fall, I attended an excellent seminar about PTSD and how to help trauma survivors heal from their painful memories. What really struck me as most fascinating out of the whole entire training was learning about how differently memories are stored depending on our developmental stage. Those first few formative years from birth to the toddler years, visual and touch are the most critical in determining how we experience and remember something. Part of the challenge in helping trauma survivors heal is helping them shift a painful memory of something they experienced in a very specific sensory way into a non-threatening way (with or without other senses to create a new meaning?).

See how convoluted this intangible challenge of memory and the senses can be? Regardless, I find this subject incredibly intriguing. I wish I had "answers," but all I can do is ponder and ramble about it. I like that there's no answers though because if I knew, I probably wouldn't be compelled to think about the air of mystery of it all...