Someone touched my arm in an affectionate way recently and it sent such a warm surge to my core. No one touches me that way anymore and it just pierced through me to realize how much I miss it. Intention means so much. Considering that I live in a culture that pulls away from those who are old and sick and dying, I actually get a lot of physical contact. People who want to make me feel better, who want to heal me, help me, who want to express sympathy or compassion or even love. But there's a distancing veneer of politeness, of professionalism, of friendship, of some notion of what is appropriate, a veneer that can be so microscopically thin but still that stands between us, creating a distance, preventing a raw genuine touch. It stands in the way of "you" touching "me" in a way that you and me are clearly just conveniences to a consciousness that understands there is no you or me. It prevents an accidental merging from occurring. It prevents an accidental merging from occurring. It keeps things superficial, in their appropriately labeled boxes. It prevents real connection, real contact. I am touched with kindness and with love - at a remove. And I am grateful for that kindly touch. I am grateful that you reach out toward me and connect in the ways that you can. Oh, but I so miss being touched with no remove. I miss being touched in a way that just sucks the me right out of me. Yeah, I miss that.

Hugs,
Barry