April 23, 2019
The Mysterious Power of Touch
Not sure how it began, a small group of us female residents having coffee in the community room this morning, got onto the subject of touch.
Janice (I am not using anyone's real name) started by telling about her recent visit to a massage therapist.
How amazing it was that her muscles softened beneath those firm warm hands-how much more alive she felt
when she left with a spring in her step.
Donna joined in with a story about feeling lonely and a bit lost when she ventured into a new church after having moved here from a distance. Although everyone was welcoming and friendly, it was when one lady
put her arms around her and pulled her against her ample breast, patting her back, that Donna felt she was
at home.Warm words are good, but how is it that a hug can say so much more?.
I am a Yankee born. We are not demonstrative. I am an Episcopalian--we have the reputation of being a trifle stand-offish. Might not be what we feel; however, it is the demeanor we maintain! When I moved to the South--North Carolina at first- I was embarrassed, had no idea how to respond to strangers who
hugged me-even a peck on the cheek sometimes- when we first met. I was frightened of the intimacy of touch. I have lived in the South for over 14 years now. I have not only learned to accept the genuine
comfort of the hugs, I actually welcome them.
When you cannot find the words, give a hug. There is something far more consoling in that than in a litany of flowery words.
Is touch important to the animals? I believe they understood the value of touch long before the first wolf crawled to the edge of man's fire. When your dog has been good, you pat his head and can't you tell how
much it means? Even without language? The dog says, with wagging tail and happy eyes, "Yeah-I am a GOOD dog". When your dog wants to get your attention, he nudges you, will sometimes push his head beneath your otherwise occupied hand.
When I first began agility training with my Aussie, our instructor told us to do a little massage of the dog's body, rub the back and legs, massage their toes, before entering the ring to compete. It warms the body and creates a mystic web between dog and handler .Touch!
My present dog, Hannah, a Brittany, is terrified of thunder storms. This strikes me as rather weird since she is not a bit gun-shy and actually watched the 4th of July fireworks with me showing not the slightest concern.
My Aussie, Heather, was equally as frightened when the thunder rolled and lightening flashed. There are
jackets being sold to put on your dog which are reported to help. The principal behind this is that the jacket fits snugly--it hugs the dog. Heather used to go to the drawer where her jacket was kept whenever she sensed a storm on the horizon, often long before I became aware of it's approach. She wanted the jacket's embracing touch.
Hannah does not seem to find the support from the jacket. While both dogs benefited from my reading out loud to them during a storm (mind you, they had no idea what was being read-it is the sound of my voice that calmed their frazzled nerves), the thing that works best is having the dog cuddle up tight next to me, my arm
holding them close. Once again, the magic hug,
Susie, my cat, demands touch. She rubs between my feet, She pushes her head into my hands purring
loudly. "Oh rub the ears, pat the back, PLEASE". In bed at night, she always has to be touching some part of me. The reassurance of touch.
And then there is Ginger, the feral cat whom I feed. She is the last of a small group of community cats that once lived here. She is alone--and very lonely. She does not quite trust humans, likely with good cause as there are some here who detest cats and a broom greets her pleas for attention. So Ginger has decided to seek the touch she longs for from Hannah. Why she trusts this dog, I have no idea. How did she first dare to approach this different species, seeking the comfort she wanted. She rubs her body all over Hannah, walking beneath Hannah's belly, twining herself though Hannah's legs. Hannah is patient, though not what you would call responsive. She allows it. And Ginger, once she has covered herself in dog scent, goes
peacefully on her way.
The mysterious power of touch. Every living thing responds to it. The flower to the bee. The swaddled newborn baby, the naked baby bird to the touch of it's parent's beak full of nourishing food, the foal on his wobbly legs, encouraged to stand by it's dam's gentle nudges.
Touch is a mysterious power beyond description. We can only note examples of just how amazing it can be.
May you all be touched.
The Mysterious Power of Touch
Not sure how it began, a small group of us female residents having coffee in the community room this morning, got onto the subject of touch.
Janice (I am not using anyone's real name) started by telling about her recent visit to a massage therapist.
How amazing it was that her muscles softened beneath those firm warm hands-how much more alive she felt
when she left with a spring in her step.
Donna joined in with a story about feeling lonely and a bit lost when she ventured into a new church after having moved here from a distance. Although everyone was welcoming and friendly, it was when one lady
put her arms around her and pulled her against her ample breast, patting her back, that Donna felt she was
at home.Warm words are good, but how is it that a hug can say so much more?.
I am a Yankee born. We are not demonstrative. I am an Episcopalian--we have the reputation of being a trifle stand-offish. Might not be what we feel; however, it is the demeanor we maintain! When I moved to the South--North Carolina at first- I was embarrassed, had no idea how to respond to strangers who
hugged me-even a peck on the cheek sometimes- when we first met. I was frightened of the intimacy of touch. I have lived in the South for over 14 years now. I have not only learned to accept the genuine
comfort of the hugs, I actually welcome them.
When you cannot find the words, give a hug. There is something far more consoling in that than in a litany of flowery words.
Is touch important to the animals? I believe they understood the value of touch long before the first wolf crawled to the edge of man's fire. When your dog has been good, you pat his head and can't you tell how
much it means? Even without language? The dog says, with wagging tail and happy eyes, "Yeah-I am a GOOD dog". When your dog wants to get your attention, he nudges you, will sometimes push his head beneath your otherwise occupied hand.
When I first began agility training with my Aussie, our instructor told us to do a little massage of the dog's body, rub the back and legs, massage their toes, before entering the ring to compete. It warms the body and creates a mystic web between dog and handler .Touch!
My present dog, Hannah, a Brittany, is terrified of thunder storms. This strikes me as rather weird since she is not a bit gun-shy and actually watched the 4th of July fireworks with me showing not the slightest concern.
My Aussie, Heather, was equally as frightened when the thunder rolled and lightening flashed. There are
jackets being sold to put on your dog which are reported to help. The principal behind this is that the jacket fits snugly--it hugs the dog. Heather used to go to the drawer where her jacket was kept whenever she sensed a storm on the horizon, often long before I became aware of it's approach. She wanted the jacket's embracing touch.
Hannah does not seem to find the support from the jacket. While both dogs benefited from my reading out loud to them during a storm (mind you, they had no idea what was being read-it is the sound of my voice that calmed their frazzled nerves), the thing that works best is having the dog cuddle up tight next to me, my arm
holding them close. Once again, the magic hug,
Susie, my cat, demands touch. She rubs between my feet, She pushes her head into my hands purring
loudly. "Oh rub the ears, pat the back, PLEASE". In bed at night, she always has to be touching some part of me. The reassurance of touch.
And then there is Ginger, the feral cat whom I feed. She is the last of a small group of community cats that once lived here. She is alone--and very lonely. She does not quite trust humans, likely with good cause as there are some here who detest cats and a broom greets her pleas for attention. So Ginger has decided to seek the touch she longs for from Hannah. Why she trusts this dog, I have no idea. How did she first dare to approach this different species, seeking the comfort she wanted. She rubs her body all over Hannah, walking beneath Hannah's belly, twining herself though Hannah's legs. Hannah is patient, though not what you would call responsive. She allows it. And Ginger, once she has covered herself in dog scent, goes
peacefully on her way.
The mysterious power of touch. Every living thing responds to it. The flower to the bee. The swaddled newborn baby, the naked baby bird to the touch of it's parent's beak full of nourishing food, the foal on his wobbly legs, encouraged to stand by it's dam's gentle nudges.
Touch is a mysterious power beyond description. We can only note examples of just how amazing it can be.
May you all be touched.
Comments
Post a Comment