Skin Care

ISSUE #155

We care for neglected skin as we do unpolished silver—our touch removes the film of neglect, of doubt and disbelief. In place of cloth, it's the plow of soft fingers, electric atoms sloughing dead cells away. Underneath, the glow returns, like a lantern from the belly of a tent. The steady brush of another’s skin can revive our luster lost.

Energy exchange is often derided in the West, but there’s evidence that the heart—the body’s strongest magnetic field—finds coherence when touching tissue in a state of sincere care. The evidence suggests that the heart transfers energy “when people touch or are [even] in proximity.” To polish objects, we use a wipe and lather; to polish the soul, we use our loving skin.

But skin also needs routine attention or it will dull like forgotten flatware in a farmhouse drawer. This is what I’ve learned upon touch's return, like what we learn about water from the first rain after drought—that before there’s relief, the ground sizzles and smokes. The mind's paths grow slick with torrents of waste.

My nerves have hidden gifts that I can’t reach on my own. Even the tracing of a finger on my palm picks a lock. Unopened, feelings curdle into fear; unlocked, they reveal a new dimension of being. These are more than just sensations, they are thoughts—every touch is an opinion, a perception, a belief.