Fair warning, lovers: This one will be very different from the others. (Are you reading this at the office, by the way? Because you might not want to be reading this at the office. But then again, maybe you really do.)
Consistency is divine but so is disruption. So is surprise.
This post is not about how to’s or fixing or changing anything. It’s about feeling.
Feeling, it seems to me, is a precious and increasingly scarce form of artistry. People are numbed out all over the damn place trying to avoid feelings of pain but also, in more cases than we seem to realize, trying to avoid feelings of good honest organic pleasure (because, you know, the guilt and the guilt and the guilt and everything – and then there’s the guilt).
Odd things, we.
Maybe it’s better (more accurate? more tragic?) to say that avoiding our feelings has become a twisted art form in itself.
Somehow, in these overcharged, overstimulating, hyper-sexed times, we end up numb and ashamed when all we really crave is to be touched and awakened.