TactileTactileIt all sounds so great, but I haven't had one in so long, I'm far too stressed to finish this page...
Massage Therapy
There is definitely therapy in massage. Of course, there are at least three or four major types of massage, so exactly what kind of therapy you're actually getting, well...
Acupressure
I buy this. I even know a couple pressure points...handy therapy. Wish I knew more about it...
Accupuncture
Now, I don't generally have a problem with needles, but really...I acknowlege that this is the only thing that works for some people...I also acknowledge that some people enjoy sado-masochism. I'm not one of either of these types of people, and I ain't no porcupine. Maybe in my older age, I'll become more receptive and open up to the idea...maybe.
Rolfing
No, no...not worshiping the porcelain god, or any other awful euphemism for extreme vomiting...Dr. Ida Rolf developed a deep tissue/muscle massage. Supposedly, you do 10 sessions of this and you'll never have to do it again. It re-aligns all your bones, muscles, and tissue back to where they were supposed to be when you were growing up. We all maladjust our bodies for various reasons-- reaction to a car accident, poor posture from self-esteem issues, whatever--and this is supposed to fix it all. Of course, by its very nature, sometimes it hurts like hell, and often people report having emotional and physical flashbacks to the incidents that caused the initial misalignment. Dunno. The folks I've spoken to who've been through the whole series can't praise it enough...I'm getting up the nerve...I'll let you know.
!: Rolfing rocks. Within 15 minutes of my first session, I decided that I need to find a couple of years to spend learning this stuff. It's the most exquisite pain I've ever been through, and the most astounding results.
The Rhesus Monkey's Mother
One of the science experiments I studied in high school that stuck with me more than just about anything (except for the Holocaust series in Junior High), was about baby rhesus monkeys who were raised without mothers in their cages. One was given nothing, while the other was given a terrycloth fake mom. The control was a monkey with a real-life momma. Turns out the fake mom's baby was a sissy and wouldn't move from the terrycloth form for more than the briefest of moments. The mom-less monkey was a psycho-boy and would beat himself up against the cage. When the monkeys were put together, the real-mommied monkey tried to socialize, the terrycloth-mommied monkey curled up in a corner, and the psycho monkey tried to attack the others. What's the moral? Well, it's either "Love your mother," or We all need someone to love. You decide.
Lay Your Hands on Me - Peter Gabriel's So Tour
Peter Gabriel is not just a musician, he's a choreographer of art. If you haven't seen him in concert, sell your firstborn to do so. I first saw him on his So tour, as did about a gazillion teeny-boppers who thought Sledge Hammer was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Sigh. In any case, as a small sampling of what he did (besides use Vari-Lites™ in the best ways possible) includes the performance of "Lay Your Hands on Me" that he did as his pre-intermission song. Towards the end of his usual spectacular performance, he put the refrain on a repeater (Lay Your Hands on Me...Lay Your Hands on Me...Lay Your Hands on Me...), moved to the front edge of the stage, turned his back to the audience...
...and did a trust fall into the arms of 20,000 adoring fans. He was then passed overhead, hand over hand, around the floor. Security must have had conniption fits!
His next tour was even better.
Being Owned by a Cat
My cat George is a huge pud. All the cliches...when he lays around the house, he lays AROUND the house. But he's a great pillow and a big fuzzball, and I probably wouldn't have lasted through some of the more stressful points in my life if I couldn't curl up with him in a big fuzzy mass. Of course, in exchange for his support services, I'm required to feed him at his leisure (he's a morning cat, while I'm a night person, so he has to work to get his 6 am feeding). I am also required to turn on the sink water in the bathroom for him, upon request. And, I'm supposed to know the difference between the water request and the food request without a second thought. I'm also not supposed to leave him alone for more than a day or two, and if I do, I must spend a mandatory half hour petting him upon my return. The most exciting thing about the cat that owns me, though, is that I can jump-start him if I catch him by surprise...when he's sleeping, I can purr into his belly and a short while later, he is purring back. Now THAT's comfort. Where can I find a man like that?