This is something different.

Something entirely different. 

This is an experiment in touch making. 

I'm going to put my hands on you, slowly, delicately and then with declarative purpose,

to get you to show me who you are,

underneath all that modern speed, 

the layers of repetitive and robotic motions,

the warehoused fear and pain,

and all the pleasure deferred and delayed.....

....and bring you into the delicious possibility of being completely present,

here,

now, 

in this glorious body,

with its amazingly complex network of sensory magic and electric consciousness.  

I'm going to ask you, even gently coax you, to tell me, please, the way a lover with open hands would:

What are you doing in this world of ours?

Why are you somewhere else,

whether future or past...

....and not right here right now,

feeling your birthright of pleasure and possibility?

This is the question I am posing to you....

with oil...

with sweat and toil...

...in small, circular motions and in long sweeps up and down your body...

...with fingers inserted between your toes, and with elbows and forearms splaying out your edges.

I'm going to activate you, to pleasure you, truly, madly, deeply,

....and give you some reminder of what is possible when you are adored, opened up, clarified and made to feel as big as you were born to be. 

After all, you are the product of thousands of years of gesture, motion, evolution and human flight. 

But here we are, in the age of screens, all of us touch-starved to some degree or another, making slow suicide of our bodies...

And yet, your body should not be denied.

Actually, it will not be denied.

It will either assert itself disguised as symptoms or illness,

or…

be properly honoured and channelled as…

bliss. 

Let's go with bliss, shall we.

I want to find the animal in you,

....the artist,

...and the goddess.

You can't be complete as a woman without all three. 

Touch is a light-ning rod.