Friday, July 13, 2012
I hate being touched. I don't go around touching people's cheeks and patting their shoulders and pecking them every time I stand up to go to the loo. That's how I know my friends .... I touch them and I let them touch me. (In a platonic way!) I allow them into my space and I accept to enter theirs. Its my ultimate level of trust. It's how I show I care. Touch is my distinguishing feature. A trust that I do not wield about lightly. If I let you hand linger in a handshake for longer than a second, I either have profound respect or fear for you....or you are my friend. Either way, it is not a privilege easily given. It is the Midas touch.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
There's a story I heard a few months back about this powerful chap who was chasing (or pursuing... chasing sounds just dirty.) down this equally powerful woman for marriage. Years came and went and she declined him again and again. Then one day, seemingly out of the blue, she accepted his proposal. This gesture baffled this powerful man. A man not easily puzzled. After the flamboyant wedding, he asked her why she finally agreed to his advances. She gave a simple answer that seemed to impress this man not easily impressed. "I finally found what my purpose in your life was to be."