Platonic Touch, yes?

Do you lean in, or do you cringe?

It’s worth being curious about—not because you need to change your response, but because curiosity is the yellow brick road.

Last week, in The Loam, during one of our group Q&A sessions, a woman asked about platonic touch. She expressed that, despite living with very snuggly humans, she craved more touch between friends, in general, and often felt awkward knowing how or if or to what frequency to initiate that kind of touch. Usually, these Q&A sessions weave around and multiple people bring up a variety of topics. Not this one. It was as if she lit a match and the whole Zoom room became illuminated and we stayed with touch. Big eyes. Big desires. Big absence. Big tears. Big wondering. Big possibility.

I think we can touch our fellow humans like a hibiscus touches the air, my man's paddle thumb holding and being held by my hand, embrace with a beloved friend, and a photo of snuggle-touch with my second born in honor of her winter solstice bday coming up

We explored the nuance of nervous systems: reading cues in others, navigating our own needs as they bounce up against a different person, the chemistry two people create. I told a story of sitting close on the couch with one friend, both so caught up in our stories that we were squeezing each other’s thighs and practically climbing on top of each other while laughing. I barely see that friend but our touch tolerance and impulse is similar. Then I shared about an intimate friend I see often but with whom I titrate my hugs and physical love—as in, wrapping her in a tight squeeze might just overload her nervous system. It could be too much, so I follow her lead of a light, gentle and very tender embrace. Not because I’m suppressing myself but because I’m respecting another body.

In our Q&A conversation:

People brought their physical aloneness.

People brought their physical togetherness and how alone that can feel even so.

People spoke of paid touch or bodywork.

People spoke of paid sex.

People spoke of cultural nuance with touch.

People spoke of touch-phobia in the United States.

People spoke about the impact of the pandemic.

People spoke of the importance of pets for touch.

People spoke of a deep human longing.

One woman said that holding a stranger male’s hand in a safe group setting is slowly metabolizing some deep childhood wounding.

Yes, we are mammals!

THIS is why I have forever advocated for IN PERSON ALL THE TIME (see my note down below about what feels like an undiscussed possibility of online work). An elder of mine seemed so taken by Zoom during the pandemic, like it was The Answer. It was and still is an answer. It will never replace in the flesh, though. Once we were all back to seeing each other again, she said, “Yes, I see what you were saying.”

What platonic touch exists in your life?

One of my intentions is to wriggle out from the modern life promise of ‘life at your fingertips’ and to enter wholly into more opportunities for platonic touch. I wonder about the community dances that were touchstones for every indigenous culture everywhere (you come from one somewhere). People dancing with each other, touching each other in artistic expression. I took a contract improv class once and, ooo la, that cranked open all the platonic touch receptors. Or shared chores—loading the firewood, washing the laundry, chopping the carrots, brushing shoulders as you do it. Or simply being in the same space breathing the same air: someone’s in-breath touching your out-breath. When the grocery store cashier hands me an item to put in my bag and our hands make contact, I notice it. So small. So important.

If you don’t know the Wheel of Consent, it’s a great foundation. It has radicalized my touch (all the kinds) with my husband. I wonder about exploring the platonic touch realm in this way with friends. As a practice.

You?

Touch starved isn’t going to get us anywhere.

Hand-holding, it’s real,