1. Watch the video.
2. Trail and touch your hands.
3. Write down 3 to 10 things you notice (either when you touch your hands or when you touch something during the day (no wrong or right here).
3. Write them in your workbook.
4. The rest of the day: be a Happy Touchy Feely Alien
https://youtu.be/Z4ng2Sh3r1s
The Superpower we’re Super Sensing in this lesson is your Touch. We’ve got a ridiculously large sense organ AKA our skin. It’s such a beautiful and – may I add – elegant Superpower.
Unfortunately, is’s a Superpower we tend to forget about.
This is about to change …. NOW…
We start with your hands. Because our fingertips are the most bizarrely sensitive 10 instruments. For the rest of the day, you are ging to touch everything with that already familiar Open Mind of the Alien.
A friend once observed how women in shops walk around touching everything. And it’s true, you know? Go to any shop and see women (and sometimes – halleluja – a guy) walk around like giant spiders, touching every fabric they fancy.
Enjoy the touching!
Gorgeous Surfaces
They are, the surfaces, gorgeous: a master
pastry chef at work here, the dips and whorls,
the wrist-twist
squeezes of cream from the tube
to the tart, sweet bleak sugarwork, needlework
toward the perfect lace doily
where sit the bone-china teacups, a little maze
of meaning maybe in their arrangement
sneaky obliques, shadow
allusives all piling
atop one another. Textures succulent but famished,
banal, bereft. These surfaces,
these flickering patinas,
through which,
if you could drill, or hack,
or break a trapdoor latch, if you could penetrate
these surfaces’ milky cataracts, you
would drop,
free-fall
like a hope chest full of lead
to nowhere, no place, a dry-wind, sour,
nada place,
and you would keep dropping,
tumbling, slow
motion, over and over for one day, six days, fourteen
decades, eleven centuries (a long time
falling to fill a zero) and in that time
not a leaf, no rain,
not a single duck, nor hearts, not one human, nor sleep,
nor grace, nor graves–falling
to where the bottom, finally, is again the surface,
which is gorgeous, of course,
which is glue, saw- and stone-dust,
which is blue-gray
ice, which is
the barely glinting grit
of abyss.