Hands

Recently, I was reflecting on the profound yet simple gift of touch to connect with others, heal, provide nourishing love and presence. Of course I am speaking here of safe, respectful and consensual human touch and connection.  Some individuals are not comfortable with touch.  Also, during the transition to the end of physical life, there are times when people are in such discomfort that one must be careful when engaging not to disrupt or make things more aggravated. 

In her beautiful book Intimate Death, French psychologist, psychotherapist and palliative pioneer Marie de Hennezel speaks of being trained in haptonomy, the study of effective touch and human contact.  It has been a significant component of her work in palliative care.  We hear of the importance of this practice with pregnant women and young babies for them to thrive, but rarely in relation to those facing the end of their physical life or in the advancing, senior years.  This human need is however important within the full spectrum of life.

In my teen years I was interested in exploring the craft of acting but didn’t get involved in formal workshops until I was in my later twenties.  Acting gave me an outlet, perhaps even permission, to try on different personas in the characters I was invited to play, along with the freedom to explore a range of emotions from new perspectives.  It broadened my insight into myself and others.

In my early thirties, during my initial few years of being a hospice volunteer, I was still involved in acting on a part-time basis.  It wasn’t unusual for me to go from a shift on the palliative care unit, then shortly after, head into town for auditions that my acting agent at the time had arranged.  In the end, over the years, I only landed a few jobs mainly for commercials and small parts. It was a crossroads in my life that deepened in contrast as my hospice work became more involved.  

In an earlier blog titled “True Beauty” I speak of a sobering moment that had me face myself more honestly and sent me on a clear, new path more suited to how I was being called to serve at that time.  I loved exploring the craft of acting, but the industry itself was uncomfortable to me.

For an actor the body is the instrument to be used.  As part of the training one is encouraged to become more somatically aware.  Movement (dance), voice, emotional fluidity, full body and psychological awareness are all elements to a greater level of discovery and engagement within the craft.

To deepen this awareness at one point I took a series of workshops in which we spent three hours at a time somatically engaged in exploring our bodies.  The requirement was to arrive with the simplicity of oneself void of the outer trappings.  No make up or jewellery, a simple, plain leotard and nothing more.  Then the instructor guided us, slowly, gently, into an awareness of different body parts.  Somatically to feel into what that part of the body was inviting us to discover.  Starting with the head, face, the eyebrows, eyes, lips/mouth, neck, etc.  Then into the full body experience.  Taking time to stop at each body part, listening and feeling into it for insight.  Though I had taken ballet lessons when I was young, this was different, more fluid.  Inviting all the senses to discover. Beyond held positions and posturing.

At one point the teacher invited us to enter our hands.  When I held my hands in front of me and moved my attention into them, I was completely overwhelmed with images, sensations and memories.  I am a deeply tactile person.  Feeling life through the senses is natural.  Memory upon memory came flooding in.  All the hands I had held in my hospice work to nurture, give solace, serve and sooth.  Woven in were the comforting hugs to so many after a loss or just prior in tender moments.  Also, endless connections and memories through my hands within my own personal life overtook me. 

It is so hard to explain an experience that took on an ineffable quality.  It was like my hands glowed with light, love and care.  I had not seen nor felt the depth of how they had been such a tender conduit for deep service and love in my life before this moment.  Images of patients and their families resurfaced in my heart and mind.  The times I had sat at bedside and simply held a hand, to calm.  It was so moving.  Tears welled up in my eyes.  Writing this I remember that moment of awareness with such clarity and still am in quiet awe.  As per the teacher’s instructions I stayed fully with the moment.  It was life changing and I was able to share the experience with others in the class at the end of the guided exploration we had each been invited into.

  Protocols may be different now, but when I was in a formal position during my professional hospice years, I had what I called “spa baskets” made up.  Some of the trained hospice volunteers would walk around to the palliative/hospice patient’s rooms and offer the prospect of a simple hand and/or foot massage with unscented creams.  These were not professional massages (though they were given instructions for safety prior to offering the service) rather simple, soothing touch to the hands and feet.  The palliative and hospice patients loved it.  The volunteers were amazed at how popular this became.  Often when people are dying family and friends can be afraid to get close or are slightly intimidated to continue with gentle connection through touch as the body is becoming more frail.  The nurses would often ask the volunteers to go into a room if a patient was anxious and by this simple act, combined with quiet listening, a patient would settle and fall off to sleep.  It was a true gift for many.

On the reciprocal end, regarding touch, after my husband died one of the things I deeply missed was holding his hand and that human, tactile connection.  To a depth I wasn’t expecting.  It was several years before I was ready to date again and was not at all interested in a superficial connection.  Though I did have a beautiful German Shepherd to keep me company (until she passed) it was not the same.  So, I often booked massages at a local spa just to experience touch, in a gentle way to sooth and calm my body.  Especially when I was still working (years ago) in a full-time position with a hospice society.  However, it wasn’t until becoming a widow that I realized how much my body would miss and ache to be held and touched again.  I have heard of other widows and widowers who did the same.  Not ready yet for another relationship but needing that tender human connection through touch, booking massages.  For some, pets can fill the void.  Yet for me the absolute privilege of holding the hand of someone you love, or sharing a nurturing hug was deepened in my awareness.  It can be taken so easily for granted until it is gone.

This writing is a reminder to us all, of the gift of touch, tactile nuance and the senses in general.  For those with illness or disabilities effecting touch, other senses may become more pronounced and offer a different avenue of discovery for connection. 

In a world that is moving more into the head and intellectual realm of discovery, it is my intention (in my own life), in the coming days and weeks, to return once again to an even greater awareness of the gift of my hands as a conduit for loving service and connection to others.  Once again deepening my gratitude for all they have offered to enrich my experience of life in meaningful ways. 

Photo courtesy of artawkrn from Unsplash free photos