Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Living a sensual life

I consider myself a sensual person. Merriman-Webster's definition of the word is "relating to or consisting in the gratification of the senses."

I see it more as an awareness of color, smell, taste, touch, sound to enrich my life.

It is being thrilled when I bite into a juicy plum. I shared some this week with my landlords and they returned my bowl with fresh cherries. Not only do the cherries taste great, their color makes my eyes happy. My tongue circles their round hardness. I roll them around in my mouth until I free the seed. It feels harder still. When I spit it out, I admire the various tones.

When I see the cherries I am reminded of the drive to Ceret in the spring where the cherries come from. We passed orchards pinkish with the blossoms. I imagine the smell, sweet, but we've never stopped. I am reminded of the apple blossom smell from the apple trees on the land I grew up on.

My patio has not only a jasmine plant, tickling my nose, a friend has given me lavender which I place on my brown wooden table that feels hot from the sun when I touch it. I inhale deeply as the two strong smells meld together creating their own perfume.

I iron my pjs. Yes, you read that right. There is a warm smell when the iron slides over the fabric and the material caresses my body more softly when I wear them. Unironed clothes have a different feel, a roughness that brings different sensations but I prefer the smooth as I snuggle in bed. On cold nights we have an electric under sheet that prewarms the bed. My muscles almost smile as the heat carasses my back and legs.

I search for color everywhere: not just flowers, but on all things that that cross my vision: cars, houses, walls, stones, animals, the different tones in my puppy's fur. This isn't deliberate. It just happens.

I enjoy the sounds of the village: The church bells, the garbage men slamming the empty bins down, the mumble of neighbors walking by, the sea gulls cry, the wheels of a suitcase as people come and go.

My husband right now is organizing and I hear the shuffle of devices and a zipper being closed. There is a distant whir of the dishwasher running.

Some may think that a bombardment of senses is distracting, but it isn't. It tells me I'm alive and life is wonderful.

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