Sandra Campbell
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About Touch


​Touch. Touching. Touched. 

We’re sensate beings, each of us hard-wired to take in what’s outside us, what’s other. Our eyes, ears, nose, tongue, skin offer us ways that connect us to each other, to the earth and to our place on it.  

Touch engages our bodies, outside and in. Consider our hearts ever-responding—growing, shrinking, racing, skipping. And our minds, that mysterious intangible that lets us tell ourselves what a certain smell means, a sight or sound, a particular sensation on the skin. Memory fuels this process so we can go about our days making meaning, and weaving the unique tapestry of our life. It’s all about feeling whole, body and soul. 

To feel whole is great—they say its health, yet here’s the sticky bit: each life is full of ruptures beginning with our first one when we’re pushed from our mother’s womb and propelled into the world.  Then, flailing and homeless, our eyes, ears, mouth, skin pull us into merging again. 

If we’re lucky enough we enter into a symbiotic bubble with our mothers, our first love and bond again. The energy that drives this bonding is love—it’s a pulse in the universe, all around, if only we can see. Bonded, we continue to grow until another rupture—a blooming of sorts and we burst out. First we crawl, then we walk but not in straight lines. Instead we move in ever widening circles each one superseding the other. The centre point of the circle is our first loves whose memory is imprinted in our cells as a constant pulse, mirrored in the drumming of our hearts. This pulse stretches always the circles of our life. 

Life is the energy that causes rupture; life is the energy that seeks repair. 

                                                            And life?

Is envelope of air 
                           spirit of wind 
                                         breath
                                           
                
                                           Is current of river 

                                                                  wiggle of worm
                                                                                   warmth of sun
                                                                                                                               
   
                                                                                                       Is rhythm of hearts, beating 

                                                                                                                                          drumming of grouse 
                                                                                                                                                                 pounding of surf 

​Is murmur of jackpine 
                       rustle of maple leaves
                                                 ribet of frog 
                                                               
                 
                                                               Is velvet of skin 

                                                                                   sticky grit of sand 
                                                                                                         slip-slidiness of eel
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                                                                                                                                   Is sunlight 
                                                                                                                                         captured in wine 
                                                                                                                                                              sparkling on water
                                                                                                                                                                                    tasted on tongues
                                                             Is lover’s kiss at first light

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