Entry 28 - Blissful Violation of the Unwoke Soul

Massage doesn’t allow me to get close enough to the muscles. I tried out my new idea for spreading them out, a way to oxygen to flood the system to create a more euphoric/disconnected sense for healing. It seemed to work. XX fell asleep. That’s a compliment, right? Seems to imply trust and good technique.

Secrets.

The secrete is that I like touching. I like the way the oil warms with the skin. I like the way skin can be soft in one place and rough next to it. I like the fragility of hair slipping through my fingers and the way I can feel X breathe with my legs. I like molding muscle into softness and subtlety and I like the way I can hear thoughts and emotions with my hands. I spent almost an hour and a half on this today. Silly girl.

I have to respect a perfectly placed word. Something that is perfect in connotation, imagery, and intent has a symmetry that is genuinely beautiful—I can even respect X’s speeches (when he hits that perfect note), it’s like hitting the sweet spot of the bat where suddenly you understand and everything is effortless. It’s a visceral, complete internal understanding that is clear and perfect. A moment of blissful insight that keeps something inside you even after the words fade away. A physical touch to the inside of your soul. X says that people can recognize truth as soon as they see or hear it. Art provides that truth and almost anything can be art, even X’s lectures. The artist can find or know what word or color or shape needs to exist to trigger that key, even if it’s a lie. A little piece of truth hidden in a fiction that adds to the complex puzzle that could be our soul’s growth to enlightenment. Collecting all these keys from experience after experience is the foundation of wisdom.