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Sparkle (5)
The word sensual falls from lips like a silk slip slides down a body to the floor. I don't think "sex" conjures as much pleasure as "sensual." Sex doesn't have to be sensual. But sensual can be anything it likes.
sen•su•al: adj.
: relating to or consisting in the gratification of the senses or the indulgence of appetite : fleshly<
: sensory
a: devoted to or preoccupied with the senses or appetites b: voluptuous c: deficient in moral, spiritual, or intellectual interests : worldly; especially : irreligious
synonyms see carnal, sensuous
A word is like an ant, carrying the incredible weight of meaning on its back.
Photo by kedai-lelaki.
"Sensual" comes to us from the Latin sensus or sense. The senses are the body's wonderful physiological methods of perception, the main five being, of course, hearing, sight, smell, taste and touch. And yet "sensual," the word, wanders around lugging the excess baggage of a gruesome divorce—that of body, mind, and soul.
I would like to follow sensual through time and learn where it became synonymous with the deficiency in moral, spiritual, or intellectual matters. Isn't empiricism a crucial aspect of the scientific method? On what does it run if not the senses? Does walking the difficult, righteous path not require equilibrioception? And what is nociception if not the ultimate trigger of mercy? The senses, after all, bring pain as fast as they deliver pleasure.
I hold St. Augustine and maybe even Descartes nearly entirely accountable for the wall between mind, body, and soul. Even today, in an age where the West has largely been released from the obligation to religion, the vestige of this fragmentation of self persists, like terrible chasms impossible to cross.
Or perhaps it's that we still have religion, only instead of an almighty Father, now we answer to an almighty clock. Now, instead of being exhorted not to dare enjoy, we're chained to a schedule so ruthless, it permits nothing.
HIGH ART
It started with Anthony Bourdain, the celebrated chef, renowned author, world traveler and fearless sensualist. Much like the word "sensual," Bourdain conjures a colorful mixture of praise and blasphemy in the minds of those who know him or his work.
"Think of the last time food transported you," he writes in his 2001 novel A Cook's Tour.
Your first taste of champagne on a woman’s lips… steak frites when you were in Paris as a teenager with a Eurorail pass, you’d blown almost all your dough on hash in Amsterdam, and this slightly chewy slab of rumsteck (rump steak) was the first substantial meal in days… a single wild strawberry, so flavorful that it nearly took your head off… your grandmother's lasagne… a first sip of stolen ice cold beer on a hot summer night, hands smelling of crushed fireflies… left over pork fried rice, because your girlfriend at the time always seemed to have some in the fridge… steamer clams, dripping with drawn butter from your first family vacation at the Jersey shore… rice pudding from the Fort Dee Diner… bad Cantonese when you were a kid and Chinese was still exotic and wonderful and you still thought fortune cookies were fun… dirty water hot dogs… a few beads of caviar licked off a nipple...
A few beads of caviar licked off a nipple. What a simple, gorgeous celebration of touch and taste. The idea stopped me cold. I haven't been able to pick up the book since reading that. What higher glory could be found among the rest of its pages?
STOP
We stand at the edge of our senses, waiting for the sets of data to come in: hot or cold? Pleasure or pain? Nice or mean? Red or green? Too spicy? Too loud? Too big? Too slow! Hungry! Tired! When was the last time we stopped and touched something and focused on the brush against our fingertips? When was the last time we turned off the constant background noise of our iPods and pressed down on a piano key to hear the clarity of a single note? When was the last time we paused briefly before putting that snack in our mouths and committed ourselves to savoring the marriage of flavors in a bite?
OVERWHELMED
A few years ago, I went to a meditation session that involved the use of crystal bowls. These bowls are made of quartz and, according to those who indulge in the practice, each is tuned to a note that resonates with one of the chakras, the body's energy centers. The idea is that as
