Touched

So, I’ve been pondering the sensation of being touched when you’re not actually being touched. When a non-physical Something causes an involuntary physical reaction.

I’ve got some John Mayer in the CD player right now. "Your Body is a Wonderland" is set on Repeat. The song ends and I’m still catching my breath when the thrumming begins again.

(I should probably stop listening to it in the car...)

As a writer, I’m especially fascinated by physiological responses to written words:

A gasp or an adrenaline surge.

Tears.

A thumping heart or a dry mouth or dilated pupils.

A blood rush.

The funniest scenes I've written have had me laughing out loud, usually before I've typed a word.

The only sadly emotional scene I've written left me with a heavy ache in my chest.

One sex scene took me over a week to write, because I kept getting distracted...

I'm certain that in order for music or paintings or words to physically touch an audience, they must originally resonate even more deeply with their creators. And that being the case, I feel there has to be some sort of energetic connection between artist and audience.

Dunno whether there's any real Universal truth to it, but I dig the concept.