Blackout Blog: Aeons Between Seconds

The Curious Case of Touch and Value

Close your eyes and imagine me giving you a hug, that's right, I'm embracing you with all my might, wholeheartedly, right now. Feels great doesn't it? Even though I'm not really embracing you, you can still imagine it happening, you can feel it, the warmth wrapping itself around you, a chin resting on your shoulder, the musk of the person you're hugging.

It's a curious thing, we've probably never hugged but it feels like we have. What if...you've never hugged anyone...ever? What if you were a mannequin? A replica of yourself, but without any senses, nothing. How would you feel? Well...you wouldn't.

Since birth, we are acquiring knowledge based on our sensory experiences, you touch your parents' face when you're a baby so you can differentiate between other faces, you touch your food and mush it around creating a mess. But do you give the same value to the food as you give your mother's face? No. We don't value the feeling of a glove the same way we value holding a hand. So here lies the question, do we give value to things based on touch? Or do we touch things with a predisposed value? The answer is simple: Nothing in this world has value until you give it one. Everyone prioritizes their values differently.

Most things we value are tangible, but those that aren't, still touch us in different ways. Let me tell you a story of a friend I've lost.

On June 17th, 2018, I decided that I wanted to buy 2 goldfish. That night I went back home with 2 goldfish, and no thought of why I chose fish at all. I'm a physical person, I love interaction and communication, I like touching things and people, and getting a fish, out of all pets, was the furthest thing from what I like. Those 2 fish I named Tom and Jerry, like the cartoon. Fast forward to 5 months later, the day Tom takes his last breath. I had grown rather fond of those 2 fish, after all I was concerned with feeding them and cleaning their aquarium, which was the closest thing to interaction I ever had with them until that point. Seeing that one of them was gone, I didn't know how to feel... Was I sad? That's silly, who would be sad over a fish? I guess it would be best to just dispose of it, and go on with my day. But...after that day, I just couldn't look at Jerry the same way. All I could think about was:

"What if he gets lonely? Do fish get lonely?"

"Man I hope he doesn't die too, that would be a pity"

In the course of 1 day I had given those 2 fish more thought than I did over 5 months of owning them. And after 5 months and 24 hours, I had finally given my fish a value. Jerry was no longer just a fish, he was my study companion, a good listener (though he didn't say much) and most importantly, he was a friend. I started sitting in the salon just so I could listen to him swishing in the water, I would put my face close to the aquarium to see him jiggle around, and sometimes I would talk to him in hope that he'd recognize my voice. On June 15th, 2019, exactly 3 days before his first birthday, and 362 days after joining the household, Jerry gave his last tail wiggle, and passed away. And on that day, I will tell you, I cried enough tears to fill his aquarium. Why? Because I loved Jerry, I valued him, and though I never touched him, he touched me. Such a little thing had so much impact on me, because I gave it the right. Maybe he forgot I even existed every 5 minutes, maybe he couldn't see me well through all the water, but I was always there to remind him that I am there, that I care. Yes, I care about "a fish", you might laugh at the thought, and I don't blame you. Nowadays, the connection between value and touch is so distorted and undermined that we can't even imagine caring for something so small and "unimportant". We might shape our values differently, but we shouldn't deem them less, and thinking about Jerry is heart warming to me the same way a hug is heartwarming to you.

Jerry...he's gone now. But I like to think he lived a good life, that he and Tom have met again somewhere. I'll forever miss their delicate swishing.

Love the small things, value them.

Appreciate every smell, touch, sound, taste, and vision. You were born complete.

-Leen