I’m assuming most of you have heard of the “Love Languages” personality test – discovering how you primarily express and interpret love through one of five key means: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Receiving Gifts, Acts of Service, or Physical Touch. The first time I was asked to identify my primary love language was when I was a Resident Assistant in college, during one of our staff meetings. I knew right off the bat that Physical Touch was mine, but I felt awkward about sharing this and lied. I never really thought much of that lie, as all four other languages applied to me in some way. But the difficulty to express my need for physical touch was pre-existing and remains a struggle for me.
I don’t know much about child psychology and development, so the details are fuzzy on why and when my need for physical connection started. My family wasn’t ever really touchy-feely. We would occasionally give each other hugs and, up until awkward Junior-High Jessie refused to let him, my Dad tucked me into bed and gave me a kiss on the cheek every night. But we weren’t a “cuddly” or “kissy” family, and I certainly never was with my siblings. I was, however, always movement-oriented – dancing, skipping, singing, digging in the dirt, enthusiastic finger-painting, etc. It felt natural to express myself and “work things out” physically. But my movement has always been introspective and solitary; it wasn’t until I began dancing in high school that I really felt the need to share movement and contact with other people, and I’ve never really learned how to ask for it.
I think part of the difficulty came from my surrounding Christian culture. I think there is a tendency for Christians to shy away from physical touch for fear of being misunderstood and having contact interpreted as an inappropriate violation of boundaries, especially between members of the opposite sex. It used to make me laugh to read notes on “front hugs” vs. “side hugs” and overhear conversations between students on my floor discussing the various stages of a relationship when holding hands, cuddling and kissing were permissible, if ever. It’s not surprising, considering the amount of publicity given to sexual misconduct within the Church, but I think we can often go beyond being cautious to becoming paranoid. I cannot tell you how many times I heard talks on sexuality and the importance of purity during Chapel services or group Bible studies, without ever acknowledging the need that human beings have to be touched, and explaining how to nurture that need in a way that honors and encourages each other. We were consistently taught about the dangers of physical contact, but rarely about its opportunities for safety and comfort.
For me, physical contact is a reminder of someone’s presence in my life. Sometimes words just fall flat when you are in pain – you can talk about a problem until you’re blue in the face, but it’s not until someone stops and gives me a hug that I begin to believe they actually empathize with me. Not everyone may be at a place where physical contact is healing for them, especially if they have experienced related trauma. I too have found seeking out physical connection to be really hard; it’s been a slow journey from awkwardness to openness. But for me, it is because I have experienced abusive physical contact that positive, loving contact is so important to me. I can feel God’s love for me in profound ways during those moments.
I recently tried Contact Improv for the first time, and I think it is a dance form that was born for people like me, as its primary feature is close, unrestricted physical contact between dancers. The dance plays with gravity and shared body weight, while constantly maintaining a point of contact between dancers. While the mechanics of this dance form help to develop trust between dancers and provide some fun play time with physics, the philosophical roots of this dance form are what I find so strongly attractive. Its focus is on safety and human connection; dancer John Bainbridge describes it as, “A place where people feel safe. Safe to explore their bodies, their relationship to gravity, and their relationship to other bodies.” The movement is entirely improvised, so dancers are encouraged to pay attention to their comfort levels and only do what feels safe and comfortable for them. When I went to my first class on Contact Improv, the instructor explained that we are each responsible for taking care of our own bodies, and thus remaining aware of both verbal and nonverbal communication between dancers is very important. This process allows me to explore my boundaries, a truly therapeutic and “soul-searching” experience. When I walked out of my first class, I felt rejuvenated in body, mind, and spirit, having had a chance to express my needs to others around me, as well as to God.
I think the beauty of becoming more aware of your “love language” is the invitation you give God to express his love. God speaks to us in languages we are familiar with. It might seem contradictory to believe that God - a spiritual being - could connect with human beings in a physical way, but I fully believe he does. Jesus Christ was continually in physical contact with people as a means of healing and service, and the early church believers continued his ministries of touching and healing. For me, God’s expression of physical love occurs through dance, through contact with other people, and through experiences I can best describe as subtle “pulses” that go through my body when I know God’s truth and beauty. It’s important to pay attention to those experiences that make us feel alive and loved, which is why I plan to return to the Contact Improv classroom and see what other weird and wonderful ways I can show love and receive love through that special body-mind connection.
I don’t know much about child psychology and development, so the details are fuzzy on why and when my need for physical connection started. My family wasn’t ever really touchy-feely. We would occasionally give each other hugs and, up until awkward Junior-High Jessie refused to let him, my Dad tucked me into bed and gave me a kiss on the cheek every night. But we weren’t a “cuddly” or “kissy” family, and I certainly never was with my siblings. I was, however, always movement-oriented – dancing, skipping, singing, digging in the dirt, enthusiastic finger-painting, etc. It felt natural to express myself and “work things out” physically. But my movement has always been introspective and solitary; it wasn’t until I began dancing in high school that I really felt the need to share movement and contact with other people, and I’ve never really learned how to ask for it.
I think part of the difficulty came from my surrounding Christian culture. I think there is a tendency for Christians to shy away from physical touch for fear of being misunderstood and having contact interpreted as an inappropriate violation of boundaries, especially between members of the opposite sex. It used to make me laugh to read notes on “front hugs” vs. “side hugs” and overhear conversations between students on my floor discussing the various stages of a relationship when holding hands, cuddling and kissing were permissible, if ever. It’s not surprising, considering the amount of publicity given to sexual misconduct within the Church, but I think we can often go beyond being cautious to becoming paranoid. I cannot tell you how many times I heard talks on sexuality and the importance of purity during Chapel services or group Bible studies, without ever acknowledging the need that human beings have to be touched, and explaining how to nurture that need in a way that honors and encourages each other. We were consistently taught about the dangers of physical contact, but rarely about its opportunities for safety and comfort.
For me, physical contact is a reminder of someone’s presence in my life. Sometimes words just fall flat when you are in pain – you can talk about a problem until you’re blue in the face, but it’s not until someone stops and gives me a hug that I begin to believe they actually empathize with me. Not everyone may be at a place where physical contact is healing for them, especially if they have experienced related trauma. I too have found seeking out physical connection to be really hard; it’s been a slow journey from awkwardness to openness. But for me, it is because I have experienced abusive physical contact that positive, loving contact is so important to me. I can feel God’s love for me in profound ways during those moments.
I recently tried Contact Improv for the first time, and I think it is a dance form that was born for people like me, as its primary feature is close, unrestricted physical contact between dancers. The dance plays with gravity and shared body weight, while constantly maintaining a point of contact between dancers. While the mechanics of this dance form help to develop trust between dancers and provide some fun play time with physics, the philosophical roots of this dance form are what I find so strongly attractive. Its focus is on safety and human connection; dancer John Bainbridge describes it as, “A place where people feel safe. Safe to explore their bodies, their relationship to gravity, and their relationship to other bodies.” The movement is entirely improvised, so dancers are encouraged to pay attention to their comfort levels and only do what feels safe and comfortable for them. When I went to my first class on Contact Improv, the instructor explained that we are each responsible for taking care of our own bodies, and thus remaining aware of both verbal and nonverbal communication between dancers is very important. This process allows me to explore my boundaries, a truly therapeutic and “soul-searching” experience. When I walked out of my first class, I felt rejuvenated in body, mind, and spirit, having had a chance to express my needs to others around me, as well as to God.
I think the beauty of becoming more aware of your “love language” is the invitation you give God to express his love. God speaks to us in languages we are familiar with. It might seem contradictory to believe that God - a spiritual being - could connect with human beings in a physical way, but I fully believe he does. Jesus Christ was continually in physical contact with people as a means of healing and service, and the early church believers continued his ministries of touching and healing. For me, God’s expression of physical love occurs through dance, through contact with other people, and through experiences I can best describe as subtle “pulses” that go through my body when I know God’s truth and beauty. It’s important to pay attention to those experiences that make us feel alive and loved, which is why I plan to return to the Contact Improv classroom and see what other weird and wonderful ways I can show love and receive love through that special body-mind connection.
