Living Skin Deep

Until I googled it this morning, I can't say for sure that I knew we had three layers of skin.  Sure, there's the epidermis.  Everyone knows about it.  But the lesser knowns--the dermis and hypodermis--share a wonderful word that their more popular cousin can't lay claim to:  connective.  In fact, the epidermis could be called the antithesis of connectivity, acting more as a barrier than a bridge.

Seems to me I've sloughed my epidermis altogether, because my life these days feels stunningly barrier-free and seeped in connectivity.

Be warned.  Life without the epidermis is not for sissies.  Spiritually autistic now, I am hypersensitive to signs--both real and perceived. Moved by the smallest things.  Watching my mom apply makeup, for instance. And yesterday, as I lay on the hammock, being showered by the pink petals of our crab apple tree, I felt myself become a part of the very earth.  This morning, bone tired, a hidden flock of cedar waxwings whispered to me from the treetops and I made Finn wait with me, knowing they'd eventually take flight and reveal themselves to us.  Some things, it seems, can only be known as they leave us.

This oil-and-vinegar swirl of life I find myself in these days is better lived without the shield of epidermis.  Even as I type these words, my legs buzz with secret messages that transmute me.  And if I listen hard enough, if I keep my eyes and my mind wide open, it's possible I will discover the secrets of this life, held close in this skin that connects me.