2?

Ask any person and they’ll tell you five. The average individual has five fairly functional senses. While I am not going to dispute this statement, I’ve come to realize that for all these years, I’ve skirted by on two. This is not to sound ungrateful for my ability to see the finish line before me, to take note of the inflection in my favorite country song, to feel the shoulder of the person next to me beneath my hand, to smell the sweet fragrance of gingersnaps and goodness knows I do not take for granted my ability to taste them. However, since I have been here, I have become acutely aware of my “handicap” and consequential hindered ability to interpret my surroundings.
I knew it all along, but perhaps could not completely understand the extent to which I relied on the sense of human touch, and the sense of emotive expression until they were in short supply. There are few things that can parallel being wrapped up within the personal space between someone’s two arms. It is such a perfectly genuine expression of love. Not that this place isn’t full of love, but to feel comfortable enough to invade another’s boundary of security, and to let them in turn break through yours requires a mutual sense of love and trust that I think I have yet to find. These things take time. Relationships don’t just happen, but require cultivation and devotion. Creating a comfort zone demands an extensive amount of patience and discomfort. Of all the things that I miss here, being deprived of the human touch that came so abundantly and naturally at home is perhaps what I crave the most. Being able to hug someone because it’s the only way you know how to show them how beautiful they are….not having to think twice about a cultural taboo before or after shaking someone’s hand…..not having to determine whether someone else’s touch is inseparable from some ulterior motive….deriving strength from the blatant defiance of all biological principles – an immediate transference no simpler than through a point of contact….
And at those moments of pure vulnerability, or even ecstasy, I know no other outlet than through my emotions. However, Chuukese culture does not find the same gratification in the expression of emotion. That is not to say stoicism is the norm, as they are very animated, but when it comes to the manifestation of grief, or joy, I feel as though there is a discrepancy between they way they experience the world, and the extremes through which I have been accustomed to absorbing life. Thus, I often find myself suppressing tears, hiding stares of amazement, or stifling outbursts of excitement. I know that in time, I will find a medium through which to release all that is pent up within, but to be honest, I don’t want to compromise.