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Holding.

It’s so powerful. It’s so simple. It’s so deep.

Just holding.

Holding someone can be a sacred experience. It’s a meditation on the body, on the warmth, on the texture of the skin, and what’s beneath the skin—the blood that flows, the muscles that move, and even in rest, the breath that rises and releases.

Holding.

Holding someone.

Holding their hands, their feet, their face. Holding someone against your chest, your breast.

It drops us both into stillness, into quiet.

It drops us into a presence that can take us down, deeper, deeper, into the stillness of being—into the pulsation of life.

I’ve been teaching, exploring, experiencing, and learning about touch for over 25 years. For so many of us, as soon as our hands are on a body, we feel we need to move—to stroke, to caress, to massage.

And one of the most powerful elements of touch is holding.

Not moving.

Just holding.

Resting your hands on their body, on their skin.

Softening into the touch, into ourselves, and into each other.

There’s a union in this touch—a coming to oneness in the softening of holding.

There is safety in holding—a safety in being held. A place for us to let go, to drop, to release, to soften. There’s a way for us to experience ourselves, and each other, in holding that is different from the movement of touch.

In the stillness, there’s a conversation that allows what’s deep inside of us to rise, to be met, seen, and heard with inner eyes and inner ears.

In the stillness, I’m able to feel the pulse of life within you.

In the stillness, it’s as if my hands can sink into you.

In the stillness, we can drop beyond stimulation and into being—being in touch and being in the sensation of touch, of holding, and of being held.

In a world of constant and increasing stimulation, the way we touch becomes a part of that. We want more, we want harder, faster, more. Sexually, sensually, and in pleasure—we want more, deeper, quicker. It creates a disconnect.

A disconnect from ourselves and from the deeper places inside of us.

In stillness and in holding, intimacy waits for us. And as we hold the body, we meet ourselves.

Holding is also the space from which movement arises. And from the stillness, the movement is not patterned. It is not conditioned. It flows from the moment—from the place of connection. The movement is the expression of the intimacy of holding.

It is the movement of possibility. Holding is the space of possibility.

There is healing in holding, releasing, softening, and opening.

By simply being held, we’re able to let go. We’re able to feel.

Healing is not doing, it’s allowing. And in being held, we allow ourselves.

Holding is becoming a bigger part of my work and teaching. In Water Flow Massage, which largely inspired this piece. In Kashmiri Massage, in Earth Massage, in Taoist Massage, and so many other ways.

There’s a simplicity in holding. And we often struggle with simplicity. We struggle against simplicity. And yet, the body knows.

In the safety, in the warmth, in feeling your heart close to me, so much happens.

In being held.

I often talk about how much there is in giving and receiving, and in this space, holding another is a meditation on awareness and presence.

It drops me into myself. It drops me into intimacy. A deep, peaceful, and beautiful expression of holding is Yab Yum breathing.

Create a space, a sanctuary, with any of the elements that are important to you. Be warm, so you can be present.

Look into a partner’s eyes.

Breathe.

When you’re ready, sit in Yab Yum.

One of you sits cross-legged and the other sits on their partner’s lap and wraps their arms and legs around them.

Settle into the position. Settle into being comfortable.

Feel every place your skin touches theirs.

Breathe.

And drop into the stillness.

Of holding.

Of being held.

Drop into each other. Drop into the timeless moment.