i wish the term ASMR, and the online community which has sprung up around it, existed when i was growing up. i wish i had heard of the idea that there are textures, sounds, and sensations which elicit a certain ingrained but inexplicable pleasure response from somewhere deep within the brain, and that this response is not only natural but even okay and human and acceptable, not disgusting and shameful.
a few months ago i went to an exhibit at the design museum in london called “weird sensation feels good”, where i dove more deeply into ASMR than i ever had previously. i had read about ASMR in a couple of lengthy, cerebral articles but never gave it too much thought; i’d never immersed myself in it, testing various triggers on myself to find out which ones elicit a tingly, goosebump-y response and which ones i am more indifferent towards. visiting the exhibit felt something like window shopping at a mall where each of the storefronts are specifically designed to tickle your pleasure receptors. i lay down in one of the squishy, brain-shaped cotton pillows in the middle of a large room and watched youtube videos of a bichon frise getting a haircut, bjork talking about the insides of her tv and a woodcarver memorializing his old mentor as he chipped and shaved away at a wooden block. each of the videos was pleasing to varying degrees, but i derived the greatest satisfaction from knowing that no matter which video i liked best, it was perfectly okay to like all of them. one of my last stops at the exhibit was a small alcove filled with suspended microphones and headsets. i pulled a headset over my ears and laughed gleefully as i listened to a stranger next to me wordlessly stroke one of the microphones with a soft makeup brush. our interaction felt - miraculously - safe, even wholesome.
when i was younger, i loved the feeling of mud and sand and tree bark and human skin (especially scabs and the dry skin on elbows and knees) against the pads of my fingers and underneath my fingernails. it was a feeling of fullness, of being connected to things. my parents thought this tactile behavior was strange and unhealthy and admonished me against touching certain things, especially not my scabs and especially not in public. after i caught chickenpox from touching my older sister’s face while she was infected, they warned me that I’d get permanent scars if i scratched at my scabs. they were right, of course, but i wish they had spent just a tad less energy on prevention and instead given me some wiggle room to explore the map of my skin, to discover and acknowledge those things which felt good to me - however bizarre and strange and socially inexplicable they may have seemed.
weird sensation feels good
Oh so great! We must be skin-kin. ALso, upon reading the first paragraph I thought "oh i will include a link to the Bjork tv video in my comment," and then you brought it up haha!!