The skin is just the skin. It is somebody else’s skin and you are afraid to touch it. You are afraid to throw yourself onto it fully.
When I started my MMA training it took me out of my comfort zone. The difficult part was not pushups, or squats, or armbars. The difficult part was to be close to a man and fight with him. Body to body, chest to chest, your elbow tight under his neck, your chin ducked into his right hip, you face smashed against his stomach. And nobody ever talks about it. It is like a tabu.
It was so uncomfortable that I continued doing it. It went being uncomfortable for months. Till this morning I realized I like fighting with my skin. You can not fight if you do not put your full body into it. You can not fight if you are squeamish about touching the other body. You have to welcome the body touch.
There is nothing sensual to it. There is nothing sexual. There is no withdrawing. There is no blocking your emotions. There is no frontier. There is simply living. By touching other body we accept ours. Martial arts is an art of touching other body with ours. And applying pressure to it.
Later today I was walking inside of a museum. There were Rodin statues. Whether there two bodies were embracing in a kiss or fighting against the winds of hell the essence was in the body touch. Skin touched skin, muscles touched muscles. Pressure momentum between two bodies. How else would he be able to show life otherwise? Faces are poor outlets of our truest and strongest emotions.