Huggage
I wanna talk about hugging.
That’s right. Even though today’s that day that, we’ve been told – over and over – is going to be an Election Day like no other here in the US, I want to talk about hugging.
Yup.
After a campaign season that feels like it’s gone on since, jeez, January 20, 2017 – mostly because it has – I want to discuss the finer points of huggage.
Posting weekly articles and podcast episodes on FB, Twitter and LinkedIn being exceptions, I’ve been more off “the socials” than on for the past few months…
I know my propensity for getting pulled down dark Facebookian rabbit holes, and as political frictions ceaselessly heated up the already weird (mostly hot) air of the social mediasphere, I took a few long, intentional steps back.
It didn’t hurt.
I swear.
In the last week or so I started making my way – slowly, cautiously – back.
Just yesterday an elementary school friend posted an old local newspaper “School News” article she’s saved for the better part of five decades. It was about a boy/girl debate that I have no recollection of, that – who knew – may have been my very first post-birth announcement press appearance.
Something about it set some pandemically-induced poignancy gears turning and, within seconds, there I stood before my computer, reminiscing about how one of my dearest friends from the way-back days still has a way of keeping me honest…
And, spontaneous streams of thought being unconcerned about spilling over their banks, all that somehow connected to hugs…
Which I am woefully missing these days…
Which in turn led me to posting this on the Book of Face:
“I’m not exactly sure when it happened, but somehow I gained a reputation as an itinerant, masterful hugger.
The itinerant part slipped away, as did the actual huggage – you know, 2020 being what it’s been – and as I spent the weekend teaching an online course for CTI, it became heart-achingly clear how much I miss hugging “my” people…”
I know I’m not alone here – and I imagine huggologists are going to have plenty of data to pore over once people who live in separate homes are able to safely embrace one another again. Meanwhile, it continues to be a long, cold, painfully dry spell out here in the hugless hinterlands.
I learned the “three-breath” hug from author, poet, professional colleague and men’s work maven Sean Casey Leclaire. It works like this:
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Let the intended hugee know that, in the realm of hugs, this is somewhat of a commitment…
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Both parties have feet flat and planted on the floor – no tip-toes…
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Arms wrap around one another as if you’re both birds wrapping each other in your wings…
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Just hold one another while you take three slow, long, deep breaths…
There are a few “don’t do these things” in the mix as well:
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No back-pats or buddy-slaps – just hold the hug for the full three breaths…
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Don’t stand back two feet and/or poke your tail out pretending to be a flying buttress – pun fully intended – as if you were holding up a gothic cathedral. This ain’t a shoulders only thing…
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No side-hug – breathe belly to belly…
I could ramble on ad nauseum about the benefits of high-quality huggage, but I’m confident that y’all are perfectly capable of employing the interwebs to do your own research.
If you’re up for an assignment, share and practice the three-breath hug with your loved ones. If you’re not ready for the whole megillah just yet, begin with one breath, practice for a while, and let yourselves progress on to two and finally three.
After all, it’s about taking your time…
And as I mentioned earlier, I know I’m far from alone in my longing for the goodness of slowing down and the healing, connecting magic of human-to-human touch right now…
So while I’m waiting for the current conditional clouds to part, there will be huggage aplenty happening here at home with my wife and son.
I encourage you to find some willing practice partners as well…
Because maybe, just maybe – after this messiest of pandemically addled political seasons fades in the rear-view mirror – we will find the collective wisdom to embrace one another again – and maybe even for real for the first time…
In ways that – for the benefit of all and with harm to none – heal.