I’m a hugger.
Hug me, and I love it.
You need a hug? You know who to come to.
Hugging is in my genes. In my family, we’re loud, we laugh, we cook, we sing, we hug. Not much personal space needed in my crew. We kind of mix it all together and get – a symphony. Sometimes it’s gorgeous music. Other times – not so much. But no matter how cacophonous it is, I love it.
With my family’s norm, I know that I can come across to some as “too much” – I don’t mean to. I just love a good hug so much that I like to pass it along. To pay it forward. To grant some little bit of strength or cheer or support to somebody with a simple gesture that has brought a lot of goodness my way.
To be honest, a hug grants a little bit of peace to my soul. It’s like music that resonates within the core of me. I relate to Thomas Carlyle’s words:
“All deep things are song. It seems somehow the very central essence of us, song; as if all the rest were but wrappages and hulls!”
I guess that, to me, a hug can be “deep.”
Each of us reacts to different stimuli. Artwork may be our emotional/ spiritual draw. Dancing might be our outlet and the creative art that we love. Some find it in writing. Others in — well, it could be just about anything that is good.
I’m thinking that maybe there are lots of things that resonate in my soul — and it resonates as if it were music. Some kind of wonderful, magical, symphony that speaks to the core of me.
I found a short story that beautifully illustrates my train of thought:
“Hug Me!” [by Robert Parks]
It was there waiting for me. I knew the moment I walked up to it, that I had to connect.
“Hug me!” the small sign read on the teddy bear. So I did. Music played. A wonderful melody unlike any other I’ve ever heard before.
“I didn’t think that worked anymore,” someone said. She startled me.
“I didn’t think anyone was around,” I said, smiling. I felt foolish standing there hugging a bear.
“That’s been sitting there for years. I don’t know why we don’t throw it out,” she said.
“I’m guessing that’s because there’s still music left inside. What a waste that would be: To throw something away that still had music left inside.”
I knew the moment I said those words, there was a point to be made here.
I’m not sure what lesson he took away, but this is what came to my heart: God knows us. He realizes that every once in a while, we may feel empty. As though there is no more music left in us. Hopelessness or fear shuts it down. Or lack of use. Or feeling set aside. Forgotten. We need somebody to take notice.
If we’re looking, even subconsciously, we may take note [pun intended ] of someone who might be feeling just this way.
He or she might need our gentle hug or some simple act of kindness in order to hear and feel their music again. Or, maybe when we help to let it out, there are folks around them who take notice once more – and recognize the beautiful music this person still has inside them. A person, like a teddy bear, might be set aside and largely left unnoticed in too many settings. Sigh… it makes me sad to think of all the beautiful music that could be playing in every circle of society, if only we could keep it alive and working!
Wouldn’t it be amazing if a simple hug could unlock the silent mp3 player inside a quiet [maybe not wanting it that way] friend? I believe that there is music left inside of us that needs to play. For want of a hug, perhaps the music has stilled. No matter how much time has passed since the melody has had airplay, it can be set loose. What if a simple hug could do that?
Some days, I do quite well with my “look out” – taking note of some sign or signal that tells me to reach out with a hug. Sometimes, I am too preoccupied with self, family, or work to take note. What a shame. My reaching out could be the very thing to awaken another soul to the music in their own.
And every once in a while I’m awfully grateful that someone sees that invisible sign hanging around my neck that must, somehow, say, “Hug Me!”.
Bless their tender heart for doing just that. It keeps the orchestra of goodness playing in my soul.