Free hugs
"Jumping dolphin" by Randy Ruby. Honorable mention
by T.J. Olwig
“Brothers don’t shake hands. Brothers gotta hug” – Chris Farley, Tommy Boy
It’s not easy to put yourself out there. Even this one page article carries a bit of hesitancy, not much, but just enough to possibly hold someone back. Do I write from my head or do I listen to my heart? I’ve chosen the latter.
If you were to tell me a few years back that I’d be holding a “Free Hugs” poster along the southern California coast (with a T-shirt reading “BOULDER”), I possibly would have dropped dead. I would have assumed one of the following things: Either I was on drugs. Lots of them. Or I had lost a bet. A really bad bet.
Believe it or not though, the muse was voluntary, enacted on behalf of my God-given (nature-given, Universe-given, source-given, whatever you may) ability to choose. I witnessed the gesture on multiple occasions during visits toNew York Cityand graciously participated in the operation. What a simple, yet profound idea. I loved it. One day, I would do the same.
That day came this past Sunday inHermosa Beachat25th Streetand The Strand. My morning nerves dissipated quickly when my brother and I decided to keep it simple. All we were doing was “sharing love.” That’s it. And that was our response to everyone’s question of “Why?” That coupled with a layer of my innate sarcasm, “Well, why not?” Aside from “sharing love,” Free Hugs was about taking action. It was about showing up, even with extreme malaise.
In the spirit of “truly” giving, there was no attachment to the outcome. There was nothing to take personally from the critical stares, glares, snide comments, laughter, and questions of our sexual orientation. I knew the idea held a higher purpose and that was enough. By expressing more of myself, I’d open the door for others to do the same. Plus, the other end of that spectrum held a much more powerful element: the beauty of the human spirit. A spirit filled with genuine gratitude, pure smiles, and a willingness to love.
The most rewarding part of all was the diversity the experience held. Some hugs came with one hand. Some hugs came with both. Some hugs were drive-bys and some were feature films. Some came instantly. Some came delayed. There was “Immediate Response Lady” and “Immediate Tears Lady.” I had a sweaty hug and an international hug. There was a “thank you,” a “God bless you,” and even an “I love you.” One child read “Free Bugs,” while a skateboarder thought “Free Drugs.” Most came from women, but there were a few brave men. Each was unique, yet each was the same. They all felt good. Really. Freaking. Good. The sign said “free,” but most I would have paid for.
“Free Hugs” proved a success in part to the genuineSouthBayresidents. Research indicates we need four hugs a day for survival, eight for maintenance and 12 for growth. If we desire to grow, that means we need 12 hugs every 24 hour period. To most, these stats carry a level of ambiguity, but my level of truth does not. These are facts I lived. On Sunday, July 10th, 2011, by giving I received. By giving, I grew.