Beings In Touch Sun, 17th November, 2013
I begin with a confession: I am becoming a hugger. Yes, one of those. I don't care if you're a person, a dog or a tree. I will even admit that I occasionally lay hands on a rock, or let my fingers caress the grain of a carved piece of wood. I imagine I feel some ancient heartbeat or vibration that connects me to the divine, the infinite.
The need for human touch is a powerful need among us primates. We fill our heads with notions instilled by contemporary society that touching others is often inappropriate. And of course in certain circumstances we must respect personal boundaries. But the need for physical contact is universal and should not be strictly equated with sexual intimacy. I feel energized by physical interaction and haven't realized until lately how much I have been craving that. How many of us have put ourselves, or been put by others, into glass cages. We see and hear each other, but are still cut off, isolated, alone.
The Taoist philosopher I'm fond of quoting (thanks to Betsy) writes of the universality of our human desire for union. This is true of an infant who craves the cuddling of her parents, the lover who craves the touch of his beloved, the lonely person who wants to be reminded of the sustaining power of human friendship, the worshipper who touches the idols in a HIndu shrine and so touches universal truths.
Our craving begins at birth, if not in utero. As so many of us have heard, and as some have directly experienced, babies who are not touched and cuddled will often fail to thrive, become withdrawn and listless, even die. Perhaps it's true there is a spark of the divine in each of us, and our touch transmits this power like some kind of life-giving electric love.
A handshake is perhaps the most common form of human-to-human contact. A slow, warm hand-squeeze matched with sincere eye contact can go a long way to satisfying this need for union. The stereotypical macho iron grip, paired with vigorous arm pumping, is perhaps much less satisfying to me because it seems to be more about competition than communion. Let them call my handshakes effeminate if they want. My purpose is to let the energy flow. It's already there and doesn't need to be generated mechanically.
I've read about studies that report even the very slightest, casual touch from a cashier or librarian can positively affect our perception of that person or institution. In more than one choir I've sung in, we start rehearsals by rubbing each other's necks and shoulders—to loosen us up for singing but also to create the bonding that is necessary to attune our breathing and voices with those of our companions.
Human touch, when approached from this spiritual perspective, becomes a form of worship, a way of tapping into that great flow of divine energy that swirls within and among us. It's a way of putting ourselves into the midst of that stream, feeling it surging and pulsing through us, bathing us in warm contentment and a sense of belonging.
So don't shrink away when I come to hug you or take your hand. It's just me taking the pulse of the universe.
I begin with a confession: I am becoming a hugger. Yes, one of those. I don't care if you're a person, a dog or a tree. I will even admit that I occasionally lay hands on a rock, or let my fingers caress the grain of a carved piece of wood. I imagine I feel some ancient heartbeat or vibration that connects me to the divine, the infinite.
The need for human touch is a powerful need among us primates. We fill our heads with notions instilled by contemporary society that touching others is often inappropriate. And of course in certain circumstances we must respect personal boundaries. But the need for physical contact is universal and should not be strictly equated with sexual intimacy. I feel energized by physical interaction and haven't realized until lately how much I have been craving that. How many of us have put ourselves, or been put by others, into glass cages. We see and hear each other, but are still cut off, isolated, alone.
The Taoist philosopher I'm fond of quoting (thanks to Betsy) writes of the universality of our human desire for union. This is true of an infant who craves the cuddling of her parents, the lover who craves the touch of his beloved, the lonely person who wants to be reminded of the sustaining power of human friendship, the worshipper who touches the idols in a HIndu shrine and so touches universal truths.
Our craving begins at birth, if not in utero. As so many of us have heard, and as some have directly experienced, babies who are not touched and cuddled will often fail to thrive, become withdrawn and listless, even die. Perhaps it's true there is a spark of the divine in each of us, and our touch transmits this power like some kind of life-giving electric love.
A handshake is perhaps the most common form of human-to-human contact. A slow, warm hand-squeeze matched with sincere eye contact can go a long way to satisfying this need for union. The stereotypical macho iron grip, paired with vigorous arm pumping, is perhaps much less satisfying to me because it seems to be more about competition than communion. Let them call my handshakes effeminate if they want. My purpose is to let the energy flow. It's already there and doesn't need to be generated mechanically.
I've read about studies that report even the very slightest, casual touch from a cashier or librarian can positively affect our perception of that person or institution. In more than one choir I've sung in, we start rehearsals by rubbing each other's necks and shoulders—to loosen us up for singing but also to create the bonding that is necessary to attune our breathing and voices with those of our companions.
Human touch, when approached from this spiritual perspective, becomes a form of worship, a way of tapping into that great flow of divine energy that swirls within and among us. It's a way of putting ourselves into the midst of that stream, feeling it surging and pulsing through us, bathing us in warm contentment and a sense of belonging.
So don't shrink away when I come to hug you or take your hand. It's just me taking the pulse of the universe.
