“Brothers don’t shake hands.  Brothers gotta hug!”
– Chris Farley, Tommy Boy
love

It’s not easy to put yourself out there.  It never is.  And because of that, many people hide, ignoring their truth, choosing to play it safe.  Even these words can carry 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?  In the best interest of both my writing and the reader, I’ve chosen the latter.

If you were to tell me a few years back that I’d be holding a “Free Hugs” sign along the southern California coast (with a t-shirt reading “BOULDER”), I may have dropped dead.  I would’ve assumed one of the following things:  Either I was on drugs.  Lots of them.   Or I’d lost a bet.  A really shitty bet.

But believe it or not, 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 to New York City and graciously participated in the operation. What a simple, yet profound idea.  I loved it.  One day, I would reciprocate.

That day came recently on The Strand (a busy beachside walkway) in Hermosa Beach, California.  My morning nerves dissipated quickly when my brother and I decided our purpose was 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 thick 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.
Some were feature films.

Some came instant.
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.  Fucking.  Good.  The sign said “free,” but most I would have paid for.

“Free Hugs” proved a tremendous success due to the abundant and extraordinary courage of all its participants. It also helped to have a golden stallion of a Labrador retriever sitting by my side wearing a sign that offered “Free Sniffs.”

Research indicates we need four hugs a day for survival, eight for maintenance and twelve for growth.  If we desire to grow, that means we need twelve hugs every twenty-four hour period.

To most, these stats may carry a level of ambiguity, but my level of truth does not.  These are facts I lived.  On Sunday, July 10^th, 2011, by giving I received.  And by giving, I grew.

love