Hugs are among the connections that that I respect most in the whole world. I’m not a huggy type in the sense of instinctively greeting people with hugs. In fact, I find myself in semi-shock when someone I don’t know very well hugs me ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye.’
I tend to look on in amazement at the extent to which the schoolgirls I see around and about are so giving with their hugs. I was just never like that and I can’t really remember if hugs were as trendy back in my schooldays as they are today.
However, there are times when absolutely NOTHING but a hug will do; times of happiness, sadness, reunion, frustration, celebration.
To me hugs are about as sacred as it gets ~ they are about true empathy and so deep that they say far, far more than words ever can.
For weeks now, I’ve been looking at what I see as the epitome of a hug ~ the embrace of two threads of clematis high up in the trees in Mount Congreve Garden. The hug has been getting tighter and tighter but seems, at the same time, to highlight even more the fragility and tenderness of life.
It’s at those times when we feel most fragile and tender that the hug is at its most supreme.