Feel Me, Touch Me, Hug Me
When my arms wrap you round I press
My heart upon the loveliness
That has long faded from the world…
-William Butler Yeats
My obsession with hugging began many years ago, when I came across a faded postcard of Sandro Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. It revealed the Roman goddess of love, swaying seductively on her shell as two zephyrs blow her ashore into the outstretched arms of her who appears to be her best girlfriend. It was the whirling embrace of the zeferi amorosi, their sweeping wings, their swirling drapery, their arms and legs impossiblyentwined, that held me in thrall. The postcard soon led me to YYZ where I hopped a plane to Frankfurt, then boarded a train to Florence where I discovered the radiance of the Renaissance and the ancestry of hugging.
My heart beat wildly as I stood in front of the famous Galleria Uffizi in Florence, with its 45 galleries and its half mile exhibition of classical paintings and sculpture. My anxiety about locating the Botticelli gallery mounted as I headed down The Vasari Corridor, lined on both sides with Roman statues-and a growing throng of art enthusiasts. Finally I reached Room 14. Botticelli’s Birth of Venus was so shockingly beautiful, so arresting, that I spent almost an hour standing there, gazing at the serene goddess and the amorously entwined zephyrs.
At last I managed to free myself from the painting’s spell, but the spell of that marvellous embrace lingered. “Do you like to hug?” I would ask everyone and anyone who would listen. I was surprised to learn how prevalent the notion was among men-that hugging is something more about love than kissing. Most of the women I talked to felt that there was something deeply gratifying about hugging, In fact, almost all the women I spoke to longed to be swept away in a lover’s arms. Ditto for me.
A hug is a hug is a hug. Right? Not so. There are passionate hugs, platonic hugs, pious hugs and playful hugs and hugs of greeting. There are congratulatory hugs and, even, insincere hugs. There are hugs that meld two bodies into one and there are hugs that cement political alliances.Our earliest memories are of our parents protective hugs.
Love is often kindled by a first hug. We seem to flow into each other’s body when we hug, we get under each other’s skin. A hug can awaken desire, it can make our skin tingle, send electric shivers all the way down the spine and lead to rapture. Hugging literally connects two people: At its purest, a hug is a symbolic fusion, a physical allegory that leads us to combine souls-to become one. In his Divina Comedia, Dante’s adulterous lovers are forever fused in a carnal embrace.
And what is a hug if not the language of the heart? In love’s vocabulary we hold, clasp, cling, press, squeeze, lock, cuddle, nuzzle, snuggle, encircle, entwine and embrace. (The word “embrace” comes from the French accolade-a”ceremonial bestowal of knighthood”, which was originally given to a knight when dubbing him.). The O symbol is said to represent the open arms of a hug.
It turns out that a romantic hug is a highly intricate movement. When we embrace, the muscles of our shoulders and back come into play, our blood pressure increases. We sweat. Out skin glows with a euphoric flush. Scientific studies show that most of us prefer to turn our head to the right when embracing. This right-turning preference is thought to be imprinted in the womb, where embryos favour turning their heads to the right in the last trimester of birth.
Virtually every hug implies a closeness, a sense of connection-both spiritual and sensual. Hugging is the ultimate intimacy. When we amorously hug, all the senses are involved in a vortexof encounter, we are vulnerable yet strong, we shelter in the warm enclosure of each other’s arms, and map the contours of our passion with our fingertips.
Andthere’s nothing like a big hug to heal a bad day.
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