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Ride in the winter? Rides-Self supported Centuries Beyond Commuting Equipment/Accesories Repairs/Maintenance Helpful Links My Bicycles My Fixed Gear Bicycles Still to come Bicycling Safety What About Weather? Equipment/Reviews Home	*A Rant on Hugging* not even close to being about biking Overheard an interesting conversation this evening. I had been meeting with my sponsee, someone I sponsor in a 12 Step program. Well, the time came for us to part, he was going to go home and sleep and I was on my way to a meeting. As is our custom, we hugged as a parting gesture. Now hugging has been one of those things that in the Fellowship of recovering addicts and alcoholics is just a natural thing, a gesture of understanding, and comraderie, in a way saying "I know you, you know me," type of thing. It is something that in the program of NA comes up quite often, and is sometimes difficult for men to identify with, as we are often made to think/feel a hug is efeminate, means you're weak, or gay. It has beed said in meetings by a few guys that they were uncomfortable at first when they were hugged in the program, and got use to it. The NA text talks about a loving hug, making all the difference in the world for a recovering addict. I know for me it was something that helped me feel apart of, and welcomed in to this fellowship, and this way of life that I didn't have the first clue as to how I was going to stay clean, or live a life without using some form of chemicals. So, my sponsee and I are parting, and we hug in the middle of Perkins, and in front of several other tables of people. It was just a natural thing between us. As my sponsee left, and I settled back down in the booth to write, and make a few phone calls, I heard the table beside me comment on how "men don't hug." I looked at the older gentleman, his hair dyed an unnatural color, his liver spots and all, and thought about what is for me a natural thing to do with my friends, and fellow drug addicts. For this guy it was that "old world," men don't hug, they don't cry and they don't show any emotion. What a bunch of crap that is. I felt sorry for him. He and his wife may have had kids and he never hugged them. I wonder how lonely that must feel, how awful it must be to not be able to be physical with another man, because you're afraid of being thought of less than a man for hugging another man. I think of what my father missed out on, not being able to hug me, to say he loved me, to say he cared for me. He is uneasy when I hug him, and in a way that's probably why I hug him, cause it's fun to see him squirm. I can recall a dozen times when I went to him, and not knowing what exactly I was looking for, have since discovered a hug means a lot. And sometimes just being held is enough of a comfort to make everything seem okay, that even if the world was coming unglued, that there was someone who understood, and cared, and it was going to be okay. I thought about this old fart, and what he'd gone through, and at his age what he might have seen, and been through. More than likely stuff I haven't and may never go through, like loosing friends in a war, hating, fighting, killing another human being. And he'd done it without being able to hug his dieing friend. I thought of the funerals I've been to and how I won't be able to hug some of these guys cause they're dead. I didn't get a chance to say good bye to them when they died. I didn't get to let them know how much they meant to me how much their being apart of my life meant. So I hug each of my friends today, men and women a like, I want them to know how much they mean to me, I want them to know they are special, and that I care, and everything's going to be okay. I just don't want to loose someone, and feel my hug might have made the difference in their life. I remember another man from my youth, my youth pastor. My father had seperated from my mother, and I talked with the guy, and I broke down and cried in front of him. He listened to me, and then said something I wasn't expecting. To him seeing me cry was a wonderful thing, that it was cool, because growing up that part of him was killed by his parent's messages that "boys don't cry." The guy meant a lot to me, and I can still hear him say that to me. Fortunately I listened to him, and didn't get bogged down in the abyss of not being able to express my feelings and emotions with anyone, not just other men. -fin- Other essays: Dreaming about a Big Ride A bike tour experience

Ride in the winter?

Rides-Self supported Centuries

Beyond Commuting

Equipment/Accesories

Repairs/Maintenance

Helpful Links

My Bicycles

My Fixed Gear Bicycles

Still to come

Bicycling Safety

What About Weather?

Equipment/Reviews

Home

A Rant on Hugging
not even close to being about biking

Overheard an interesting conversation this evening. I had been meeting with my sponsee, someone I sponsor in a 12 Step program. Well, the time came for us to part, he was going to go home and sleep and I was on my way to a meeting. As is our custom, we hugged as a parting gesture.
Now hugging has been one of those things that in the Fellowship of recovering addicts and alcoholics is just a natural thing, a gesture of understanding, and comraderie, in a way saying "I know you, you know me," type of thing. It is something that in the program of NA comes up quite often, and is sometimes difficult for men to identify with, as we are often made to think/feel a hug is efeminate, means you're weak, or gay. It has beed said in meetings by a few guys that they were uncomfortable at first when they were hugged in the program, and got use to it.
The NA text talks about a loving hug, making all the difference in the world for a recovering addict. I know for me it was something that helped me feel apart of, and welcomed in to this fellowship, and this way of life that I didn't have the first clue as to how I was going to stay clean, or live a life without using some form of chemicals.
So, my sponsee and I are parting, and we hug in the middle of Perkins, and in front of several other tables of people. It was just a natural thing between us. As my sponsee left, and I settled back down in the booth to write, and make a few phone calls, I heard the table beside me comment on how "men don't hug." I looked at the older gentleman, his hair dyed an unnatural color, his liver spots and all, and thought about what is for me a natural thing to do with my friends, and fellow drug addicts. For this guy it was that "old world," men don't hug, they don't cry and they don't show any emotion.
What a bunch of crap that is.
I felt sorry for him. He and his wife may have had kids and he never hugged them. I wonder how lonely that must feel, how awful it must be to not be able to be physical with another man, because you're afraid of being thought of less than a man for hugging another man. I think of what my father missed out on, not being able to hug me, to say he loved me, to say he cared for me. He is uneasy when I hug him, and in a way that's probably why I hug him, cause it's fun to see him squirm.
I can recall a dozen times when I went to him, and not knowing what exactly I was looking for, have since discovered a hug means a lot. And sometimes just being held is enough of a comfort to make everything seem okay, that even if the world was coming unglued, that there was someone who understood, and cared, and it was going to be okay.
I thought about this old fart, and what he'd gone through, and at his age what he might have seen, and been through. More than likely stuff I haven't and may never go through, like loosing friends in a war, hating, fighting, killing another human being. And he'd done it without being able to hug his dieing friend. I thought of the funerals I've been to and how I won't be able to hug some of these guys cause they're dead. I didn't get a chance to say good bye to them when they died. I didn't get to let them know how much they meant to me how much their being apart of my life meant. So I hug each of my friends today, men and women a like, I want them to know how much they mean to me, I want them to know they are special, and that I care, and everything's going to be okay. I just don't want to loose someone, and feel my hug might have made the difference in their life.
I remember another man from my youth, my youth pastor. My father had seperated from my mother, and I talked with the guy, and I broke down and cried in front of him. He listened to me, and then said something I wasn't expecting. To him seeing me cry was a wonderful thing, that it was cool, because growing up that part of him was killed by his parent's messages that "boys don't cry." The guy meant a lot to me, and I can still hear him say that to me. Fortunately I listened to him, and didn't get bogged down in the abyss of not being able to express my feelings and emotions with anyone, not just other men.

-fin-

Other essays:
Dreaming about a Big Ride

A bike tour experience