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This Is How It Happened

What you are reading was conceived in an “ah-ha” moment. Books are often the result of much thinking and planning, sometimes for years, before the author sits down to write. This book had its beginnings in quite a different way. I had no intentions of writing a book, and certainly not one on this subject. This is how it happened.

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My friend and I were on a tour of the breathtaking home, Fallingwater, a house designed by architect Frank Lloyd Wright in 1935, located in rural southwestern Pennsylvania, about an hour southeast of Pittsburgh. We ran into a fellow tourist (let’s call him Sandy), whom I had seen in passing earlier that day. I was ready to move on when I had an uncharacteristic thought; it occurred to me that Sandy might need/want a hug. I didn’t know him, I had never seen him until that morning, and I had no idea why that thought popped into my head. What’s more, it wouldn’t go away. Why not? I wondered. I could use a hug; maybe he could, too. The other side of my mind was having none of it. He’ll think you’re crazy. He’ll just walk away. I settled the argument by walking up to Sandy and saying, “Hi. My name is Stone. Would you like a hug?” Sandy hesitated for a moment, and then said, “Sure.” So, we shared a solid hug as if we were old friends reconnecting after a long separation.

This was a powerful, restorative hug—our connection, however brief, was highly meaningful. I never asked Sandy how he felt about it; in fact, I never saw him again. I don’t know whether I had sensed that he was silently asking for a hug or if one of us needed a hug. Whatever the reason, the result was transformative, at least for me.

The next hug was in Thermopolis, Wyoming, which I’m told is the largest natural hot springs in the world. While my daughter and I were in the ninety-nine-degree pool, I got into a conversation with a guy (let’s call him Cody), who was also on vacation with his daughter. While the girls played together, Cody and I exchanged a little information. He told me he was planning to buy a place in Thermopolis as a second home; he lived in Colorado. After a while, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

The next day, as I was going for a jog along the river, I saw him again. He had mentioned to me the day before that he was a huge fly fisherman. He was standing on the side of the river with his truck parked close by. Cody said his daughter was still asleep in the truck, and that they had stayed the night there, by the river.

As we chatted, we shared our divorce experiences. Mine was amicable; his was ugly. He and his ex-wife had fought over custody of their daughter for five years. It was a messy battle. At the end of our talk, I asked him if he would like a hug. I was pleased that he agreed. We had what I consider a significant hug for two people who recently met. It probably lasted for about fifteen or twenty seconds. I felt a deep platonic connection. I wished him well, and continued my run.

At that moment, I knew I was going to write Hug Therapy. I was as sure of it as I had ever been of anything in my life. I debated including this in the book and then, upon further reflection, I knew I wanted to be radically transparent with you. (More about radical transparency later.) What happened was as I jogged away, I heard a powerful voice state, “You will write a book about the power of hugging.” This was jarring on many levels, and, in my state of shock, I simply replied, “Okay.” From that moment on, this book has been my focus, and hugging, the center of my life. I now see everything through the lens of a hug. I will explain this new perspective throughout the book.

The fates, however, were not yet finished. My family and I were supposed to leave Thermopolis and spend a night in Riverton, Wyoming, at the Wind River Casino. However, no one thought it made sense to do any extra driving, so we decided to stay another day. Back at the hot springs, I ran into Cody. We greeted each other as friends. Cody and I resumed our conversation, and, to my delight, he told me that following our hug the day before, he had walked around all morning with a smile he couldn’t erase. I made a note to myself to put this in the book. By this point, it was like a one-two punch. The universe or something was telling me to write the book, and also confirming its impact. I became a HUGe believer in the power of hugging. This could make a difference in the world.

The next hug occurred in Mountain View, California, where I was sitting with my friend Earl at an outside patio restaurant, discussing the books each of us was writing. A couple sat nearby, engaged in a lively conversation. They seemed to be having a romantic date and were very much immersed in each other. During our dinner, I read a few pages of Hug Therapy to Earl to solicit his feedback and advice. As we left, the gentleman next to us, whose name was Stefano, apologized and said that he had something he felt compelled to share. He explained that he overheard much of our conversation and wanted me to know that I was on the right path. He told me a few times, “Go for it.”

He also mentioned the Kabbalah (the ancient Jewish tradition of mystical interpretation of the Old Testament) and how much it meant to him. He thought it may be at the essence of what my book is about. Well, I was dumbfounded. For a stranger to approach me this boldly and supportively was jarringly positive. When I recovered from my surprise, I asked him if he would like a hug. He jumped out of his seat, as if he had been waiting for me to ask; he was clearly overjoyed. We shared a long, intense hug. Then Earl asked to hug Stefano’s girlfriend. Next, our server, John, came out and got involved. Then, I had a warm embrace with Stefano’s girlfriend. Earl took a picture of Stefano and me, and we exchanged contact information.

The upshot of this “hug fest” is that people you have just met may want to give you a hug. They may be quite conscious of wanting to do so, or the desire may be just below the surface. One can connect with a fellow human being at any moment. That connection is our common bond that says, “I want you to be in my life, if only for this instant.” The hug may be a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, as it was with Sandy, or it may be the beginning of a lifelong friendship. We don’t really know. What matters is heartfelt contact with another person. In the best of all possible worlds, that person will feel moved to increase their hugging.

Of course, these are just a few of the meaningful hug interactions I’ve had, but they all told me I was going in the right direction. Since that time, I’ve expanded Hug Therapy to include exercises for embracing people you already know, yourself, and your life. The goal is to motivate people to make hugging a touchstone of what really matters in life.

Memoirist Bonnie Ware worked in palliative care for many years. In her book, The Top Five Regrets of the Dying: A Life Transformed by the Dearly Departed, she writes about patients’ regrets as they look back on their lives. Most often mentioned is, “I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.”

Hug Therapy will help you live a life that is true to yourself, a life that is played full out, in which you left it all on the field, so to speak. This idea is captured brilliantly as carpe diem (seize the day), which many may recall from Dead Poets Society. In this movie, Robin Williams is a teacher who is passionately focused on helping his students go after what really matters to them. He reminds them, “We are food for worms, lads! Because we’re only going to experience a limited number of springs, summers, and falls. One day, hard as it is to believe, each and every one of us is going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die!”

It is this same awareness that can allow us to look deeply and discover what really matters to us.