When Words are Hugs

This photo has absolutely nothing to do with this story except it is pretty isn't it?

This is for a wonderful person who is a computer techie guy who I haven't seen for a while but who, like many other people it turns out, reads my Blog in anonymity to keep up with what's going on with me.

Today, he sent me an e-mail. "Type at me what's going on with you?" he says to me knowing, based on what he's reading that something isn't quite right.  He tells me, this technophile, that I need to be kind to myself.

He goes on to say that he's just spent his morning listening to Gregorian chant, trying to meditate and reading a book by Pema Chodron (When Things Fall Apart). I'm wondering why HE'S reading that. What's falling apart for him? He tells me that he's full of thoughts of being "soft" with myself. WHO IS THIS GUY? Is this the same guy I used to know? How unbelievably long have I been gone anyway [from Vancouver]? Long enough for his alter ego to surface?

Maybe HE should actually be living here and I should be living back in the city. He should be wearing baggy sweat pants and tie-die (which he has been known to do I believe given that he is a hippie at heart. He should be walking softly and weaving his long hair into a knot on the top of his head like this other sexy blonde guy who lives here whose hair most women would die for and maybe he should be sitting cross legged in a field of organic hay. (Is there such a thing?)

Anyway, the point is...what exactly is the point anyway... the point is, he made me feel so much better just knowing that he's listening and I can feel his energy through his e-mail to me and it makes me wistful wishing we were sitting having a beer in a pub talking about everything and nothing and feeling supported like we used to do on a fairly regular basis.

So thank you. You know who you are. You're so great my friend. No wonder you're such a great dad!

When words are hugs, fear runs and hides.