This is the last post in my collaboration with FrontRangeScribbles. Please visit 1, 2 and 3 and leave us some comments, let us know what you think about two bloggers collaborating. We would like to do it again. Perhaps you even have an idea for us to write about?
One of the things about living in a small town is that opportunities present themselves in a way that may not otherwise be accessible in a larger town. By this I mean that I volunteer at one of our local theaters. I’ve been doing this for a few years now and I have truly enjoyed it from a myriad of standpoints. Not only are there opportunities to interact with other people in my community, I get to mingle with the actors (maybe I’ll get a chance to act some-day too) and I get to see the plays for free as well!
I went to the opening night of a new production. The play is November which is an in your face comedy. It is so bad, and the topics that are discussed are so exaggerated, that you really can’t help but laugh. It deals with all the taboos of modern-day society in an over the top dialogue.
However, this post is not about the play, instead it is about one of the members of the audience. Her name is Megan and she is a 12-year-old beagle.
The amount of venues where dogs are being accepted is growing. Stores, hotels, and even banks (I have taken mine with me into my local bank, which even has a jar of treats for their canine customers!). But still there are places where it is an unexpected surprise to spy a wagging tail and that was the case Friday night. In fact, Megan got quite a bit of attention, before the show, during intermission and afterwards. I heard comments all around me about how well she behaved and what a sweet dog she was.
But still, this isn’t the topic of this post.
What I noticed going on with Megan, is what I have witnessed countless times with my dog when we are out in public. Total strangers lose all inhibitions and will walk up and pet my dog. I watched this happen with Megan during the intermission.
This is too powerful to ignore. Especially since it brings up a question I have never been able to come up with an answer for. Why? Why will we as human beings, regardless of race, sexual orientation or gender allow ourselves to pet and touch a strange animal where we won’t do that with our own kind? Now, I realize this statement is overly broad. But I do speak from experience – I’ve seen it happen and I’ve experienced it.
Initially, when I started writing this I thought I would quote statistics and studies about the power of touch. But we all know that. We all know what it feels like to be hugged, to be lightly touched on the arm, to have someone put their arm around us, to hold our hand. We know how GOOD we feel when it happens, we feel loved, comforted, special.
Since this whole series started with a challenge, a dare even, I’ve decided to end it with one as well.
TOUCH someone this week. I am not talking sexual harassment, or giving someone a pat on the butt, that doesn’t count. When talking with someone, make a point of touching them on the arm. When you see a friend, family member – give them a hug. Hold hands with your significant other; put your arm around a child.
Find a way to make positive, physical contact with someone. See what happens. You will know, on an instinctive level, if it is ok. If you are unsure, ask, like I did with the waitress. When was the last time she had someone give her a hug? Do you volunteer at a hospital or something? How much those people need to be comforted. They are scared and many are alone. What kind of healing power is there in a hand being laid gently on an arm? Science will never be able to truly measure that – but there is proof that being touched does a world of good for someone.
I believe in the power of Karma. Who knows, perhaps one day when you are feeling low, lost or sad someone will gently touch you, when you least expected it and needed it the most.
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