Kundalini Splendor

Hugging Barack Obama

by foxeca

Thu Mar 19, 2009 at 03:20:08 PM PDT

"The White House would like you to participate in a grassroots greet with President Obama before his speech begins in Costa Mesa."

When you get an email like that, if you're me, this is how you react:
[insert shocked, slack-jawed silence here, interrupted only when someone punches you in the shoulder to check that you're still alive.]

foxeca's diary :: ::

I have no idea how the group of ten was chosen; I was barely even able to comprehend that I was lucky enough to be in it. But you don't question these things.

"What are you going to SAY to him"? demanded the few people I had time to tell in advance. I don't know - what do you say to the President of the United States, Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, Leader of the Free World? Do you try to impress him with your wit and erudition, or do you just embrace your plebian unworthiness and call it a success if you don't drool on him?

Unsure whether I'd really have time to make conversation, I considered asking the native Hawaiian for insider tips on my upcoming visit to Oahu, or maybe making a joke of my utterly embarrassing snowboarding raccoon tan. ("I would have used SPF 50 if I'd known I would be meeting the President!")

But more than anything, in the year-plus I spent in the brutally intense labor of love that was electing him, all I've ever really wanted from Barack Obama is a hug.

Why? I'm not even sure. He just seems like he'd a good hugger, I guess. He's such a wonderful, fatherly figure, like Mufasa from The Lion King, Cliff Huxtable, and Atticus Finch all rolled into one...loving to his kids and wife, considerate of all, a good listener, understanding, funny, wise, gentle. And I'm big on hugs. So to me, a hug would be the perfect coda to this long journey that the President has no idea I've taken with him. Just a hug.

And, pacing anxiously with 9 other people in a curtained, makeshift "room" just outside the meeting hall - all of us more jittery and excited than kindergarteners about to meet Santa on Christmas Eve - I'm not sure I'll have the courage to ask.

People who know me realize how indescribably, life-changingly awesome it is for me to get within five feet of Obama. And people who know me very well realize how terribly shy I can be, especially when it comes to asking for something I want. I wrestle with this, but after 10 or 15 minutes of working up some nerve (and sweat in the warm California day)) I figure I might as well pop the question. This may be my only chance, and the worst he can do is say no.

Abruptly, and all too quickly, the "tank car" pulls up, and his lanky frame unfolds from the depths as an island of calm, controlled confidence amid a sea of buzzing aides. He calls out, "Hi, guys!" and waves. We offer a feeble, awed chorus of return greetings. Without hesitation, he strides toward a fellow team member and friend, Alisa, who bravely and graciously steps forward to offer her hand, welcoming him to Orange County.

He stops and chats for a few seconds with each person, asking each name, cherishing. This whole performance feels like it's on fast-forward, moving too fast for me to process properly. The closer he gets, the more my bones dissolve into wet noodles. Then, very suddenly it seems, this lanky, mocha-skinned luminary is towering over me, holding me helpless in a force field of mesmerizing, laser-beam eye contact. He bears a gentle smile and an outstretched hand that mine simply disappears into. "What's your name?" He asks it like he truly cares.

What is my name? Blank. Panic. Oh god - it's a pop quiz, and I'm failing. Finally, I grasp for it. "Elyssa." Whew.

The smile grows wider, and he gives a nod, still paralyzing me with his eye contact rays. "It's very nice to meet you, Elyssa."

"It's so nice to meet you." Deep breath, and I can feel a pleading "little girl" look uncontrollably creep onto my face. Forget the vacation talk, the sunburned nose. If I don't ask now, I never will. "President Obama... can I have a hug?"

He breaks out into a grin. "Of course." And the long arms of the executive branch envelop me in a warm, worsted-wool womb of Presidential power. "I appreciate you."

I can't really describe what it's like to be hugged by the President, but I'm obliged to try.

First, consider: This man has the world on his shoulders. The number of seemingly insurmountable crises he and his advisers must unsnarl is overwhelming. Yet he gives the sense that he is there with you; that he is not distracted at that moment with the global economy, or Afghanistan, or subprime mortgages, or single-payer healthcare, or any of the thousands of other troubles, seen and unseen by the unwashed masses, that must plague his days. A feeling of power and peace permeates, like being embraced by a tiger whose last incarnation was Mahatma Gandhi. It defines what a "hug"should be: held but not awkwardly long, warm but not sweaty, firm but not constricting, caring but not smarmy. My friend Erik, who has also hugged him, would agree: strength, love, and a tranquil energy flow around him, and through him, into you. You are overcome with the feeling that everything is and will be all right.
Strangely, there's something about the hug that might almost make you think that it's just as much for him as it is for you

.
It's possible I'm overemotional, highly likely that I'm extremely biased, and no doubt all the work hundreds of organizers and I put into the campaign is skewing my perception, but Obama-up-close is a nearly spiritual experience that words simply fail to encapsulate from the perspective of an average person. Truly, it IS a remarkable individual leading this country; human, with flaws as we all have, but remarkable nonetheless, and someone that I can say, with the confidence begat by experience, is one of the best huggers I've ever met.

They were three of the most incredible seconds of my life.
After blubbering my gratitude repeatedly, for his acknowledgement, for his hug, for his existence, he continued on down the line, shaking hands, making friends. We took a group picture, and then he was whisked away to proclaim himself accountable for the condition and direction of our nation to 2,000 live Californians. And leaving me in a state of shock and awe unlike anything his predecessor could ever conceive.

So the lesson here is this: should you ever be in a situation to ask this compelling, benevolent, and soulful man for an embrace, go for it. He won't say no.

And you won't regret it.