Beyond the Hug: Rethinking Spiritual Culture’s Touch Rituals

You’ve probably seen those photos: the ones from retreats, workshops, or festivals where people hug, sit close together or lie skin-to-skin in circles. Or maybe you’ve been to a retreat like this yourself. Every time I see these images, I pause. There’s something that draws you in, that makes it look like connection and healing are happening through the touch and closeness. And I get it - the people who run these gatherings truly believe in what they’re doing, and you can see that. For some, these experiences really do feel powerful, leaving a sense of belonging and comfort. But for me, there’s always a flicker of unease underneath.

Let's pause here for a moment.

Why do these images make me uneasy? For me, it goes back to an obvious, instinctive aversion to being touched by strangers. This isn't just a human trait; it's deeply rooted in nature. When goats are introduced into a new herd, they often display signs of stress and aggression. This reaction isn't out of the ordinary; it's a natural response to unfamiliarity. Such behaviors highlight the discomfort animals feel when entering unknown social groups. Why would I let someone touch me if we’re not bonded in any other way? 

But the thing is, for years this aversion to touch in me was unnaturally amplified by my childhood trauma. Even an “innocent” touch could trigger a feeling of huge danger: my heart would race, or I would feel like crying - and back then, I didn’t understand why. I know I’m not alone. Many people I know carry similar childhood experiences. This kind of trauma isn’t something you can just bring up in a group setting like this, because these meetings are usually not designed for trauma healing — unless it’s specifically advertised as such. And then, of course, it becomes a whole different story.

If you're dysregulated in any way, it's important to realize what you carry inside. If you haven't healed or have no awareness of your internal state, and you go to a retreat hoping it will ground you, help you feel safe, maybe even heal you — you might feel let down. Because sometimes, it does the opposite.

There’s often a quiet but persistent expectation that you might not even notice. Moments of embracing in the circle, touching faces or hands, or exercises where touch is treated as a tool for grounding can all feel “normal”, even if, for you, something feels slightly off. And when it does, it’s easy to start feeling like you’re doing something wrong, like you’re not keeping up with what everyone else feels. If assertiveness doesn’t come naturally, stepping out can feel impossible. Over time, it can pull your thinking toward the group’s norms instead of honoring your own individuality.

There's Another Side of the Story

Some people are the complete opposite - they can't get enough touch. They're the ones rushing to every group hug, seeking physical contact with anyone who'll give it.

When a stranger's embrace feels like relief, like coming home, there's usually something deeper going on. Most of us are carrying around unmet needs from childhood - that desperate hunger for connection and safety.

These practices might feel healing in the moment, like they're finally giving you what you've been missing. But sometimes that craving is actually unprocessed trauma looking for a way to feel better. And it can become like a dopamine addiction.

The thing is, real connection starts from within.

Energy exchange is real

In Hindu philosophy, even a handshake is said to create energy flow between people. Sadhguru explains this through the concept of Runanubandha: "Runanubandha is the physical memory that you carry within you." He says that we develop it through any physical contact - even if you only hold someone's hand. This is why traditional Indian greeting involves folded hands rather than touching.

This resonates deeply with me - I've been learning to trust the subtle signals my body gives me about energy exchange. When I'm feeling dysregulated, I naturally ask my husband not to touch me. My body shows me very strongly what it needs and what doesn't: first - space for myself. Otherwise physical contact might intensify what I'm feeling. I need space and time to process, not someone trying to shift my emotional state for me.

According to Peter Levine, the founder of Somatic Experiencing, our nervous systems need space to self-regulate, and well-meaning attempts to soothe someone who's dysregulated can actually interfere with their natural healing process.

It’s actually amazing how modern science is catching up with this ancient wisdom. Research now shows that practices focused on energy and vibration measurably affect our nervous systems, brain function, and even our heart rate variability.

What healing has taught me

As I've worked through much of my trauma, I've become more aware of how different types of connection affect me. I can now recognize the difference between authentic intimacy and using touch to regulate my emotions. I've learned where my boundaries actually are.

Today I know that real connection happens most naturally when I already feel whole within myself, rather than when I'm desperately looking to others to fill what's missing.

Connection beyond the physical

The deepest connections with people usually happen not through touching, but by creating space for understanding, compassion and awareness. As some spiritual teachers describe, true connection occurs at the level of consciousness itself - what they call "the web of awareness" that embraces all creation. 

Peter Levine's research on self-regulation shows that our nervous systems are designed to return to balance naturally. When we learn to self-regulate rather than seeking regulation through others' touch, we access what he calls our "innate capacity to heal." This isn't about avoiding connection - it's about connecting from wholeness rather than neediness.

Grounding practices help me stay balanced, but most importantly, they protect me from absorbing other people's energies into my body. It's become a powerful tool, especially in group settings - like when my husband and I organize our annual mountain festival.

What I've discovered through my healing journey is that the most profound connections happen when we meet each other as whole beings, not as fragments seeking completion. Touch becomes sacred when it's a celebration of wholeness, not a desperate attempt to fill emptiness.

So what do you do with all this insight and the beautiful communities and retreats? Before attending, look deeper into yourself and ask: Will this serve my inner development, or is it just a way for my ego to feel momentarily better? If it’s simply entertainment, or a way to enjoy time with like-minded souls - that’s fine too.