A few years ago, my friend Naila Francis had asked those she knew to send her a poem called These Hands that would describe the ways in which we used our hands in our day to day lives. It was a beautiful mindfulness exercise for me and on occasion now, I bring to my awareness of what it is that we are capable of doing with these appendages that can be both healing or hurting, depending on intention.
These hands held a tiny baby bird and ferried it from a window-sill at Blockbuster video into a tree across a parking lot, so it could await the return of its family. I was assured by a woman who works at a bird sanctuary, that opposed to legend, mama birds do not reject their young if humans have touched them..
These hands stroked wrinkled brows as transition neared from one form of life to another, while I was a nursing home social worker.
These hands have caressed lovers throughout the years, delighting both of us.
These hands dig deeply into the earth, planting seeds that blossomed into exquisitely beautiful flowers.
These hands tap on computer keyboards, expressing God-language in poetry and prose.
These hands celebrate joyously as they clap to acknowledge inspired performances by artists, musicians, speakers, dancers and actors.
These hands held those of my husband for 5 ½ weeks while he was in a coma and grasped them tightly and then gently released them when he made his journey into the Light.
These hands offer loving Reiki energy and massage to those who are willing to receive.
These hands grasp on to others as we spin in a spiral dance to celebrate our connection with the Divine.
These hands comfort mourning friends and family at the death of loved ones.
These hands enfold others as we gaze into each other’s eyes, seeing beyond the person before me and recognizing the kindred spirit.
These hands prepare food that nourishes body, mind and spirit.
These hands turn the steering wheel to avoid hitting the deer who leapt in front of the car.
These hands stretch skyward when I am dancing in ecstasy.
These hands fold in prayer pose as I offer Namaste’ to those whose paths I cross.
These hands glide a miniature wooden rake across a Zen meditation garden to reduce stress.
These hands play in soapy water as I wash the dishes, feeling the squeaky clean surface of a cobalt blue plate.
These hands join with others as we sit around the table blessing the food of which we are about to partake and those who have prepared it.
These hands scratch the ‘traveling itch’ on my son Adam’s back.
These hands soothe away my own tension after a long day.
These hands provide a platform from which to blow kisses.
These hands apply clown make-up to my face as I transform into “Feather”.
These hands gladly write checks that are embellished with nature scenes, because my creditors trust me with their services in anticipation of payment.
These hands tap out a heart-beat rhythm on a drum, in time with creation.
These hands support my body on my purple ‘magic carpet’ a.k.a. yoga mat as I place it in downward facing dog asana.
These hands eagerly pull on purple moon and star flannel pajamas to comfort me against the cold winter night.
These hands welcome new friends.
These hands cup the faces of dear ones.
These hands enfold those of the couples I marry, offering a blessing to seal the wedding ceremony.
These hands pile bundles of newspapers to put out for recycling.
These hands are connected to my heart.
What do your hands do?
Sharing a beautiful song by Jewel, called Hands
In the end, only kindness matters~
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