Hands

  
Always maintain a light touch, smiling and warm.

    A  Hand is the giver, profound metaphor for Help.  A giving hand is an extension of motive and directed energy.  Open and receptive, and holding a space of passion,
for you, my dearest lover, friend, family, sister/brother..

    A Hand full of Life, at once relaxed, filled with warmth, moving red blood, an  outermost appendage, precise and exacting, it moves in the service of work and duty. So many tasks at Hand, opening to form and shaping, change and cleansing.  Lending a Hand to activity, production, work, making, and even writing. Extending mind thoughts to script and scribble, wrapped around the wooden lead pencil, facilitating thought, ideas, or love and poetry.  The servant of the Mind.

   My own hand, warm and alive, carressing and feeling, taking notice of form and texture.  Is it rough or ragged, soft as velvet, dry and crunchy, leafy, cold like stone, wet, soft, or wooly, the coat of a pet?  Dermis awareness tempered by elements, warm and hot, coolness to cold and freezing.  Shapes pointed or round, surfaces felt in so many textures. 

   The feeding Hand - hand to mouth, hand to hurt, hand clinched to maintain strength, to contain frustration and anger.  Hand as tool, smoothing, spreading, moulding, shaping.  Hand, the strong base of an inverted body, to hold, to push, to pull.

    Hand expressive -  language of signing, movement, gestures, flowing articulation of dancer's hands.  Hand expressive -  executing the sonic inventions of musicians on every sort and kind of instrument.  The musical melodies and the rhythms played from musical insturments are birthed from moving hands.  Even the Hands themselves are the instruments. Every art, craft, and invention is the product of busy hands.   

    Softly, in my own hand, I feel my own skin.  Hand feels its own skin and the dynamism of its own partnering hand, its own skin shape, form, living movement and potential.  I open my hand in wonder of its endless works -  pouring, making, doing, forming, shaping, the instrument of instruments.  It knows in its own "hand memory" how to play the music.

   My hand is a bridge to come to you, as I write, as I touch, as I feel your response.  All things are possible when mind and heart command the hand. 

    I  reach out with my hands, giving hands.  I accept with receiving hands.  My thankful hands come together, "Namaste".  My active hands reach to the sky and feel the coolness and gentle movement of air, the faint warmth of the sun. The subtle but penetrating awareness of warm on a clear, cool morning.  The Hand -  a guage of contrast, the body antennae, mediator of elements, doer of chores, master of goals and accomplishments, performing a never ending stream of help and healing and happening.

    Through these hands, I receive whatever is my need, it is always supplied.  The eyes of my hands pulsate in giving
and in receiving, exchanging energy with matter. 
I chop wood.  I carry water.  I paint pictures. 
I  play violin.