These hands are my hands
I sat with my journal, facing a fresh blank page. My pen was poised above this page, waiting to make contact.
What connections would I discover? What message was there waiting for me? I touched the tip of the pen to the page and my eyes came to gaze upon my hand.
It was waiting too, holding the pen until it received guidance from me. What word would it write first? What letter? What thought would spark this writing?
I was instantly taken back in time, journeying to a place where I found myself sitting at a wooden desk in a grade two classroom. I was learning to write — incredibly focused and intent on learning as fast as I could.
You see, my teacher wasn’t teaching me how to write. I was. Our school didn’t teach children to write until grade three, and I just couldn’t wait.
The first word I remember writing was “pea”. I loved forming the letter “p” — the scooping descender and its big fat belly — how it danced so easily into the “e” and then with a swoop, trailing off into a big fat circular “a”. I wrote it over and over again, proud of myself because I was learning to write.
And then, leaving behind visions of pencils and crayons that scribble fat colourful letters, I returned to the present time, still gazing at my hand, appreciating both of them for how much they have done for me.
I started to think of all the things my hands have given and how much they have received. How connected with the outer world and the inner world they allow me to be. I decided to write a poem to show my appreciation for “these hands”.
These hands
They have held the umbrella that keeps me dry,
wiped salty tears from my lovely blue eyes.
They’ve played the clarinet, the piano, the drum,
and yes… when I was little, I sucked my thumb.
They scratch, and tickle, wiggle and wipe,
and across the keyboard they joyfully type.
They’ve held a paintbrush, a crayon, a pen,
and rise to the occasion to wave at a friend.
They’ve stifled a yawn and shielded a sneeze,
and braced my falls quickly, with incredible ease.
They brush my hair away from my eyes,
and shield the sun in the zenith sky.
They’ve cradled warm drinks on a cold day,
and made an ice snowball casting mittens away.
They’ve pulled up my socks and tied my laces,
and sewed buttons on in impatient races.
They’ve lovingly pet many a dog and a cat,
and encouraged good friends with a pat on the back.
As a child at bedtime, they’ve come together in prayer,
and picked many a berry, eager to share.
With delicate grace, expression entails,
and gestures of kindness gently prevail.
There’s energy present, a tingling vibration,
they connect me with life and all its sensations.
I think I could probably go on forever with this, but I think you get the picture.
I love my hands. They are alive. They are always touching something, whether it is this keyboard while I type, or the air as they swing by my sides when I’m walking.
There is just no end to the expression and the sensations we have at our fingertips through the use of our hands. They connect us.
Tell me… what do you love about your hands?
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Davina, this is beautiful! I love the line “there’s energy present” and you have made me appreciate my hands. I have big green veins that stick out on my hands that always made me think my hands look like a man’s hands. Today I am grateful to see those veins, because they mean lots of blood is coursing through and that means my hands are alive, and I’m alive! I love this post!
Hi Davina,
Wow, what a wonderful poem you’ve written! And it reminds me just how much we do use our hands.
Me? What do I love about my hands? I love that they can open pickle jars. And hold a hammer. And shake another’s hand. And count…
That was fun Davina!!
Davina,
Thank you for your poem and thoughts about hands….they are very important when one blows one’s nose….and a lovely opportunity to connect again today with the keyboard and type away saying hello to all again…I will go back and read your week…I put myself to bed for 3 days and am drippy but back up and at ‘em!
Good start to get started…thank you
Hi Daphne.
Your hands ARE alive! I feels like that doesn’t it? If you sit and tune in to them you can feel the energy that is there. You can feel with your hands even when you’re not actually touching anything. I’m tickled that you’ve enjoyed this so much.
Hi Lance.
I’ve needed a pair of hands around that could open a pickle jar for me, lol. I’ve had to hold the jar under running hot water and then try to open it up by holding it with a towel. Even then it takes a lot of grunting and groaning. Glad you had fun with this. You could write a whole blog post on shaking hands eh? I’ve had a few really bad handshakes. Gotta love the ones that squeeze so hard you have to stifle a scream — ouch!
Hi Patricia.
You’re welcome. I didn’t realize you’ve been ill — sorry to hear that. Great to know you’re back up and at it again though. Take it easy on yourself.
It’s interesting that you are talking about hands in your post. I was working on mine last night. Two itchy round spots have been on my hands a number of weeks now. It is amazing that they look similar – one on my left and one on my right hand.
For weeks, I did not pay attention. And then I became alert that it was odd that the two spots are like mirrors of each other. The itch refused to go away.
So last night, I switched off my laptop early and spent some time sending loving kindness to these two spots. When I tuned in, I detected sorrow, persecution, punishment and suffering. These emotions appeared to have been locked up in there since past lives. I am not sure why they are appearing now. Nothing in my life is reflecting any of these emotions.
I did what I could last night with some healing work and will see if I need to do more tonight. But definitely, if I have been neglecting my hands previously, I am paying attention to them more now.
Hi Davina – I LOVE your poem. Our hands do mean a lot to us, don’t they?
Like you, I loved penmanship in grade school, and to this day, love the hand written words. It’s so magical what beauty we can create with a pen and paper.
What I love about my hands is how I can feel the smoothness of paper or fabric, holding hands with my husband, giving hugs, waving, typing, and washing dishes in hot sudsy water.
Thank you for a fun assignment.
Beautiful poem! My hands are quick at catching falling objects (I have kids!):)
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Aww, what a beautiful poem Davina! I like how you were taken back to that time. I think you really relayed the feelings and the anticipation of writing to us.
I find journaling to be such a rewarding process. Thanks for sharing with us!
I’ve been HATING my hands lately because they seem to be “transitioning” from being MY hands to being my MOTHER’S hands!!!
Too many years of sun and fun are now taking their toll. While my face, which I carefully guarded from the beginning with sunscreen does not “betray” my age as quickly as my hands do.
I’ve been focusing too much on WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE – rather than what they DO! I loved reading your poem. It helped me to realize that what my hands LOOK like aren’t nearly as important as the work they are still able to do!
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Hi Davina – This is brilliant. And it’s great that you can remember so much about learning to write.
I almost lost my eyesight a few years ago, so I’m always grateful that I have use of my eyes – they allow me to do so much. But I hadn’t thought about how useful my hands were until now.
Davina, you are such a wonderful poet! Each that you’ve shared is so expressive and visual…and encourage much thought. Hands…to me, hands are very personal. I remember watching my father’s when he used his tools, marveling at the strength and flexibility; and observing the way my mom’s moved as she knitted and crocheted; and my husband’s, when he wooed me with his piano playing… But my own hands? Sometimes, when I hold my own hand, it’s as if my mother is holding it, instead, offering strength and reassurance and the utmost love. In my own hands, I can feel my mother’s.
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Hi Davina!
Wow the poem is outstanding! I love it!
Our hands are indeed precious. I love all that they do, and I am conscious not to over-exert them, especially when typing on the computer ;) I am sure you can relate!
There are many things I love about my hands:
I love the lines on the inside of them and how I would learn their meaning when I was younger to understand palmistry…
I love my hands as they massage my husband, and curve in all these neat ways…
I love too that my nails are so white naturally and strong and complement the purity of my hands… which is what I would hope for people to know about me from my hands – that I am a strong spirit and want to speak “purely” to others, from my spirit and heart, as that is what my hands and my being is about.
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Hi Evelyn.
I wonder if this could be a sign that you are spontaneously releasing some stored blockages from all the healing work you’ve been doing? Especially since, as you say, nothing in your life is reflecting this. I hope this heals for you — itching can be a distraction.
Hi Barbara.
I’m glad you enjoyed this. I love your descriptions… especially holding hands with your husband. I hope you share each others lives for many, many years. I’ve always enjoyed seeing couples in their senior years, holding hands, there’s just something special about that.
Hi Mark.
LOL, too funny. I remember my brother… he would throw things from his highchair. We would pick them up, and he would throw them on the floor again.
Hi Ocean.
Thanks for stopping by. I quite like the quote you’ve got on your blog, “Happiness comes from within your heart, not from your surroundings!”
Hi Nathalie.
Thank you. I agree completely. Journalling is hugely rewarding. It’s funny how I remember that so plainly from grade 2. I can still see my hand as I intently tried to form those letters (almost 40 years ago!). It’s a nice memory and I’m glad you enjoyed reading about it.
Hi Kathy.
Tis very true… how they look isn’t as important as what they do. And, as you know, we are our own worst enemy. That is an interesting thing to note. We are so cautious about protecting our faces from the sun, but don’t think about our hands. At least I never have — I hate to get all greasy with lotion. Hey I wonder if someone has invented trendy sungloves? Could be a new fad?
Hi Cath.
Thank you. This is a fond memory I like to entertain. I can still see the classroom and the desk as clear as yesterday. Wow, that must have been a scary time for you to have almost lost your eyesight. I’m glad this didn’t come to pass. It is true that we don’t generally appreciate what we have until it’s gone.
Hi Julie.
So, now we know… your husband wooed you with his piano playing. Sigh. So romantic :-) You lucky girl you! I love what you’ve said about your mother and feeling her touch through your own hands. You must have been very close.
Hi Evita.
Thanks, glad you enjoyed it. Oh yes, I can relate to not over-doing it on the computer. I enjoyed experimenting with palmistry, although I was told that I would have 3 children and I’ve had zero. From your description I can see that you have beautiful hands Evita… and your husband is probably fond of them too after all those massages.
I don’t know. But it is odd that I am having the two spots appear as mirror-like images of each other on my left and right hand at roughly the same positions. There are no other spots on my hands right now, so it is not like I have been having them all over. My instincts tell me that it is not just a “spontaneous” reaction. There is a story behind the spots. Which reminds me…I’m going to take a photo of my hands later, for some record taking!
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Hi Evelyn.
This reminds me of the energy meridians I learned about when I studied Reflexology. Are your spots on the same lines on each hand? Maybe you could find out what organs these meridians are tied in with and find an answer there… or another connection to lead you to your answer?
I’m fascinated with the fact that you remember the first word you ever wrote. I’ve been sitting here trying to remember mine… I just can’t.
Hi Davina
Wow, this is post is amazing, so much is in here.
I love your poem, and when I was reading it for some reasons it reminded me of the song from Jewel ‘hands’
My hands are small I know
But they’re not yours, they are my own
But they’re not yours, they are my own
I am never broken
In the end only kindness matters …
Great post :-)
Thank you,
Giovanna Garcia
Imperfect Action is better than No Action
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My hands? I can’t count how many times my hands have comforted myself, my children and others by reaching out. My hands? I can’t count how many things I’ve created, for fun, for work and for others with my hands. My hands? I can’t count how many times my hands have healed, myself, and others with their touch.
You hit on something powerful here!
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Davina — I am so pleased that you are letting your hands write freely. The poem was wonderful to read. As I read things aloud, it bounced with joy off my tongue. Your writing is shining with love.
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Hands are viewed as a source of reassuring support and mystic power. They vibrate according to energy you detect in emotions and subtle mood swings. Hands enable human beings to experience the healing power of touch, to express love more fully, and to shape karma.
Liara Covert’s last blog post..6 Ways to re-align what ails you
Oh my goodness… I have a greater appreciation for BOTH of my hands since injuring one of them and having surgery. I could not use it at all for a week as the pain was unbearable. One hand did not do a good job in getting a ponytail in my hair or dry me off after a shower.
I realize some people don’t have the luxury of two hands and learn to live with one. But you see how hard it is when you suddenly can’t use one like I did. Couldn’t button pants or coats. Had to use my left hand to start the car and change gears.
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Hi Vered.
I guess it’s burned into my memory. I was so focused on that one word and wrote it over and over again.
Hi Giovanna.
Oh ya, I remember that song well. I have that CD of hers actually. I’m glad you enjoyed this, thanks.
Hi Tess.
You just gave me the chills :-) You’ve got some healing hands it sounds like.
Hi Sara.
Thank you! This exercise of “free style” writing is amazing. It opens up a whole new world.
Hi Liara.
Reassuring support and mystic power — I love this description you’ve given. There’s a real comfort there — that is healing in itself I feel.
Hi Meryl.
Welcome, and thanks for your visit. It is true what they say — we don’t miss something until it’s gone. We can take our hands for granted so easily because we use them without even thinking. I’m glad you were able to heal from your surgery.
What a beautiful poem! Hands are so expressive.
You made me remember writing when I was in about grade 2 or 2 – we had wooden desks and used fountain pens, and the ink could get messy.
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That was beautiful!
With my hands, I use them to express myself either using a keyboard or pen and paper. Carefully cutting veggies for a salad, washing my face at the end of the day and other tasks that I eagerly look forward to.
The reward for my hard working hands is a good washing using simple soap and water and then slathering them with lotion. Occasionally a manicure at a local spa is a nice bonus.
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Davina, hands take form and shape based on your perception and experience at a given moment. You decide what to highlight or repress and forget. What you choose to believe evolves into your life. Whether you grasp that in your hand or set it free like a butterfly, is up to you.
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Hi Robin.
Thank you. I agree, hands are expressive. They appear to take on a life all their own sometimes. It’s neat how some memories stand out above the rest isn’t it? I remember one art teacher had us write with a fountain pen in an art class, to experiment with calligraphy. I can’t remember if it was messy or not.
Hi Carla.
Thanks! Manicures are a real treat. Sure, a person can do their own nails, but it is so much better to be pampered :-)
Hi Liara.
We really are so much more than meets the eye aren’t we? From reading your comment I’m getting the idea that hands can act like an antennae or a receiver of some sort — this is fascinating. And, I love your butterfly analogy.
For as chool that didn’t teach you to write until Grade 3 you not only caught up but surpassed all expectations!
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Hi Jannie.
Thanks! If I could have been born with pockets, I’d probably have had a pen in them. :-)
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