Concerning hands

I’m into hands.  Do you notice people’s hands much?  They’re as expressive as the face, though in a different way.  They tell a story about experience and character that cannot lie.

My father’s long yet squared off fingers, my friend’s soft palm, my lover’s rough but oh-so-sensitive touch.  The differences make all the difference.  Part of our anatomy just like feet and ears, the hands seem to exist on a higher plane than the rest of us; more truthful, sincere, wise.  The mind stymies; the hands accept and keep moving.

Hands are a constant source of spiritual nourishment, too.  When energy flags, and mental confusion reigns, letting your hands take over can be the cure.  Keyboarding all day is certainly using the hands, but in too repetitive a way to be helpful.  Hands therapy is getting your fingers into some morass – weeds in the garden, strings of a guitar, baking ingredients, acrylic paints, that closet you haven’t cleaned out in years.  It’s letting the hands guide, and keeping the mind subservient.

In my networking group, one of the members is an Allstate agent.  When she wraps up her promotions she always does the palms-cupped-together gesture that’s Allstate’s signature – “You’re in good hands.”  It’s an example of absolutely transcendent marketing.  The movement, the cupped palms say it all, with grace, force, dignity.  I switched to Allstate for my car insurance last week. 

For a little buffer against the stresses of a Monday, consider the hands around you, and your own as well.  The life of the hand is perhaps the most profound expression of self.

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