Gently bring your hands into your lap and close your eyes.
Take a deep breath in.
Hold it for just a few moments and slowly let it out.
Allow yourself to relax,
Letting go.
Become aware of the air at your fingertips,
Between your fingers,
On the palms of your hands.
With each inhale,
Feel your breath covering your hands like soft gloves.
And with each exhale,
Feeling the breath leave through the tips of your fingers.
Experience the fullness,
The strength,
And the maturity of your hands.
Think of the most unforgettable hands that you have known.
The hands of your mother,
Father,
Grandparents,
Aunt or uncle,
A dear friend.
Remembering how those hands felt when they touched your face,
Caressed a cheek,
Tousled your hair,
Rested on your shoulder,
Or patted your back with encouragement.
Remember the oldest hands that have rested in your hands,
Wisdom flowing through them,
Warm,
Cold,
Rough,
Soft,
Gnarly and gentle,
Guiding you,
Strength and courage.
Think of the hands of a newborn child,
Your own child,
A niece,
A nephew,
A neighbor.
Vulnerable,
Soft,
Small,
Trusting.
Think of the incredible beauty,
Perfection,
And delicacy in the hand of a child,
Resting Touching in your hand,
Touching your face,
Gently tracing your cheek or lips,
Pointing to a hurt or pain with honesty and concern.
Once upon a time,
Those were your hands,
Reaching out for love,
Guidance,
Help,
And acceptance.
Think of all that your hands have done since then,
Almost all that you have learned has been through your hands.
Touching your mother's face,
Your own face,
Turning yourself over,
Holding someone's fingers so tightly for comfort,
Crawling,
Raising yourself up to see out of your crib,
Reaching for a toy,
Holding a stuffed animal tight in the darkness,
Walking and balancing yourself,
Learning to hold something for the first time,
A breast,
A bottle,
A spoon,
Feeding yourself,
Washing and bathing,
Dressing yourself.
At one time,
Your greatest accomplishment was tying your own shoes,
Remembering who taught you,
Your mother,
Your father,
A grandparent,
A teacher.
Think of all the exploring your hands have done and the things that they have learned,
So curious,
Remembering the magic when you learn to write your own name,
Drawing eyes on tissue paper ghosts for Halloween,
Making your first drawing to give as a gift.
When you first raised your hand to be chosen,
To be acknowledged,
To be enough.
Remember the things your hands have made,
Cookies,
Pie,
A valentine card for someone you love,
A painting,
A flower garden,
A bench to share with a friend.
As you grew older,
Think of the activities your hands have mastered,
Doorknobs,
Writing,
Tools,
Keyboards,
Remote controls,
Machinery,
Steering wheels,
Musical instruments.
Slowly touch each fingertip to your thumb and experience the fullness,
The strength and the maturity of your hands.
Our hands are not just for ourselves,
But for others as well.
How often have they given help to another,
Comforted a child,
Carried an injured bird,
Gathered berries to share?
Remember all the kinds of work your hands have done,
The tiredness and aching that they have known,
The cold and the heat,
The soreness and the bruises.
Remember the tears that they have wiped away,
Your own or another's.
Remember how much hurt,
Anger,
Even violence your hands have expressed.
Remember how much gentleness,
Tenderness,
And love your hands have given.
Holding a baby,
A puppy,
A kitten,
Soothing a loved one,
Comforting a friend or someone you do not even know.
How often have your hands been folded in prayer,
A sign of both their powerlessness and their power.
Remember your elders guiding you in the great symbolic language of hands,
Guiding you in times of trouble,
Reaching out to lead or to be led,
A handshake,
Clapping,
The wave of a hand in hello or goodbye.
There is a mystery which we discover in the hands of the person that we love,
Comforting and filling our souls through touch.
There are the hands of a doctor,
A nurse,
An artist,
A conductor,
Perhaps what you can never forget,
The healing movement of their fingers dancing with energy.
Slowly touch each fingertip to your thumb and once again,
Experience the fullness,
The strength and the maturity of your hands.
Now,
Slowly raise your right hand and gently place it over your heart.
Press more firmly until your hand picks up the beat of your heart,
That most mysterious of all human sounds,
Your own heartbeat,
A rhythm learned in the womb of the heartbeat of your mother.
Press more firmly for a moment,
Then release your hand and hold it just a fraction from your clothing.
Again,
Experience the warmth between your hand and your heart.
And now,
Very carefully,
Lower your hand as if it were carrying your heart,
For indeed it does.
When you extend your hand to another,
It is not just bone and skin,
It is your heart you are offering.
Think now of all the hands that have left their imprint on you,
Fingerprints,
Handprints of your parents and grandparents,
Sisters,
Brothers,
Girlfriends,
Boyfriends,
Wives,
Husbands,
Children,
Friends,
And those we do not know.
They are all,
Each of them,
Heartprints that can never be erased.
The hand has its own memory.
Think of all the places that carry your handprints,
And all the people that bear your heartprints.
They are indelible and will last forever.
Your kindness felt like the fragrance of a flower on their soul.
Slowly touch each fingertip to your thumb.
And one last time,
With a slow inhale and exhale,
Experience the fullness,
The strength,
The strength,
And the maturity of your hands.
Let your hands speak,
And allow them to listen,
Expressing gratitude for all that is,
All that was,
All that will be.
Gratitude for everything that they touch.
Allow them to express your deepest emotion,
Your unconditional love,
Your compassion,
The joy in your heart,
Your gift to the world,
You,
Your hands,
Love.
