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As we move towards summer, our home is abuzz with with energy. I notice myself flit from task to task. After the postpartum hibernation of winter and the slow unfurling of spring, I am ready to return to doing.
My second born son is now six months old, and he has begun to explore the world. I watch him reach for what lies ahead, his little, chubby hands grasping with wonder. Every tiny movement is carried out with such intention. I realize how often I cruise through my day on auto pilot, rarely deeply aware of how I interface with the world.
So, I decided to practice noticing the ways in which I use my hands. And from that exercise of being present, this poem emerged:
These hands Long and narrow Touch more than I ever stop to realize These hands Brown and strong Stretch to and fro without much appreciation At all And so, I decide To take note of how These hands Cuddle my baby Moisturize my lips Change a diaper Pick up a glass of water Open a door Start a video on the fluid nervous system -- Then, I remember I want to move through my day More mindful of More thankful for More present with These hands Hold my heart Set a pillow on the ground Slide down my shirt to nurse Lay my baby down to sleep Caress my husband’s chest My fingers tingle with awareness These hands Play the guitar Wash the dishes Tidy the house Hug my eldest Take out the trash All of these connections Within the span of just one morning These hands Hold so much more than I usually pay attention to These hands Have the power to create The power to destroy These hands Can infuse love into all that they trace If only I made the time to marvel At all the ways These hands Make contact with the world
This week, I invite you to move your hands with presence. Take note of what it feels like to bring your awareness to all that you touch.
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In All Honesty,
Maris
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