Hands. The other night I was at a meditation where the teacher was talking about loving kindness, or metta. I've been trying to practice metta towards myself the past few days, and I'm trying to start small, with something I don't have trouble loving. Knowing all my own faults and flaws, it can be hard to feel like I deserve loving kindness, so I started just extending metta toward...my fingernails. I mean, surely they are deserving of peace, safety, happiness, and joy, right? I know, it's a bit silly. I even kind of laughed at myself, wondering if my fingernails would feel the goodness I am sending them, and if they would somehow respond by growing extra long and healthy, haha. Oh wait, am I trying to get something out of this meditation? Gotta let go of that goal :P Then I moved on to feeling metta toward my fingers.
And last night, I tried to extend loving kindness to my whole hand. Surprisingly, that's where I got hung up. I started thinking about all the things my hands have done in the past 33 years. They played beautiful (and sometimes not) music on the flute, typed legal documents for a criminal defense lawyer, shaken hands with hundreds of people, turned tens of thousands of pages in books. Written love letters, condolence letters, letters of resignation. They've made IV medication for sick patients that maybe helped save lives, or maybe didn't. They've knitted and crocheted probably a million stitches--shawls, scarves, hats, sweaters, socks--for myself, family and friends, and strangers. They've signed checks and endorsed checks; they've picked up pennies off the ground (hey, they add up over time, and rent is wicked expensive). My hands have picked up dog poop, scooped cat litter, vacuumed, washed dishes, folded laundry, cleaned the bathroom (infrequently, admittedly). My hands have put a ring on another person's finger1. They have planted seeds, harvested fruits and vegetables, and turned compost. They've filled out entirely too much paperwork (!) and signed releases of liability (yes, I understand horses can be dangerous and could kill me; yes, I agree not to sue GallopNYC for harm that might come to me while volunteering). They've put entirely too many cookies in my mouth, and probably too few fruits and vegetables :P
My hands have been tools that I don't give much thought to. They've done a lot of good things for myself and others, and some not so good things. They've probably missed opportunities to do more good for the world, but they've still got time. I suppose my hands are a pretty good place to really focus some loving kindness, and be more mindful about what they are doing or not doing.
P.S. I was trying to find an interesting and appropriate photo to include with this post. Something of my hands, doing something. I found the expected photos of my hands spinning yarn or knitting or crocheting, petting a cat or dog, etc. But I think this one is quite unexpected and a bit fun: my hands, weilding a chainsaw at the Becoming an Outdoors Woman (BOW) workshop in Tomahawk, WI back in 2013. It wasn't our first choice class, but it was pretty awesome to try, once, haha. They instilled a good fear/respect for the chainsaw in the classroom before we got to use one. My hands also practiced archery, sewing racoon fur mittens, and climbing 40 feet into a pine tree at the workshop. Dang, I need to do another BOW! It was so great to do something totally outside my normal. Thanks to my sister, Beth, for taking this photo.
1 And, painfully, removed a ring from my own finger years later.
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