My hands are where all the angst in my life seems to migrate. I sometimes wake up to find my hands in tight fists, curled up into the crook of my neck. I chew and pick on the skin around my thumbs, a nervous habit that makes for not-so-pretty hands. I catch myself rubbing and twisting my hands as I think, almost as if I'm rubbing on hand lotion.
And so I've been concentrating on bringing some calm into these two hyper and dysfunctional body parts. By simply laying my hands down with palms up, I've captured a peace that has long eluded me.
In church I always sit in the same third row, the same seat. Very few people sit in front of me (most people stick to the back pews), and this means very few distractions as I pray, meditate and just "be." This Sunday, as I listened to the sermon, I lay my hands, palms-up, on my knees, and it was so relaxing. I felt a sense of vulnerability and calm that almost seemed to heighten my senses, opening me up to experiencing exactly what I come to church for.
While driving, whichever hand is not on the steering wheel, is palm-up on my leg or armrest. Again, helping to create a sense of calm, especially on the hellacious commute I have to and from work.
I fell asleep on Sunday night with the same goal in mind. I always sleep on my side, but this time instead of the hands curling into my neck, I lay them on the pillow next to my head. It's almost as if, when I relax my hands, instead of being these magnets of negative energy, they turn into two resting souls lying on their backs in the warmth of the sunshine. I can feel my pulse, steady. I can hear myself think clearer. Things are put into perspective. And all because of my hands opening up.
I suppose that is what a lot of yoga is about, this positive energy flow. Now to concentrate on not using my thumbs as morning, afternoon and evening chew toys.
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