58 posts categorized "The Poetry of Hands"

The Poetry of Hand-made, 48

Solstice_rabbitRabbit turns his face toward the pre-solstice morning sun as it bends towards him / Solstice minus two days, Dec. 19, 2012

"Room was found for Jorge in the inn of human generosity..." (Michael Doyle)

Help us all to create room in our own inns of human generosity. Human generosity of time and spirit and forgiveness. Help us expand our inn to whatever size is necessary. Today and every day.


The Poetry of Hands, 46

Zivili"A Friendly Interest in Things" / Sv. Vid, Croatia / May 2005

“A friendly interest in persons is a form of affectionateness, but not the form which is grasping and possessive and seeking always an emphatic response. This latter form is very frequently a source of unhappiness. The kind that makes for happiness is the kind that likes to observe people and finds pleasure in their individual traits, that wishes to afford scope for the interests and pleasures of those with whom it is brought into contact without desiring to acquire power over them or to secure their enthusiastic admiration. The person whose attitude towards others is genuinely of this kind will be a source of happiness and a recipient of reciprocal kindness. His relations with others, whether slight or serious, will satisfy both his interests and his affections; ... To like many people spontaneously and without effort is perhaps the greatest of all sources of personal happiness.”

~ Bertrand Russell, The Conquest of Happiness, 1930


The poetry of hands, 45

Hennahands"There exists in the world a single path along which no one can go except you: whither does it lead? Do not ask, go along it" (Nietzsche) / Oct. 2011

“...everything bears witness to what we are, our friendships and enmities, our glance and clasp of our hand, our memory and that which we do not remember, our books and our handwriting.”

~ an excerpt from Friedrich Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations


The poetry of hands, 43

Busy_hands Old and new: the younger hand-sewing and the older e-mailing / August 2011

"My father’s in my fingers, but my mother’s in my palms.
I lift them up and look at them with pleasure –
I know my parents made me by my hands."

~ an excerpt from the poem Genetics by Sinéad Morrissey


The poetry of hands, 42

There_it_is There it is! / Long Beach Island, NJ

This was the auspicious evening when we gathered up high on the crow's nest and the giant red ball of the setting sun was lost in the clouds to the west so we turned to the east and thought we saw the familiar dark forms of dolphins in the water moving past us when suddenly a huge round, white-bellied whale heaved itself straight up and out of the water, danced a moment above, and then crashed and splashed back into the depths leaving us all staring in wonderment.


The poetry of hands, 39

Poetryofhands_39The blue team gets ready for a run / Sept. 2010

“John was a poet, and he knew about words. He knew that all men and all women are mysteries known only to themselves until they speak a word that opens up the mystery. He knew that the words people speak have their life in them just as surely as they have their breath in them. He knew that the words people speak have dynamite in them and that a word may be all it takes to set somebody's heart on fire or break it in two. He knew that words break silence and that the word that is spoken is the word that is heard and may even be answered.”

~ Frederick Buechner writing about John the Evangelist