Hands
Earned their keep
These hands of mine
“The doors to the world of the wild Self are few but precious. If you have a deep scar, that is a door, if you have an old, old story, that is a door. If you love the sky and the water so much you almost cannot bear it, that is a door. If you…
Finally! A nice day! Yeh! See Maery doing the happy dance! You know it’s been tough weather-wise when a bit of sun and temps in the 60s make you crazily jubilant! Lots got done today – raking, cutting down some buckthorn, gathering and burning branches, clearing flower beds of leaves and old growth, a couple…
On Tuesday, I received in the mail some photos that my ex sent me. They must have gotten mixed with his things when he left me over three years ago. There were photos of the first meeting with my birth sister, my first meeting with my birth brother (also given up for adoption), my birth…
When life (or retirement) doesn’t go as planned, I have found that you can mope away your life or you can make adjustments. That doesn’t mean you have to go all Pollyannish. There is nothing wrong with taking the time you need to grieve. But even when you are grieving, I have found that it…
I know this is long, but if you are a writer or woman of a certain age, it is so worth reading (I can say that because I’m just the messenger, not the brains of the message). I spent the weekend at a writing conference for writers over fifty at Open Book in Minneapolis. I…
This post contains my first attempt at doing an “educational” video. Perhaps someone powerful will see this, marvel at my talent, and hire me as a broadcaster or public speaker. I might even get my own TV show. It can only get better than this No where to go but up Which way to look…
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Fantastic! These hands have earned their keep? I love that! And your photographs are stunning – as are your hands! I often think that way about my body in general – you know, that it’s earned its keep – but specifically hands? What a lovely meditation. I loved, loved, loved this and will look at my age spotted, somewhat scarred, crepe paper textured skin hands more lovingly and appreciatively after reading this.
Your hands, poem, and photos, are beautiful. (but I do know the feeling of looking at my own hands and thinking “who’s are these?”)
Lynn