Greetings each
I was sent this as an email which I have unfortunately deleted. So I will post from memory .which may be not that accurate lol.So I have decided to put it in my own words as I think it is quite fitting and I hope those that show an interest in it will do the same .
HANDS
As i grow older, there are days which in which I look back into my past. When I look at my hands . The whole story is there from the very start.
From the very start of my life. My hand reached out to my mother for comfort. They have fed my body to keep me alive.They have been taught to hold a pen so I can communicate with friends far away. They have clenched in anger. They have held a friend in comfort.held a another hand in friendship.They have waved hello and goodbye.
The bear the signs of learning not to touch fire ,leave broken glass alone. To some they are a means to read, to guide ,to stop,To defend oneself if attacked, a gesture of aid and assistance.
As I move on in years. It held a rifle in times of war and unrest, they have handled all manor of items which would cause death and destruction to a fellow human being.I am not certain if these hands ever took a life.On reflection I would hope not.
These hands have toiled to earn my living to feed my family.They have put clothes on my children . they have held them close in protection.and so the circle goes on.
I gaze at my hands , the history of who I was, who I am now is there to be seen,the softness at birth my not be visual but the touch is and I hope that softness continues.An open hand is emptiness it can give and receive.A clenched fist is no more than a display of anger.
They can do so much.given the chance.they are instruments of the mind.
The salute. this hand on my brow shows all of you who I am. I am no longer afraid my hands tell all.The offer friendship,compassion and aid to those who wish it.
Yours in the spirit of Budo
Mike
