After a couple of weeks of excuses I went into my nicely tidied meditation room, (cleared the ironing so the atmosphere of undone chores disappears and the serenity of a clear conscience gets some space:-). I lit a candle and switched on the Buddha music.

To the lovely sounds of Wei Li I moved through my own flow. Looking at myself in the mirror I thought that it looked as if I've gained some weight. No, wait: truthfully?  I thought: God you're getting fat. I recognized the thought and also thought: Man! you've got your fat glasses on!

So I turned 90 degrees and looked out the window as I went on. Slightly irritated by my own thoughts but determined, with gritted teeth, to go on. Until I got to lay my back on the mat, hunker the bum right up to the cupboard door and swing the legs up: like an L. There I lay and relaxed into the pose. My hands landed up in front of my face and I frowned: they are looking really battered and beaten: an accident with a mandolin and another sharp kitchen appliance has had me going through bandages and plasters like a mother at a boys' birthday party. this is what one second of distraction can do (I was reading a recipe on my tablet??!!).

IMG_20150620_164608IMG_20150620_164550So now: I'm lying on the floor, legs in the air and I look at my hands. The bandage has been replaced by a ratty plaster. The other minor wound is a little red spot. There is a scar at the base of my forefinger where brother Ian and I argued about a kitchen knife and my finger lost. There is a bump with a red mark: leftover from an allergic reaction to an insect bite on the cycle trip. My nails are dirty, eeew. Need to cut them. One nail broke off short, looks gross. That was cooking for the grandchildren: what a weekend. The others are too long and need shaping.


Gosh, my hands are looking old! 

Hand Look at the wedding ring: 45 years this year: I'm so glad he is still with me. Lots of years, lots of laughter, and tears. Worries and anger and disappointment. But oh, the loving has been worth it! And the disappointments: what were they actually? Not that important, obviously, if I can't remember them...the ring to replace the engagement ring stolen, the loving thought that went into that.

Still very much my mother's hands. Age is making the fingers a little more crooked, There are age spots there: isn't a hand a wondrous thing? Look at what I have done with these! 62 years' worth of work and play, creativity and tenderness. What could I have done without them? Imagine a life with no senses: just your hands. No hearing? you can sign and see another sign. No sight? Feel the face, touch the tree. No voice: tell it with your hands. But the hands: they do, they touch and feel and sense and talk and do. All the time. Feed us, dress us. Earn our living, touch our loved ones. I love my hands. Wrinkled and spotty and scarred. They are truly beautiful. Fat glasses or thin glasses?  Who cares, as long as my hands are doing my living for me.