Looking deep into the eyes of a fellow life traveler
Gives us a glimpse into the depths of their soul.
Hope, love, fear, are all expressed.
All are evident —none are hidden.
Yes, we can run but can’t hide from those who know us.
Hands?
Ever thought about what “hands” say?
Clues to one’s life journey are evident for us to admire.
Stories of rugged artisans speak on the delicate epidermis
as well as tales of musicians and authors are told on this canvas of life.
Rodin’s hands sculpture communicates – what?
Like many works of art – the interpretation changes
Over a period of time – more accurately the viewer’s
Mind’s eye sees a different figure over time.
A picture is included for you to meditate and ponder.
There are the hands of those who are difference makers
In our lives.
Whose hands do you remember? Your parents, the
Next door neighbor, a mentor? There may be a correlation between
those who matter to us and our memory of their hands.
The Hartwell family owned the Hummelstown Sun. A newsy, gossipy
small town paper printed each and every Friday. The linotype
operator was a gifted journalist, artist, and collector of miniature trains.
Intense, focused, and always available to coach, mentor and advise.
Metal was molten and transformed into brick like cubes with words.
Imprinted upon them using a keyboard . The metal was very toxic and
literally peeled away the skin from the hands of this talented man. Protective
bandages encircled his hands.
Blistery, raw, scarred bright red.
Year after year, day after day, he sat in his tiny metal framed, barely
cushioned chair, a bright light focused on
the copy he was transforming into the printed word.
Gifted with an encyclopedic mind, this giant in a small print shop, was a
mentor to us printer’s devils. Those hands, which carried incisive pain, spoke
volumes about determination, about providing space for artistry to overcome
pain and obstacles and about sharing talents with the next generation.
Somehow, his wrapped, blistering hands passed along talents and values. A
skill unique to mentors through the great classic thinkers like Aristotle,
Socrates, Plato.
The hands of a big man dedicated to his craft, making a difference in the small,
metal strewn corner of a small town paper.
On a more provocative level, here is a challenge. Close your eyes and picture
those who are/or have been the closest to you. No limits, no restrictions,
identify someone with whom your life has
been meaningfully intertwined.
Picture their hands. What do they look like? How do they feel?
The question of the day — can you see the hands of someone who
matters to you?
Is their a connection between being able to recall the hands of someone –and
the depth of your relationship? It maybe a pleasant surprise to discover who
comes to mind.
What is said, if anything, about those close to you, whose hands you cannot
bring to the front of your consciousness?
Oh yes, which current Presidential Candidate lived in Hummelstown, PA?
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