We are the hands of heaven
A very wise man gave me a gift the other day: hands of heaven. He gave them to me energetically, during a speech. The best speech I ever heard, by a far piece, though I didn’t understand a word of it other than, “Do you understand?” The reason I understood was because there was a translator.
The cosmic power of the brain waves behind those words was what I listened to mostly anyway. Didn’t even have to use my ears. I am becoming energy-sensitive and can read waves as well as ride them.
Does that sound weird? Good thing I’m an imaginary character or I would be totally screwed, normalcy-wise. Not that I care. Other people do appear to mind somewhat, however, and I respect the good opinion of others. Others seem to have their shit together better than myself, so I don’t mind trusting them.
I’m about to break the normal barrier completely for those nurtured in the embalming bosom of our present western worldview. Sar (that means I’m half-sor/ry in neo-vallyspeak).
You see, not only am I now the possessor of extraordinarily valuable new hands, I also have feet. A part of me had never realized that somehow, for as soon as I grasped my stockinged foot with magic hands, a cry of woe and wonderment sprang from my mouth unbidden, “My foot, my foot!” A river of sorrow and regret and tears, and a deep-felt request for forgiveness, flowed from me to my foot, or both of them, one at a time. All these years I hardly knew I had them. There was also a supreme feeling of joy, to know that such a foot could be mine. Two of them no less! Now I can go places.
I have no idea why my hands of heaven would be drawn to my feet so, and how such hands could be so healing to my very soul. The whole thing is a mystery. All I can do with my rational mind is try to figure out what could be the meaning of such a mysterious experience. My feet are my connection to our ancient mother, for one thing, the beloved earth. They are what ground me. Also in the sacred pun-talk of dreams, the sole of the foot can be equated with the soul itself.
But who knows? Those are guesses. Energy has its own reasons, unintelligible to the neocortex.
And when you think about it, the hands of humanity are the hands of the earth too, grown slowly over eons, always reaching higher and higher, evolving from rock ‘n water to cilia to the miracle of the dancer’s or the healer’s or the musician’s or the builder’s hands. Hands of heaven and earth.
Your homebody,
LWIII
Hi from Calgary, Canada
Made it home after extra day in the mountains due to landslide. Mago has her own agenda.
Your site is !@!?@!, which is to say beyond words, more like energy itself. Your new found or at least evolved energy….vortex, foot grounding, enlightened ENERGY!
Next I’ll catch up on your book….I want you tell you this is stepping out of my comfort zone to reply on the web!like this.
Perhaps you remember me, or not.I was left very thoughtful and quesitonning my purpose after the weekend. Still processing and hanging somewhere between misty eyes and ear to ear smiles. Catching up on yard work was my excuse to be outside and loving it.
Keep blogging and living large.
joy and gratitude,
Diane
Hi Diane, thanks for popping in, and for the very nice words! I do remember you and guess now we can finally have our conversation.
Congrats on stepping out of the comfort zone, dear, that’s what I’m working on too.
Peace on ya!
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