Where are my hands touching this globe tonight? And where are yours?
On this day, my physical hands are touching our apartment walls in Portland Oregon, USA
I look out the window here and see tall evergreen trees swaying in the breeze, various buildings, a grade school, plus their sports field, an area of green grass that stretches out for perhaps 1/2 of a block. Below our 4th floor apartment, is a busy street, where the hum of traffic and an occasional siren penetrate through the closed windows.
My heart’s “hands” are touching our apartment in Natal, RN, Brazil.
In Natal, the windows and sliding doors that open onto a tiny balcony are always open. (When a rain squall comes in from the ocean I “run fast” with my cane, closing them quickly.) It is a very small apartment: my “nest.” When I look out the 3rd floor windows, interspersed between hotels and apartment buildings I see views of the ocean’s tossing waves and a large sand dune about three blocks down the hill. The street below is cobblestone: some of the stones missing in a couple of places so the cars driving through are cautious. The sounds that drift up into our apartment are an occasional car, voices of pedestrians walking by, and the small wind chimes make a light, clear ringing sound, hanging in the open sliding door.
You and I may be from different continents, different nationalities, and different cultures. Perhaps the color of outer skin on our bodies is different.
But – inside that skin, we are similar. Our bodies have red blood that our hearts pump. Our brains are in our heads, between our ears. (Sometimes I wonder about mine?)
Have you looked at yourself? Checking to see what your physical hands are touching?
And in your memories? What are your heart’s hands touching?
What did you find?