an image of my own upturned cupped hands has persisted for me for years, arriving first deep into the sleepless season of acute grief, and then returning to visit sometimes when I am on the cusp of something
my hands, a symbol of surrender sometimes, of willingness to receive, of openness, of no longer knowing what to hold on to…also comes as a symbol of offering and release.
as I look ahead to Sunday’s mindfulness workshop, filled with 9(!) wonderful souls, I envision my hands, upturned, cupped
offering and receiving
