Hands-Free Living
Do you juggle your way down the path on your exercise walk, fingers tangled in your spaghetti mess of wires to your iThis or iThat? I find my knuckles knocking with my berry bucket, sunglasses, phone and my vagabond eyeglasses, maybe the hose and a clump of wet wash to hang before I head out somewhere important, like blackberry picking.
Yipes.
Yesterday I literally ran away from my house, leaving no note, my phone on the table, my eyeglasses wandering the house aimlessly, and laundry flapping in the breeze. It felt so good to breathe and know the only multi-tasking going on in that moment was my head, my heart and my soul enjoying this walk. No phone calls. No photos. No notes to self. No clothespins. Nuttin’.
Might you consider some hands-free living this weekend?
My car has a hook-up doodle thing that lets me use my phone without crashing in to light poles. Hands-free dialing they call it.
I like that fine. I do get to take care of a few phone calls calmly in my car if I am in a good cell coverage spot. Here in the Berkshires that is not always the case. Much to my benefit, I think.
But. You. There, you, the one reading this post and so grateful I am that you are reading me today. What about your hands?
Can you free them up to pet your cat today?
Could you free your hands to hug a kid with nothing but your fingers pressing in to their tender skin?
Could you free your hands to just wrap your fingers around a clump of berries, showering blue in to your bucket, just like Sal in Robert McCloskey’s Blueberries for Sal?
Plink plink Plunk?
I did some double fisted berry picking today.
I found my left and right hands so happy to be engaged in collecting summer in to my strawberry box to take home for the big kids at my table.
My hands are big and tan and a bit wrinkly right now as I look at them, but smooth skinned for all the weather they see, the water, yarn, paint and glue that run through my fingers, my hands like to be free to engage in the world.
I notice so many people with phones and other stuff in their hands all day long.
Granted, the eyeglasses are safer there than in my pocket.
The phone in my hands means I won’t tip it in to the rain barrel bending over to fill up my watering bucket. But, this weekend, as I travel north, I am going to make a conscious choice to keep my hands free. I will report in over the next week on Hands-Free Living on the Laundry Line.
Catherine and I have a secret way of holding pinkies when our hands are too sweaty to hold, or if holding her Mom’s hand might tarnish her reputation. But, both she and Ben still like to hold on to my hands. I love to hold JNB’s hands. Major romance in hand holding.
All this, instead of a phone or glasses or anything else.
The better to hug you with my dear.
Love, S
