Thoughts Have Hands

Today full of grace

Friends with ears open
A will to listen
A lesson in divine touch
Awakens ears
Opens hearts
Yearning to speak

THH
9/8/24

Be still

Really still, I’m told.

Sit alone 

Do nothing 

Slip off the engagement ring 

of speaking and directing,

Seek a space for listening.

Don’t think of what’s coming,

Plan nothing, 

Sit back,

Stop scrolling,

Make no sound,

Forget proposing.

Stay with silence, 

Empty as a chilled house 

So still I hear my heart beat 

Feel air blanket my aging skin 

Breathe life’s time in.

In this silence, I know so well,

my senses quiver,

bleed and blend, with 

Shouts at blameless walls 

Hear the echoes of sobs 

welling from within

Mocking my demands for

a magical accounting.

I tremble and crumble 

sling words at the page,

Know they fail to touch 

the depth of this reckoning.

Forget expectations,

Make no explanations, 

Create holy space to dwell

In between past directions 

and important questions.

Being still 

Really still 

In anticipation of some recognition,

A fool’s salvation,

As afternoon sunlight slides 

along the floor 

Leaving me to wonder

Is there anything more

To search for?

THH

9/9/24

Take time

She’s all you’ve got

Make believe she’s yours 

Even though she surely is not.

Use her while you can

Get to know her moves 

Always forward,

Never back.

Take time with her,

For she gives what she will,

And never rests.

But if you fail to take her to dance 

You commit a crime against chance.

Time gives nothing away.

She is never free;

She owes no debts,

But steals you blind, 

Day after day,

Expects you to follow her lead,

And yet for her we continue to pray.

Time never asks to dance

Time’s a bitch if you fail to use her,

She’s all you have

You never want to lose her.

Time is a queen. 

She reigns with authority,

Gives no thought to justice,

Refuses to number days,

She moves to a subtle beat, 

Then turns all you know to dust.

And leaves you behind.

Take time now 

While she will play with you 

Dance with her all you can,

Swing her around,

Smile at her while at play,

For sooner or later

No longer will you sway her.

Take time now while still able.

She is no clock to wind

Over and over,

And where you begin is not 

where on the dance floor 

you will end.

You do not own her.

You cannot control her.

She can’t be bought.

Time sings one mysterious song,

Writes her perfect bridge 

Invites you over.

Time offers no wisdom traveling east

She follows no star.

She cares nothing for the past,

or who you are,

But always has the last laugh.

So play along as long as she’s willing, 

Hold her loosely 

Follow her lead,

Always remember 

When you hold her close

It is certain one day 

She will leave.

Time is a witches brew

Serving potions of hope and despair, 

Love and pain,

Open to the spice of life, 

Showering senses with fire and ice. 

Take time while you may

She’s all you’ve got.

Time never lingers,

And no promises does she make.

Learn time’s siren song,

And sing along wisely.

For when her music ends

No goodbye will be proffered.

For time gives away nothing,

Remains coldly independent,

And at the bitter end 

When your time comes to an end,

And she slips soundlessly out the door

She leaves nothing

But your dust on the floor.

THH

9/2/24

No code exists

No plan outlined 

beyond child’s play in the sand

No fortune or fate easily discerned 

We plow fields with no guarantees,

Make art with little guidance beyond stories we were taught, 

Or willingly face.

The given given,

Not by willing hearts,

But carved by idol worshippers who 

Defend long held prejudice,

protect cherished memory of

Power and privilege.

They peddle novel thrills to the crowd

Distract from learning better.

So much past remains hidden from view,

buried under useless debris,

stored in attics rarely visited.

Only the bravest dig deep,

Inspect pain and loss, 

discover memories of abuse

question distortions

dropped in dirty alleys, 

briefly inhabited for sheer entertainment,

between main streets we walk in daylight.

Our days are assemblages of duties, play and expectations 

met and regularly unmet.

Imperfect in the most human of ways.

Our nights intended for rest and recovery become nests of turmoil, 

Calling for a stiff drink poured to relieve tension, 

Take the edge off fantasies, assuage sleep;

A game, a movie watched in reverie

with dangling carrots just out of reach,

Showing us the gold,

Instilling a will to work,

Longing for perfection, never complete,

For dreams of comfort and consolation 

Believing impossibilities, 

Finally to achieve desires we would die for.

Think, when do we finally get all we actually deserve, as if we knew the meaning of deserve.

Wait impatiently, feet tapping out make believe rhymes as if we had learned the secret code.

Nothing is owed, nothing is earned,

All we can do 

Is love imperfectly

Smile knowingly 

Act accordingly.

THH

With thanks to Becca Stevens

8/30/24

To the one who is and always will be

Direct my resolve to act honestly.

Reduce my hunger for praise, 

Keep me from playing to an audience,

And help me focus squarely on scripts that matter. 

With others – be myself 

By myself – be loving and forgiving 

Weave with the threads of my time 

a story of authenticity,

Full of caring 

To make a life worth remembering. 

Be evening’s stiff drink – a solace for feelings of loss and sadness, 

The long walk – providing balance and contrast to flights of fantasy, 

Sunshine – to warm a frosty heart,

Offer a distant horizon – to renew stale vision, 

The cool mountain stream- to give solitude and comfort ground for being, 

The embracing community – open to hearing questions, and discipline to listen.

Show me the way to be fully human — find joy 

In who I come to be, 

Live in faith as a loyal servant of your reality, 

in solidarity with fraternity,

between the depths of silence and beloved community.

THH

8/29/24

Inspire me this day with creativity 

Teach me new ways to be authentic,

Not just seek praise or Your favor.

Bless me with silence before taking action.

Show me the grace playing between word and deed.

Mindful of the difference between artful doing, and tangled webs of fantasy;

Help me mind my own damn business 

And keep from meddling.

Assist me to walk your way of love.

Give me faith to let go anxiety, hate 

and frustration.

Grant reason and skill to build better community.

Hands to embrace hospitality,

An open heart to exude passion for living,

And grace to wonder at your divine mysteries.

THH

8/15/24

Make me fully present in this sacred moment.

Give me loving eyes to see all persons

As they are and hope to be,

Ears to hear with empathy 

The thoughts and feelings spoken.

Assist me to be honest with myself,

And treat with charity and justice 

Each person I meet.

Grant me courage to greet with humble gratitude the majesty of creation,

A healing hand to promote human flourishing

And make of the world

The garden of love and delight intended.

THH

8/13/24

A day like no other came Sunday.

Though every day, sunrise to sunset,
Bears a fullness : some cold and overcast,

others a dry see-through blue,
The weather blessed today,
Inviting a quiet letting go.

A perfect moment,
raised no thought of an end,
A fullness bordering on weightlessness,
An emptiness missing nothing.

A breeze cooled the skin
And my attention
Untied from the wharf’s cleat of doing,

let slip the rope of intention, to

drift in waters of acceptance.

Anxiety bobbed on the line then gave up,
Anger at unjust loss and self importance

floated down stream.

Worries of how long and what’s next fell

Asleep,

Moments though many, became one presence.

Sunlight warmed the backyard.
Birds took a siesta.
Miles forgot chasing squirrels.
And I dwelled with thoughts of enough,

Unresolved tensions and storms of experience once stirred a sense of foreboding,

The trickster plans to lead me into the deep

And let me sink incomplete.

Emotions rippled across streams of consciousness into a peaceful so what,

The tingle of anticipation lost its thrill and was reduced to peace without and within,

The moment begged frustrations loosen an unfriendly grip,
Stop fishing for more
And in gentle persistence recite a prayer:

It is enough.

The blessing soothed worries
over things done, left undone,
The nebulous and ill considered.

A cleansing breeze buoyed hopes of rebirth.

A time without counting.

Spread through the evening air

Silently enchanting a sad heart.

Worthy of this evening’s need for thanksgiving

A blessing of more than enough.

THH
8/13/24

Revised 9/10/24

A day like no other came Sunday.

Though every day, sunrise to sunset,

Carries a fullness of its own: some cold and overcast, others humid and hot, a mix of too little or too much.

But the weather blessed this day with quiet calm, 

Inviting a letting go.

A breeze cooled the skin

And with close attention

My mind

Untied from the wharf’s cleat of doing,

Drifted in pools of acceptance.

Distant sounds made no impact.

The moments though many felt like one.

A perfect moment, raising no thought of an end, 

A fullness bordering on weightlessness, 

An emptiness where nothing is missing.

Sunlight warmed the backyard.

Birds took a siesta. 

Miles forgot chasing squirrels.

And I sat dwelling on enough, how long, and what comes next.

Emotions rippled streams of consciousness, bobbing anxiety, 

Anger at unjust loss, 

worry about control, and self importance, stirred by storms without and within.

So much unresolved tension 

Uncertain successes and fear of failure,

Leave a foreboding sense 

time will let me sink incomplete.

So much, then to be done. So many concerns.

But the moment begged frustrating 

expectations 

to loosen their grip.

And with gentle persistence recited a prayer 

Called enough.

The blessing soothed worries 

over things done, and not done, 

The nebulous and ill considered.

Cleansing air surfaced hopes of rebirth around me. A gift of time without counting. 

A reverie spread through the evening air

Silently enchanting a sad heart,

Like the scent of baked bread,

Rising quietly, the aroma awakening 

the nose to partial knowing.

Expectations exhaust thinking. 

Worry churns discontent.

Mind chases wind without intervention. 

But Sunday’s unexpected gift 

should not be forgotten in the colorful bows, glitter, and hand wrapped signs of 

human desire.

May I celebrate forgiving my cravings and learn the meaning of enough.

With a peace beyond my understanding,

Worthy of evening’s need for thanksgiving.

THH

8/10/24

When I’m up

I am ready to go

Running like crazy

In the flow.

When I’m down

I can be really be low

Unable to move

Unable to go.

I’m not on medication,

But I may be slightly ADHD

Not a doctor you see.

Only trying to see my way

through the day

Wondering what’s next

to come my way.

The flow is a thrill;

The low makes me feel ill,

But it comes and goes,

So right down to my toes

I hold tight the reins,

And steer my way through rainy days,

Looking for good company

On the many good days

To laugh and play the rest of my days.

THH

8/5/24