magic hands

These are my hands: thin-skinned and keenly reflective of their age, a fair display of the utilitarian necessity of our phalanges. Decades of sizing myself up against cultural standards of beauty left me envying those I secretly considered the 'lucky ones': gender siblings with long, slender, small-knuckled fingers gracefully reaching out from supple, smooth-skinned hands. Tastefully embellished and neatly manicured, their fingers danced gracefully as sensual extensions of the female form, shaming my bony, veiny, well-jointed, ordinary extremities.

??Over the years, however, I realized that value cannot be determined by appearance, nor is appearance a determination of value. And more importantly, I recognized the subjective bias in all judgments of 'appearance' and the destructive folly of establishing and accepting standards for such things. Inspecting my own hands and comparing their aesthetic appeal to a predetermined standard of beauty is like gazing at a breath-taking view of the Rockies and judging its beauty against the Himalayan Mountain Range. Why make a comparison at all?? They're two unique geological formations, each beautiful in its own right. It would be ridiculous to hold one as a standard by which to measure the other, much less all other mountain ranges! Comparing my hands to someone else's was no different.

??In truth, my hands are priceless. Their beauty and worth is beyond the comprehension of corporate marketers, and outside the realm of human understanding. They hold far greater value than the eye can see, and are much more than utilitarian or decorative appendages. My hands are a physical extension of WHO I AM--they're living expressions of my Personhood. Formerly characterizing them as plain and humble, I now know they've always been anything but . . . I now know that they're magic. But unlike the wares of the illusionist, these tools contain Real Magic: they enable me to share with others that which dwells deep within the core of my being. They empower me to affect others with the unspeakable mysteries of what it means to be human. My hands are mouthpieces of my heart. These magic hands can speak volumes with their silence, they can heal without medicine, and they can spread love and acceptance whenever and wherever it's needed.

??These are my hands, and they are beautiful.