Hands

There's something very powerful and immediate about hands.

One of my favorite places to escape is Seminole Canyon State Historical Park in south Texas. The park is west of Del Rio between the Rio Grande and Hwy 90 and it contains a number of Pecos River style examples of rock art. On one tour, because the day was overcast, these hands which are usually difficult to see, stood out. Our guide explained that unlike other art in the area, these hands were not painted. Rather, the artist or artists painted their hands and stamped them on the wall. So, here for all to see were hand prints, several thousand years old. Here is an immediacy not mitigated by brushes and the temptation was to put my hand on one of these hands and to create a physical connection with a soul from the distant past.

So what is so special about hands. As I study my own I see evidence in scars -- there's a long one where I stuck my hand through a piece of glass when I was 17. Oddly, I find it on my right hand while I was sure it was on my left -- memory. There are callouses on my fingers from years of guitar and even one on the pad under my wedding ring. Almost every knuckle bears scars from that old Camaro I had which needed some kind of repair each weekend. It seems like I couldn't do anything on that engine without cutting or bruising myself. In other words, I can read a lot of my personal history by studying these hands of mine.

Also in these hands are memories of a more gentle nature -- touching those I loved whether spouse, children, friends.

It's hard to imagine any part of myself that is so reflective of who I am.

So, when I look at these ancient hands on a shelter wall in Seminole Canyon, I wonder about the individual(s) who created them. What scars are there to see; what message was attempted?