What's in a Name?

Good question, Shakespeare. Why did I name this blog "love, hands, poetry"? One answer to that question is because when I write, I feel like love flows through my hands to create something poetic. And another answer is that I feel the same way when I do healing touch work: love flows through me to my hands and brings a healing experience to another person (and me in return), which is a poetic moment, if you ask me.

In writing, I write from my heart in order to connect with my readers, with whatever eyes or ears happens upon my words and feels something in them that stirs a memory of their soul's home, the place we came from before, what I call God. In the act of creating with words, I reach deep into myself to find the Word, from where all words flow. And then I let them flow...in gratitude for being given the gift of hearing them and knowing them, for the gift of a loving creator who made us to be creative, and the gift of my body and hands which allow me to give expression to those words and touch the hearts and minds and souls of others.

In healing work it feels very much the same to me, but looks different.  I connect to Divine Love, the source of all healing, then heart connect with the person I am working with, and let whatever good is in the heart of the Divine for that person at that moment to flow through me. If you take the commas out of my blog title, it reads "love hands poetry", which is another way of saying "God gives healing". Mother Teresa said, "Where there is love, there is God." And that is where the love comes from that I bring to my writing and to my healing work, not from me, but from God in Me.

Mother Teresa is one of my inspirations, not because she was some great and talented person, but because of her humility in allowing God's love to flow through her. To do this, she spent time every day in silence and contemplation to fill herself with this presence, this healing energy, which is pure love, and then she let that love flow from her to others in need of it. In slums of Calcutta, in a place almost completely lacking in the idea of human dignity, she brought to people the idea that they are loved and valued by caring for them, tending to their sickness and wounds, feeding them, giving them a bed to sleep in.

That is love. That is using her hands for healing. That is a poetic life. Love, hands, poetry. Would a blog by any other name retain that dear perfection which it owes that title? Perhaps so. But I'm calling it perfect.