I had the most delightful experience this week.
I was set to stay in a service queue for over an hour, and needed to determine what to do. It was not something I was relishing. But I surrendered to the experience of waiting.
Scanning the large waiting room, my instinct pulled me clearly to a particular empty seat. Right behind a barefoot girl, dressed in white and pink.
I sat down and settled in. And then. A small hand reached out from beneath the chair in front of me. Palm open, ready to greet.
I placed my open palm on hers.
For an entire minute we linked.
A tiny African hand and mine. Open. Energetically transmitting. Mother and Grandmother beside her conversing. While she and I, heart to heart, through the palms of our hands, silently communicating.
Until she was ready for our faces to meet.
She turned around. Inviting eyes, ready to play, beckoned me. We became friends immediately. Chatted briefly about pink and purple and princesses. Then moving beside me, with her supplies of art and playthings, we tickled hands and feet, and drew pictures, of each other, as pretty as could be.
Not talking, just doing, the important work, of being.
The hour passed quickly, and pleasantly. And reminded me, of how the innocence of an open hand and heart, instils calm presence and peaceful things.
An intimate opening to our brief friendship. A delightful hour of kinship. This little soul of enormous heart and connection. Knew I needed her caring attention.
May you all connect with soulful presence, and a peaceful heart in gentle hand, whenever you need it.
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