Clenched Fists
Images of clenched fists have invaded my inner space. It’s as if collectively we are floating in a sea of tight-fisted people who can’t decide whether to surrender to the deep, dark water or hang on with hope for a lifeline.
Ambiguity is prevalent with a vague, far away, distorted, fuzzy view in all directions. The in-between space that is often warm and creative is currently chilling.
My heart is searching for answers that are not obvious. Waiting, wondering, pushing fear away as I spin wanting a sign of how to navigate in the conditions of uncertainty.
Today I am remembering the fruitless effort to attempt to unclench fists that are tightly held. Instead, I am focusing on the counterculture tenderness that is felt when humans are cradled and held until the response to release expresses at its own pace and timing.
Fear of loss, fear of the other. Fear requires protection. Tenderness is not possible without safety. In this political climate, a huge challenge. We start with ourselves.
How many of us are in the same place? Too many.