Everyday Canvas

Animal Eyes / The worth of a Past / Stories in our Hands

Prompt: “An animal’s eyes have the power to speak a great language.” (Martin Buber)
What do you think about the expressiveness of an animal’s eyes, and did you ever have an animal companion whose eyes almost talked to you?

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The principle of life is alive in the expressiveness of animal eyes. That principle also contains the animal’s connection to its environment and to the other species.

The animals we have as companions in our homes all gain expressiveness that we can understand or relate to, the longer they live and bond with us. Then, they make sure we understand their needs and wants.

Dogs and cats especially have tremendously expressive faces because they are mammals and share some very similar neural history with us. They almost talk to us through their eyes because they, too, are capable of feeling emotions. They may also have senses foreign to us, senses that may sound fictional if we could somehow understand and accept their existence.

If a person hasn’t had the privilege of spending time with an animal, that person may think them as being dumb or selfish. Yet, those of us who love animals and have spent time with them know that their brains are always in motion, gathering information and filing it. We only need to look into their eyes and expressive faces to see a world of thought and emotion going on, just like us.

Then, on the flip side, the animals accept us the way we are. That, most of the time, we as people have a problem doing.

PROMPT: We're often reminded to not dwell on the past, yet it can be said that there is no future without a past. Of these somewhat conflicting viewpoints, which one do you think is more applicable to you and your lifestyle, and why?

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Surely, dwelling on the past and reliving it constantly in regret or anger is a negative, but learning from the past is a positive. If we stopped learning from the past totally, we would have to go back to learning how to walk, talk, read, write, etc. That wouldn’t be too becoming, would it!

I am glad to have learned from the past, but I certainly do not want to go back again. I am not one of those people who wish to be younger, say nineteen or twenty-five. I would dread to be a young person again because as agilely as a body can behave at a younger age, there are other factors that might make life a living hell.

I am happy my youthful days are over, but I am also grateful I lived through them and came up with a life experience and philosophy. Those experiences have propelled me forward and I hope they will continue to do so as long as I live and breathe.

Writing from Remembrance-What stories are in your hands? I've always been fascinated with the lines and stories in people's hands. When you look at your palms what stories do they hold? What have your hands built?

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All kinds of stories are in my hands because my wish is their command. I know how to use them but sometimes they are in the harm's way, like the time when I mistakenly poured hot water on top of my left hand and the instances I let the paring knife leave cuts and scratches. Still, my hands are forgiving. They heal and continue to perform as if nothing has happened. They even aid me with my gestures and with old muscles that complain.

I am not into palmistry, and I can’t say what the lines inside my palms say; although, some people have read into those lines with questionable accuracy.

Yet, my hands have held brushes, pencils, pens, pushed and fixed furniture, even walls and garden fences. They mixed soil, dug into sand, acted as fins when I swam, held and caressed babies, played games with kids, and felt the energies of other people. They cooked, sawed wood, sewed clothing and household items, held bowling balls and tennis rackets. Despite all those things they did and continue doing, they love the most typing to my commands and scrolling down or turning the pages of a book to let my eyes read through the written material.

In short, with everything they have done and keep doing, my hands have built a life, my life.