Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Living Earth in my Palm (Lesson on Imagery in Literature)

 Dr Abe V Rotor
Living with Nature School on Blog 

                                                                                 Guimaras in my palm

To see the world in a grain of sand,
      And a heaven in a wild flower;
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand ,
      And eternity in an hour.

                            - William Blake (Auguries of Innocence)

I have just finished a manuscript, a sequel to Living with Nature series.  I have chosen for its title, Living Earth in my Palm, because the palm is the seat of human thought, emotion, and spirituality. It is the seat of truth when we take an oath, seat of execution after a decision. In this particular case, it is in the palm where an idea comes as a snap, where creativity is born and nurtured.  Where dreams can be realized, we are known, and finally, we are received by God.  

One can surmise the depth of Rodin’s Thinker in the palm of a clenched fist, more than his pensive mood. I can imagine Helen Keller, born blind, cup the face of a person to express love, or to photograph the person in her mind. We gauge cleanliness by the palm; we appraise the value of articles, examining their details and hidden secrets.

What could be a higher level of expression of respect to the flag than a palm placed on the breast, and an open palm to pledge loyalty?   And is there a deeper sense of contrition than cupping both hands and drawing them close to a bowed head? The faithful raise their hands with open palms in praise and exultation, building a spiritual bridge that unites humanity and God, the world and the Creator.   

And among the grassroots, the farmer gathers a handful of grain in the field, examines it to know if it is ready for harvest - and not so much for its bounty, expresses thanksgiving to Mother Earth. It is also in the palm of the Man with a Hoe, made rough by hard work, that the soil is known of its readiness and suitability to a crop he is going to plant.  The young Lincoln would brush dirt and wipe his palm as if to release some burdens of the day’s work, while looking far into the railroad he was building.

We extend our arms of welcome and reconciliation with open palms. Genuine handshake is felt by the palm. Cold and sweaty palm is a barometer of our emotion.  The warmth of our palm has a deep source in the core of our being. It is a thermometer of our anger or calmness.  And to believers, the map of our lives and fate.

On my palm is a living earth, the microcosm of nature and culture. It is in the palm that we ponder over Rodin’s sculpture, feel Helen Keller’s love and kindness, hear a schoolchild sing before the flag, the faithful whisper a prayer, feel the soil, know the grain when it has turned golden.  Of the young worker brush dirt and look into the horizon.  It is in the palm that we can hold the world, live a life of eternity, find heaven in simple beauty, and infinity in our short sojourn on this earth. ~                  

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