Perhaps my hands can meditate today, because my mind is twisted around my old cat that has disappeared.  My hands will rest one inside the other like a small bowl to hold the peace of here and now.  They will operate a horrendous vacuum cleaner as I volunteer my time for those who serve the children.  They will hold the steering wheel in service as I drive here and there, now and then for tasks that can be done.

I will wak down my street talking to neighbors, and my hands will be by my side tingling with the intrinsic awareness that all is indeed well.  Whether hidden in a neighbor’s house cozy and fed or curled up in a pile of autumn leaves sleeping into eternity, my cat is indeed well.  And my hands reach up to touch my Best Friend wrapping her arms around my shoulders, whispering the sweet nothings of eternal life in my ear.