Today I want to bring my attention to my wrists which like my toes have not received the accolades they deserve. They had an important role in my childhood and youth when I played baseball, helping me swing the bat properly and catch a ball with the right turn of the glove. I think of how important wrists are for most sports: golf, tennis, ping pong, darts, bowling, even the one-on-one battle of arm wrestling.
The list of gifts from my wrists goes on. For a lifetime, they have helped me hold books and turn thousands of pages. They are part of raising a glass to toast friends, holding hands, hugging someone, and swinging on a rope before plunging into the cool water of a pond.
I marvel at the wondrous ways wrists are used by dancers, especially those from Eastern countries like India and Bali. I enjoy watching Olympic athletes turning and twisting various props, executing complex lifts and tumbles -- all thanks to their wrists. When I watch them, I am grateful that I have not been slowed down by carpal tunnel syndrome which often afflicts people like me who spend a lot of time working on a keyboard. My wrists are still flexible and fine.
Since I have always possessed an uncanny sense of what time it is, I never have had much use for a watch to wear around my wrist. But I do wear wrist malas (prayer beads); I feel they connect me to my spiritual path and I feel they send healing energy to me through my wrists.
I've been thinking that I need a way to express my gratitude to these body parts. Then I remembered how much I like a Sufi hospitality ritual: they spray rosewater on the wrists of guests, and when they leave, the fragrance and the love linger on the flesh.