The August Break 2011: Pic 11

The is one of the items going into my shop soon.

At least, that's what I always say! ;)

Actually, Nate came up with a solution:

He suggested I do not buy any more vintage until 

I can list the last items I bought.

He's such a sweetheart. Rather than get upset 

because I buy, ok, kinda a lot, 

all he asks is that I list what I've gotten. 

That's when I'm most excited about the item anyway,

so it works out well.

I don't know what it was about these wooden praying hands

that made me adore them so.

Event though I'm not a religous person per se,

I find these so beautiful.

Prayer is a natural inclination in all of us...

a way to hope and dream.

No matter what someone's religious background is or isn't,

our hearts turn to a higher power

in the same way.

By being open. Humble. Truthful. Hopeful.

I think these would be so cute to decorate 

a quirky, playful type of interior. 

For me, they have a  very happy/zen/buddhist 

sort of quality.

The following poem, by Mary Oliver,

remains one of my favorites. 

It says something to me

the way these hands posed in prayer do...if that makes any sense.

An incantatinon to live with magic, soul, and revelry.

Where Does the Temple Begin, Where Does It End?

There are things you can’t reach.  But

you can reach out to them, and all day long.

The wind, the bird flying away.  The idea of God.

And it can keep you as busy as anything else, and happier.

The snake slides away; the fish jumps, like a little lily,

out of the water and back in; the goldfinches sing

from the unreachable top of the tree.

I look; morning to night I am never done with looking.

Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing around

as though with your arms open.

And thinking: maybe something will come, some

shining coil of wind,

or a few leaves from any old tree – 

they are all in this too.

And now I will tell you the truth.

Everything in the world

comes.

At least, closer.

And, cordially.

Like the nibbling, tinsel-eyed fish; the unlooping snake.

Like goldfinches, little dolls of gold

fluttering around the corner of the sky

of God, the blue air.

~ Mary Oliver