In working with opening and closing one hand, I remembered Yehuda Amichai's wonderful book, Open, Closed, Open. On our break, I went down to the used book store sponsored by Friends of the Library, and there was a copy, supposedly used, but actually brand new. Had someone actually resisted opening a book with a title like that? I already own a copy but bought this book to share with the group.
I give you a taste.
Here is section 4 from the poem "I Wasn't One of the Six Million: And What Is My Life Span? Open Closed Open".
4
Open closed open. Before we are born, everything is open
in the universe without us. For as long as we live, everything is closed
within us. And when we die, everything is open again.
Open closed open. That's all we see.
In the poem "The Language of Love and Tea with Roasted Almonds", Amichai writes:
Even death will not part us, it will bind us
somewhere in the universe
in a new encounter that has no end.
And in "My Son Was Drafted", he gives his son advice:
When you go out for a night patrol, fill your canteen to the top
so the water won't make a sloshing sound and give you away.
That's how your soul ought to be in your body, large and full and silent.
He continues with:
(When you make love, make all the noise you want.)
