A Sense of Safety

This week officially begins the 12 week journey of a group of bloggers I recently stumbled upon through book "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron. I had bought the book at the beginning of the year when purchasing another creativity guide and read much of it only without actually DOING the work of it. Somehow I'm thinking/hoping group participation will encourage follow through and commitment.

The first week's prompt from group leader, Miss Robyn, asks the question "What object represents a sense of safety to you?" I pondered that after reading her sentimentally moving tale of stars all day long today. Everything that came to mind for most of the day was rejected as truly representative after mulling for a time due to dual associations in my mind of the necessity of reliance or looking to the pondered object to signify safety strongly implying a lack of feeling safe and secure. Finally I hit upon lighthouses with their flashing beam signalling to boaters a clear path through the tides to safe harbor. Those structures housing beacons of light to steer by are a symbol that speaks of safety, but not being a sailor or navigator nor living somewhere coastal it seemed to lack authenticity to claim as my symbol of safety...so I thought some more.

Following Robyn's lead I went back further and further in my life experience to find something that has always said 'safe' to me and finally found in my oldest memories from early childhood, hands. When I was just in kindergarten we walked to and from school everyday (yes, I'm that old) and our school had a 'Safe Hands' program that prominently displayed an upraised hand poster in windows and on doors of homes along the walkers' route signifying to any child passing a place to run to where someone would always be home for help if they were being bullied or feared an approaching stranger or even if one felt lost or sick. I never had to make use of the shelter offered but it was a comfort to know it was available.

I remember feeling safe holding my parents' hands walking through big, crowded stores as a child. And holding my own kids' hands when crossing streets and walking through the BIG CITY in Chicago. The implication of protection of a date's hand at the small of my back entering a theater or restaurant. The anchor of a hand held negotiating slippery wet rocks through a stream while hiking.

When I first met my Dearest Darlin' he held my hand, clutched it actually, as if I were a helium balloon that might float away should he let go. He still holds my hand while driving, on the couch when we watch TV and I trust in my/our safety when I watch his hands on the steering wheel as we travel mountain roads.

When something's done by hand it's understood to be done with greater care and attention, safer - hand washed clothing, a hand washed car, hand painted, hand stamped at the post office. To leave something in someone else's hands is to bestow the greatest of trust and confidence.

I can't think of a thing that more aptly represents a sense of safety to me.