I used to fool around a bit with palmistry - the study of the lines and shape of hands, which can supposedly map ones past, foretell the future or bespeak of personality and character traits. No, no… I am now quite convinced our hands are mainly products of our genes; fingers like our mothers,’ palms shaped like our fathers’- the lines indicating more about occupation than foretelling the future. But one concept gleaned from the study of palmistry yet intrigues me. It is the premise that one hand represents “what you were born with” and the other represents “what you have made of it.”
In palmistry, if you are right handed, your left hand shows the raw materials: talents, intelligence, disposition, and character that constitute one’s potential. The lines of head, heart and fate and even the length of fingers on this your passive hand may differ significantly from those of your dominant hand (what you have become; what you have made of your potential). It’s the reverse if you are left handed. You’re looking at your hands now, aren’t you? …looking to see if they are different; if you’ve made something of yourself… It gives new meaning to adages such as: …on the other hand… or … the right hand doesn’t know what the left hand is up to…
After graduate school I accepted a position as associate director for a very successful arts council in New York State. My program director “warned” me that the executive director there was rather, well… notorious. “Phillip,” the son of Greek immigrants, was a rogue: a tough and aggressive debater and a hard-bargaining male in a field populated mostly by women. He was said to be a rather crude individual, who would scratch his balls in front of female colleagues or members of his board - either unconsciously or to intimidate. Among the professional arts network there were jokes about Phillip having created his own little fiefdom (a tiny autocratic organization) in which he ruled firmly. I thought I was being hired to soften things a bit and to act as a peacemaker between Phillip and the membership. I was prepared for a real hard-ass misogynist type who would suffer no argument or difference of opinion.
What I found was a man with a gruff exterior and a disarming ease and informality that belied extreme intelligence. He was big and boisterous, first to laugh loudly, quick to voice opinions, and so persuasive he would bowl you over – and he was always way ahead of everyone else. I’ve not in all the years since met anyone as sharp or as fearless or as politically cunning as Phillip. He said what he wanted from me were honest opinions without mincing words. This confused me somewhat and I began to wonder why he thought he needed someone like me.
About three weeks into my tenure I found out. We were returning one evening from a grants seminar held for our member orgs: some 30 groups which ranged from chorale societies to galleries to chambers of commerce. As the newbie, I was supposed to decide which groups to “zero fund” for not having lived up to previous obligations. But each time I voted zero, Phillip would contradict me, defending the culprit and overruling my decisions. He wouldn’t say no to any of them, even the most grievous offender: a mime troupe with an unscrupulous leader.
Phillip was driving and I was fuming, - asking him why even have me along if I was to be made useless and why was he giving in to these people who so clearly did not deserve to be funded. “Why”, I asked him, “are you being so soft, so charitable, such a damn pushover for BS when it’s completely unwarranted. I don’t understand.”
He was very quiet. It was dark in the car, but in the oncoming headlights I saw the glint of tears. He said “I go overboard to be compassionate, because I am afraid that if I don’t, I will be ruthless.”
He wiped his eyes and said to me: “I never told you how I got this job, did I? I was driving across New York headed for Law school. As I neared my destination, I began to sweat, and somehow when my exit came up, I just kept driving. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but I knew it was not studying law. I pulled off the road near Lake Erie and read a local newspaper. I saw an ad for an arts council director and I talked my way into the job. I had spent years thinking I would be an attorney – everyone said I’d be great at it, and I know I'd have been successful. But I was afraid if I were surrounded by power hungry or unscrupulous people, that my less admirable traits would out; that I would become one of them.”
I’m not sure what the lesson is here, but Phillip took the gifts he had been born with and chose his own path. I wonder if his hands were different or alike? Did he live up to his potential or did he rise above it? Are we are persons of free will? Are our choices made according to conscience or compulsion?
I told Phillip I thought he had nothing to worry about. He’d have made as fine and humane a lawyer as he was an arts administrator. We became great friends.
An intelligence that is not humane is the most dangerous thing in the world. - Ashley Montagu
Copy & paste to friend: (Click inside box; Ctrl + C to copy; Ctrl + V to paste)
|
|
read more blogs!
Blogs by redtigr:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| ... there is no other hand... |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
jentoblues101
|
Jan 18 @ 10:25PM
|
|
Wow!
This is my favorite kind of blog; a well-told story with a message that makes me think.
Thanks Patrice!
|
|
sciurusniger
|
Jan 18 @ 10:26PM
|
|
Every relationship comes bearing both lessons and gifts.
Thank you for sharing this story of one of yours with us. Much, refreshingly much food for thought.
And yes, I will, again, be pondering the differences between my own hands as I get ready for bed tonight! 
|
|
callmemax
|
Jan 18 @ 11:42PM
|
|
knew a guy once, who never showed his emotions. said he'd been hurt too many times. sounds like phillip was good at keeping his at bay, but only physically. mentally he was a wimp. or not... looked at my "idler" hand--- it's a lot fatter, with fatter fingers even, than the working hand. go figure.
|
|
ol_hillbilly
|
Jan 19 @ 1:31AM
|
|
Great story!
But what if yer an amidextrous? (sp) I dont know if I'm comming, going, or already been there. 
|
|
RedHotCajunSpice
|
Jan 19 @ 1:41AM
|
|
|
Thanks for sharing. Just goes to show that outward appearances may not do justice to what is inside a person. Your friend sounds like an outstanding and caring individual.
|
|
unionman154
|
Jan 19 @ 2:44AM
|
|
Great story. I really enjoyed reading it. I have huge hands that were made for holding a pipewrench. I was born a lean mean pipefitting machine. lol hugs paul 
|
|
Eyes_Wide_Shut
|
Jan 19 @ 9:06PM
|
|
What an interesting and well told story, ~P~.
...and whose is the voice that tells us to keep driving, when that exit appears ....
peace
|
|
PullMyFinger
|
Jan 19 @ 10:14PM
|
|
Ya know Patrice...I read a lot of blogs, unfortunately most of them are trash, including mine. It worries me that those responsible for writing these clumps of dogshit disguised as words of wisdom are actually unsupervised in daily life. They walk amongst us. It frightens the fk out of me...BUT, then along comes you and those like you. They know who they are, I haven't kept that a secret. Thank you....An interesting read.
|
|
|