Over the years, one of the things that consistently calls me to contemplation is the relationship of movement, energy, presence and well-being. As more and more “studies” trumpet the importance of movement ( it seems any movement is better than no movement) I find myself pondering the apparent contradiction between spiritual disciplines that advocate stillness as a path, and the nature of movement as an avenue toward self-realization.

In music, the relationship between sound and silence are obvious. The same is true of dance- the pause, the moment of stillness is as potent as the movement before it, and in fact empowers the movement. The human cycle is one of movement and rest. Spiritual disciplines imply that movement takes me away from presence while stillness allows contemplation. Yet even Jesus danced, according to the Scriptures. Every spiritual tradition has a connection to movement – whether it’s simply a processional, rocking while davening, or the complex dances of G.I. Gurdjieff.

Something that unites both ideas is a gesture that transcends culture and whose origin is unknown, though there are many theories. To bring right and left hand together – whether to invoke heaven or to salute the divine in another is a neurological link between right and left brain. The palm of the hand contains huge amounts of sensory information. And our hand gestures reflect our thoughts. One could say this gesture is a way of putting our thoughts together and then sending them upward.

In The Silk Roads, author Peter Frankopan traces the migration of mudras from India to the West, where they ended up in portraits of Jesus. Which came first – Namaste, or Let Us Pray? Is there a science behind these sacred choices?  It is even theorized that prayer hands to the breastbone creates a reflex action of the vagus nerve, Is that true, or just folks jumping on the vagal bandwagon? Still, it seems that bringing our hands together invites a question about presence, prayer and movement. Try it yourself – here’s a mini-version from my book, What Are You Afraid Of?

Photo by Chris Liverani on Unsplash