Not a super flexy slender Yoga chick talks "the Power of Hands”

(Spoiler: They're not just for texting or holding your matcha mug.)

Some time ago I wrote about “the Power of Feet,” so it only feels right to climb the body ladder and talk about their equally fascinating relatives: the hands. These five little co-workers tap, type, scroll, wave, knead, stir, and for those who live life fully, still give a triumphant clap when the plane touches down. (I know someone who does this every time, purely to see who else will join. The suspense is half the fun. And it's actually her birthday tomorrow, but surely this aspect of hers won't change.

Many, many years ago, before the daily circus of swiping and texting, hands had a much older role. They were the first tools, the ones that pulled tubers from the soil, tested fruit for ripeness, crafted baskets, tended fire, and offered care. In some parts of the world, they still do exactly that.

In Yoga, hands are considered sacred instruments. They channel prayer, carry intention, meet the ground, reach for the sky, and sometimes remind you that, no, your hamstrings are not quite ready for that forward fold.

Which brings us to Mudras.

The word mudra in Sanskrit means “seal” or “gesture.” In practice, it is a deliberate positioning of the hands (and sometimes the eyes or the body) that shifts energy within you. Imagine it as a subtle broadcast signal, arrange the fingers in a certain way and your nervous system gets the memo, “Ah yes, calm mode is now online.”

Think of Anjali Mudra, palms pressed together at the heart. You have probably done it dozens of times, maybe during a chant or while silently hoping your stomach does not growl in class. More than a Yoga greeting, it symbolizes union: left and right, inner and outer, giving and receiving. It softly says, “I honor the light in you,” even if what you actually feel is, “Please step back from my mat, Todd.”

Our hands are emotional storytellers, even if you are not Italian. They twist when we are nervous, clench when we are furious, rub together when we are uncertain. Often, they reveal our inner weather long before words arrive. Yoga pays attention to that. Through touch, stillness, or pressure, the hands can help the nervous system rewrite its patterns.

Try this: place one hand on your heart while lying in Savasana. It feels simple, but it is a signal to your vagus nerve, the body’s quiet switchboard for rest and relaxation. That nerve runs from your brainstem to your gut and whispers, “You are safe, no lions today.” Now add the other hand to your belly and follow your breath. You have just drawn a circle of connection, safety, and presence. Nothing complicated, just hands doing what they have always done best.

Hands also carry memory. Picture your ancestor’s hands kneading dough, braiding hair, planting seeds. That memory is not gone. Each time you extend a hand in care, offer support, or fold into child’s pose, you continue that story.

Which matters, especially now. We live in a world where hands are constantly busy but rarely conscious. They are busy tapping, typing, pinching, and scrolling, yet how often do they really feel? The ground pressing back in downward dog, the spark of Gyan Mudra, the warmth of your own skin.

A little practice: next time you settle onto your mat, pause. Sit quietly with your hands resting on your lap, palms open. Notice their weight, their heat, their quiet presence. Or clap really hard and feel the tingling, though I would not suggest doing that in a Yoga class 😏😉