by Claudia Alick

Since 2001, I have lived and worked by a guiding practice I call The Open Palm Philosophy — a framework for art-making, community building, and justice work rooted in generosity and exchange. I first developed and shared this philosophy with my company Smokin Word Productions, a hip-hop and spoken word production collective in New York in the early 2000s. None of us could afford to rent performance spaces alone, but when we centered generosity and giving in our production model, we experienced exponential growth in our careers, collaborations, and opportunities. What began as an act of survival became a model for collective abundance.

The philosophy starts with the story of the greedy monkey — or sometimes, the raccoon. The animal finds food inside a hollow log, grabs it, and becomes trapped because it refuses to let go. The lesson is simple: when we cling too tightly to what we want, we imprison ourselves. When our grasp relaxes, we are free again.

An open palm represents freedom, trust, and movement. When my palm is open, people can take what’s in my hand and can also place something new there. It is not about charity — it is about circulation. To live with an open palm is to live in right relationship with community and abundance. I do not fear giving because I trust that what I offer flows back through the ecosystem. I know that when I let go, I create space for the next thing to arrive.

In 2012, I presented this philosophy to the Oregon Arts Commission from the perspective of producing at a multimillion-dollar venue. I spoke about centering “free programming” — artistic events open to the public that grew audiences, generated social good, raised millions to support people living with AIDS, and expanded our community’s collective cultural wealth. The Open Palm Philosophy guided me toward understanding generosity not as a cost, but as an engine for growth, transformation, and sustainability.

In 2020, my colleague and friend Dr. Ayodele Nzinga, the Poet Laureate of Oakland, asked me a question that deepened this philosophy:

“How do you protect what’s in your palm for those who are slow to approach — for those who can’t reach your hand before someone greedy takes what you’ve offered?”

That wisdom taught me discernment. The open palm is not naïve; it learns to shape the flow of generosity. I developed what I call discerning fingers — a way to guide my offerings intentionally toward those who need them most. Protection and generosity coexist. The hand remains open, but it is wise about direction, timing, and care.

The deepest understanding of this philosophy came to me during a liberation meditation in 2025. I realized that the open palm allows the most powerful thing to rest within it: another person’s open palm. When two open palms meet, we exchange energy, information, and power. Imagine a circle of people, each sitting with their palms resting on their knees — ready to give, ready to receive. When they clasp hands, they create a living network of generosity. They can receive from any direction and pass things to one another. This is power. This is community. This is the Open Palm Philosophy.

Today, I see this practice alive in all my Disability Justice–fueled programming. It informs how I build access, how I distribute resources, and how I sustain the ecosystems of Calling Up Justice. It’s not about hoarding wealth, attention, or credit — it’s about nurturing flow.

To live with an open palm is to believe in enough — enough love, enough opportunity, enough art, enough justice to go around. It is an invitation to build systems based on trust and circulation instead of fear and scarcity. It is a daily practice of liberation.