When you have children, there are usually innumerable opportunities during the average day to practice kindness. Usually the opportunity will arise when you catch them drawing on the bed room wall or playing catch with a light-bulb or something like that. Your first instinct might be to start yelling and dispensing punishments. Really though, what’s the point? The only one who gets bent out of shape is you, and the kids just learn that they have to hide their malfeasance a little better the next time.
Lately, during a spate of what seemed to me to be naughtier than normal behavior, I’ve started to wonder whether the problem is with the boys or whether the blame can be more appropriately laid at the feet of my own ego. I’ve really wrestled with this. On the one hand, you cannot permit your kids to go all Picasso on the furniture, or practice professional wrestling moves in the living room. On the other hand, getting mad at and laying into the kids for acting like kids is kind of insane. Plus, if they know that something drives you crazy, they will often repeat it over and over, just to watch you go crazy. In that respect, raising children is not very different from formal Zen practice.
I haven’t been doing too well with the kids lately. The holidays drained me of energy, money and patience and I’ve been a bit of an asshole. The weather hadn’t helped either. Of course there’s nothing I can do about any of those external things so I should follow my own advice and lighten up. Easy for me to say!
Here’s a run-down of the project’s last few days. Gandhi I’m not, but it’s the little things:
Wed: Shared 2 tins of peanuts I received from clients with co-workers
Thurs: Gave directions to someone who looked lost without asking
Fri: Gave last towel in the gym to co-worker and used a dirty one in my locker
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