Nothing says Buddhism like raising a child. To cherish what has already changed as you look upon it. To hold most tightly what you must most let go.How wonderful! I can’t wait for the day I experience it myself. But in the meantime, I note that parenting is practice (“practice” in the Buddhist sense), because everything is practice: waking up is practice, cooking an egg is practice, your morning commute is practice, taking out the trash is practice, sitting is practice, walking is practice, breathing is practice. I had to go to Kaiser this morning to have blood drawn: practice.
Everything you experience, every action you undertake can be a gentle reminder of the Middle Way. Babies have the Buddha’s eyes, yes, and someday I may be lucky enough to have, for a brief moment in time, as my dear friends Matt and Joann do right now, a brand-new seven or eight pound dharma teacher of my own. But in the meantime, the stranger on the street who asked me for directions this morning put me in mind of the power of compassion and good will, the not-quite-silent music of my workplace environment (the droning of power supply fans, the percussion of nearby keyboards and mouse buttons) is a reminder of the strength that lies in stillness, and Zeldman’s post reveals that the dharma flows in everything-that-is.