Gently Go About Your Tasks

May you always listen, always hear, always speak with the power of the spirit.

--Ábdu'l-Bahá

On Saturday morning, Joey knelt on the couch, nose pressed against the window.

"Mom, when Grampa comin?"

"Soon, Sweetheart."

Finally, the battered brown Dodge rolled into the driveway.

"Mom, Grampa here!" Joey raced outside and flung himself into the old man's arms.

"Are we gonna have a aventure today?"

"Sure, Joey. How about a safari?"

They walked, hand in hand, to the park, continually on the look-out for creatures and beasts.

Joey stalked squirrels, climbed the jungle gym, played with some "big boys" and swung "as high as a mountain. Right, Grampa?"

After they watched a colony of ants hard at work, Grandfather said quietly, "Time to go, Joe."

Joey started to complain then looked up at Grandfather's face and thought better of it.

Hand in hand, they started homeward across he grassy expanse. Suddenly Joey spotted something moving in the grass.

"Look, Grampa!" They knelt down and saw a baby bird, wobbling in the grass. Joey reached out for it.

"No!" said Grandfather, firmly.

"Why, Grampa? I jus' wanna touch it."

"It's sick, Joey, and it could be easily hurt. We need to be kind to it."

A tear slid down the boy's face. "I won't hurt it."

"Can you be very, very gentle?"

Joey nodded vigorously. "I be gentle." He reached out one pudgy finger and slowly, softly stroked the little feathered back. His eyes shone.

Once they reached the house, Joey barrelled through the door and threw his arms around his mother's knees.

"How was your adventure, Sweetheart?"

"Mom, I was gentle!"

-Linda Kavelin Popov, Sacred Moments - Daily Meditations on the Virtues ©1996



Do not speak harshly to anybody; those who are spoken to will answer thee in the same way. Angry speech breeds trouble, thou wilt receive blows for blows.

--The Dhammapada

One of the most exciting and wondrous things a Grampa gets to do is to take the hand of his young grandchild and discover, all over again, the wonders of the Earth as seen through the eyes of a child. Last April, I visited with my oldest daughter who lives in the sage country of southern Utah. She and I had finally settled our differences and re-established our relationship as father and daughter, after nearly 20 years of being estranged. It was a warm and loving reunion, and I was given my first opportunity to see four of my grandchildren. They immediately took to the grandfather they had only heard about, but never met. It was love at first sight for all of us.

We walked around their place out in the country, and I introduced them to flowers, animal tracks and burrows, bugs and all sorts of living things they lived in the midst of. We talked about how things used to be when the indians were the only people who lived there, how the indians cared for the land as if God had given it to them for special keeping, and we hunted for arrowheads. They had lived there their entire life, and had taken their environment for granted. Now, they looked at all those things differently, and I offered up a silent prayer that they would continue to appreciate the meaning to be searched for in everything they saw. I was very sad to leave, and with tearful eyes I promised to return. In the family tradition, they all stood at the window and waved goodbye. It was a large window; they are a large family. It is a large life I live.

It has taken years of patience, years of growing and maturing, and even years of not speaking to each other in order for my adult children and I to begin to heal our relationships. My oldest daughter and her brother and sisters have, on occasions past, spoken to me with words of anger. There was a time when I would have responded with an angry defense, but no longer. I found that if I responded to them with understanding and love and honesty, I would eventually have that understanding and love and honesty reflected back to me. There was a time when I would have interrupted them in the midst of what they were trying to tell me; I have learned to listen to them, and to consider what I think and feel before responding. I have learned to stand in their shoes, to try to understand what they are seeing and feeling. I have learned to step aside from anger and into empathy with them. They see a different person in me, now, and they are responding with love as I had hoped. When dealing with others, every situation in my life gives me the opportunity to listen, and to respond gently. I have that gentle yet effective power, and when I use it, it works.

Those whom the world considers great are those who go gently about their tasks. Mother Theresa, Mohandas Ghandi, Martin Luther King, to name but a few. Sometimes, one hardly knows they are there, but many whose lives have been touched by these gentle people are forever changed. Some (angels?) among us pass so gently that their quiet achievement seem to have happened of itself. Just as King or Ghandi have shown me, my achievements can be greater when my actions flow from gentleness. The cannonball-in-the-pool method of living my life is less than effective.

All which surrounds me is Love, if I would only train myself to see it. How ridiculous it is to strain against this problem or that difficulty, when the answer is to accept things as they are, and approach the matter with gentle, tender love. What activities might I do which bring gentleness to my life? Knowing the slow process by which the Deity brings about great results, I should not expect to reap as well as sow, in a single lifetime! It is inflexible fate and the noblest of destinies to work and let others reap the harvest of my labors. I must see what there is to do, and do it. The millions of occasions come, in the ordinary path of this lifetime, where I may choose to restrain my passions, subdue my heart to gentleness and patience, and resign my own interest for another's advantage, where I could speak words of kindness and wisdom, raise the fallen, cheer the sick in spirit - opportunity enough for these things and more. I must remember that my choices are written in the pages of the Universe, and in the hearts of those I meet daily. I must remember to deal with others in ways which give them choices in order to learn and grow.

Life is an adventure. I must be gentle in my interactions with others, for they can be (like me, and my dear children) a bit wobbly, and easily hurt.

Michael

email: Michael@N-Spire.com

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