Yesterday when I picked up Ezra (4) from his 3rd day of Kindergarten, he said, unhappily “Mom, you know what? I saw that big boy today at recess, the one who was mean to me at the skate park? I saw him and I smiled at him and said ‘Hi’ and he didn’t say anything to me, just looked at me with an angry face!” I said “Really, he did that? And what did you do?” He said, “I didn’t do anything. But I felt sad about it. Then I thinked about what you said, about when I am feeling mean, how it is because my heart is hurting. And I thought about that means his heart hurts too and he is not feeling good to be mean to me.” My heart swelled as I looked into his eyes, and I said “Yes, that is true, Ezra Star. That is using your compassion.” He nodded, and then said: “But I still wish he would be nicer to me.” Then he shrugged and skipped a few feet away, turning back to me and smiling: “But! Maybe he will be? Sometime. Maybe his heart will feel better.” And he dashed ahead, sprinting with strong-boy legs, every footstep pounding with raw power onto the earth, unabashedly impacting life around him.
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Writing from the inquisitive heart of this humbling, soul-stretching path of conscious human loving,