The practice of compassion.

What do you think about when someone says to practice compassion?

Do you think about helping someone.  Lending a hand.  Tending to the suffering, feeding the hungry.  Do you think about a mother caring for her child.  A father picking up their child from an accident.

We tend to think of the practice of compassion as an act.

But what if the practice of compassion was to be open, available and responsive?  What if the act of compassion was to remain open, available and responsive?

The practice isn't about doing, it is about being.

Being open, available and responsive- you could help someone, lend a hand, tend to their suffering, feed them when they are hungry.

You could also simply maintain that space for them.  Be there, with them, not doing anything.  And not needing to.

The way of the bodhisattva.

Alert.
Attentive.
Calm and composed.
Generous.
Insightful.
Responsive.
Patient.
Undaunted, persisting amidst fatigue.
Empathetic and compassionate, they think about the needs of others and strive diligently to bring them happiness and joy.  

Free from the attachment of holding some close and others distant, they wholeheartedly wish to establish all beings in health, happiness and well being.

They are like a father and mother for the world. 

Right tool for the job.

I come from a family of craftsmen, men and women who took pride in the skills of their trade and the quality of their work.

Tools are important to the craftsman.  They allow him to do the job right, the first time.  I was always somewhat resistant to the 'right tool for the job' motto.  I would use what was available, what was within reach and figure out how to make it work.  Don't have a hammer, use a Crescent wrench.  Don't have a saw, give me a screwdriver (yes, a screwdriver).  It might take you longer, but you can make it work.

If my father would catch me in these inane acts he would say, "What are you doing?  Get the right tool for the job."

"But, I didn't have a hammer."

"Go get one!"

When I moved to Seattle, my father's going away gift was his old red toolbox, complete with JERRY lettered in blue paint across the top.  The intention was simple- you should be able to fix your own problems.  Use the right tool for the job, and do it right the first time.

I see a lot of people meditating these days, but if you ask them what kind of meditation they are doing they often don't really know.

Meditation is a tool.  What are you using it for?

Do you want to achieve a stable, focused mind?  Are you looking to develop insight and clarity?  Are you simply looking for a respite, a short escape from the turmoil of your daily rigors?  Do you simply want a blissful experience with lots of cool feelings and visions?  

Do you want to develop generosity, love and kindness?  Does your practice embrace a larger scope?  Do you want to actualize your own aims?  The aims of others?  Do you want to achieve the complete and utter awakening of buddhahood?   

There are many different types of meditation.  Each is a tool in your toolbox.  Use the right tool for the job, and do it right the first time.

Maybe my father's message is finally starting to break through. 

The fact that you are going to work hard is irrelevant.

You are used to this for that, an equal exchange.  A profitable exchange.

Why else do you go to work each day?

Your used to working for you, your family, your loved ones and your dreams.  I get that, it is the world that we live in.  Is that any alternative?

The alternative is to be a father, a mother.

A father is unrelenting, tireless.  He cares not for his feelings.  Take me.  Every time.  Take me.
A mother is always open, accepting, loving.  No fault matters, I love you.  Always.

The alternative is that all of this- this life, this journey, this work-
is bigger than you.

Be a parent, a guardian, a grand father or mother, a friend, a son or a daughter.  Not only in your own family, but for all beings.

Both parties profit.