Please Hold My Hand

My grandmother, great grandmother (now passed), myself at about one year, and my mother.


"Soccer dad Bob with young Richael at match with "Aces" or "Phoenix."

"That which is appearing is complete." - Read by Roshi Pat Enkyo O'Hara.

I was given these pictures over the last two months. I hardly recognize myself at one or eight years old. (Squinting at both photos.)

I have sharpened some of my views about perfection and continuation this week, beautifully summed up by a quote shared by Roshi Pat Enkyo O'Hara, a Zen Buddhist teacher-activist in New York City. In a Tricycle Magazine Podcast she conveyed this quote written by a Japanese monk (whose name was unable to remember but will be sure to retrieve and post).

This axiom manifests a wise teaching that "things are as they are" and instructs us to accept them as so. Acceptance is not a mere observance--it is a careful recognition. Perhaps, a way to finding momentary peace. But I did not understand this lesson from Roshi O'Hara's recorded dharma talk. Instead, this quote struck me after a week full of little people :)

My dear friend, Catherine Chu, had invited me into her first-grade, Northeast classroom in November. She is very proud of her kids and she wanted a chance for me (and her other friends) to meet them. We were able to schedule a date last Friday. My bill: Ms. Faithful, our guest, is a community organizer like Barack Obama! (And she's in law school now.) We planned to discuss things we can do when we grew up. Undoubtedly a topic as useful to me as it was for her first-graders.

Getting there was a new experience. I have not ventured much of the city outside Northwest on the bus. The trip lasted over an hour and a half, first traveling south to Chinatown, then east past Union Station. Both rides were uncomfortable. to say the least. Much unlike my trips to wealthy Tenleytown each morning. I told one friend that I didn't realize so many Black people could fit on a single bus. We were on top of one another, weaving through construction, sites and but still crawling over and barely escaping enormous potholes. I practically rolled out of 26th Street. While dusting myself off I was reminded that I need more opportunities to discover D.C..

I entered Browne passing through a metal detector and signing in with the officer-on-duty. I checked-in at the main office and proceeded to Ms. Chu's First Grade Class. I thought I discreetly slipped inside the classroom but little did I know that 7 and 8 year olds notice everything. I was spotted--a dozen of wide eyes stared me down!

Ms. Chu was finishing reading time so she asked two little ones to read a chosen book to me. Both were really good. The second student who read an advanced book with larger words needed a little help. Ms. Chu came by and helped me, help him, by sounding out the words in parts. I'd never taught any person to read before. I witnessed his gradual reading of "thirteen" as a sort of miracle. Not long ago my mom disclosed to me that I was "behind" when I entered first grade in Virginia. I didn't know how to read anything. Until this day she credits Ms. Birmbaum with catching me up and teaching me how to read. If you ever read this, Ms. Birmbaum, a profound thank you for your generosity.

The morning went on with great prosperity. Our sharing took place in a group circle on the floor; I said a few words about how community organizers help people help themselves; each little person shared his or her dream job (teachers, police officers, and a lawyer/doctor); they shared with me their class motto; and then they returned to their desk for a subtraction lesson.

Shortly after I left. Ms. Chu had the class thank me for seeing them. I thanked them for having me as a guest and living up to Ms. Chu's promise that they were the smartest first graders that I knew. Those little people had SO much energy and vitality. I remembered how quick life was sixteen years ago.

I call children little people because that is their true name. They are very little (one student hugged me--he embraced my leg and reached my hip). They are very much people, not very different from me. In fact little people may be the wisest among us. They know so much which adults over time are willed to forget. Our struggle to remember. As Tara Branch aptly puts it in her book, Radical Acceptance, our own awareness and goodness are within us. Once we rediscover how knowing and compassion fuse our minds and hearts together again.

Being with Catherine's little people sparked an inner-light. Each of them was beautiful and perfect. In this way imperfection does not exist. How could I look into any of their eyes and tell them otherwise? No. They are beautiful and perfect, therefore, we are also beautiful and perfect. I could not lie to them.

After all, little people are a continuation of ourselves. I look just as small in my over-sized red shirt and shorts. Often I am physically distant from young people, which I hope will change, yet my belief persists: we have always been and always will be. When a little person held my hand to our sitting circle, physically our hands joined and spiritually we merely continued the past, present, and future.

They are young in this lifetime but they are here and complete people. We are here and complete as we are. As I told a dear friend some months ago: we are our very own Perfect.


Metta,
R.