Bhagavad Gita

I Do My Part

I do my part.
The rest is not mine.

I have one little seed.
I dig a small hole.
I tuck the seed in.
I give it water.
I give it warm sun.

Say it with me:
I do my part.
The rest is not mine.

Now I wait and watch.
I want it to bloom!
I want it big and red!
But I can’t pull it open.
I can’t paint it red.
I can’t make it hurry.

That part is not mine.
The growing is the seed’s own job.
My job is to take care of it.
Without my water, it could not grow.
So my part is real and good.

I do my part.
The rest is not mine.

Some days it is slow.
Some days it is small.
And that is okay.
I still gave it water.
I still gave it sun.
I was a kind helper today.

So when the sun comes up again,
I will fill my little cup,
and water my seed once more.

I do my part.
The rest is not mine.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: This is the heart of the Bhagavad Gita, an old poem from India, and what it calls karma yoga: do your work with your whole heart, then let go of how it turns out. The child’s job in this story is the doing (the watering), not the result (the bloom), so praise the watering, not the flower, and a slow or small bloom never lands as failure. Keep the agency honest both ways: the seed truly needs the water (your child is not powerless), but the blooming can’t be forced (your child isn’t to blame when it’s slow). The fuller poem goes much further, into who we really are beneath the body and into leaning on something larger than ourselves, but those are heavier ideas for an older year.

Pull In, Little Turtle

I see a red ball.
It is Sam’s ball.
I look at it.
I look and look.

The more I look,
the more I want it.
My hands want to grab.
My face gets hot.
Now I feel mad at Sam!

But I know a trick.
A turtle taught me.

When a turtle gets a poke,
it pulls in its head.
It pulls in its feet.
It sits safe in its shell.

Say it with me:
Pull in, little turtle.
Breathe, and come back out.

So I pull my eyes away.
I put my hands in my lap.
I breathe in, slow.
I breathe out, slow.

The want is still there.
That is okay.
Wanting is not bad.
But now it is smaller.
Now I can think.

Pull in, little turtle.
Breathe, and come back out.

I come out of my shell.
I walk over to Sam.
I ask Sam for a turn.
And I wait for my turn.

Pull in, little turtle.
Breathe, and come back out.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: This comes from the poem’s picture of the steady person, who draws the senses back “As the wise tortoise draws its four feet safe” under its shell, and from its warning that brooding on a thing grows into wanting, and wanting into anger. The turtle comes back out on purpose: the ideal is not a child who never wants anything, but one who can meet the ball, the cookie or the friend “Not loving and not hating” too hard, and then choose what to do. If the want stays big, that is fine; the move is the pause, not making the feeling disappear.

Bring It Back

My mind is like a puppy.
It runs this way.
It runs that way.

I try to hear my story.
But my mind runs to the window.
A bird! A truck! A cloud!

It ran away.
I bring it back.

I do not yell at my puppy.
Puppies run.
That is what puppies do.
I just say, come back, little one.
And I bring it back to my story.

Say it with me:
It ran away.
I bring it back.

Then it runs off again!
To lunch. To my toy. To my friend.
So I bring it back again.
And again, and again.

Each time I bring it back,
I get a little better at it.
That is how a puppy learns.
That is how my mind learns too.

It ran away.
I bring it back.

Let’s try it now.
Look at one thing in this room.
Just one thing.
When your mind runs off,
bring it back to that one thing.

It ran away.
I bring it back.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: In the poem, the warrior Arjuna complains that the mind is as hard to hold as the wind. His teacher agrees that it is restless and strong, and says it is trained by habit and self-command: each time it breaks away, bring it back. The puppy stands in for the wind, and the mechanism is the same: wandering is normal, and the training is the returning, not the never leaving. Keep the tries short, and praise the coming back, never scold the running off.