Dhammapada

I Don’t Throw It Back

Sometimes someone says a mean thing to you.
It feels like a ball thrown hard at you.
Your hands want to grab it.
Your hands want to throw it back.

You throw the mean ball back.
They throw it at you again.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
The mean game keeps going.

But here is a quiet secret.

I don’t have to throw it back.

I can let the mean ball drop.
I can take one big breath.
I can turn and walk away.

It is okay to feel mad inside.
Mad is allowed. Mad is not bad.
I just don’t have to throw it back.

I can go find a grown-up who is kind.
That is a strong thing to do.
Not a weak thing. A strong thing.

I don’t throw it back.
So I add no more mean.

Say it with me:

I don’t have to throw it back.

So I breathe.
I let it drop.
And I go find someone kind.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: This little idea comes from the Dhammapada, an old collection of sayings handed down as the Buddha’s. Its most famous line (v5) is that hatred is never ended by more hatred, only by not adding to it. For a small child, “I don’t have to throw it back” is enough on its own. One thing to hold for them: this is about the only part they control, their own response, and it is not a promise that an unkind child will stop. If someone keeps hurting them, the strong move is still to get away and tell you. Letting a mean word drop is never the same as having to put up with being hurt.

My Shadow Comes Too

Go outside on a sunny day.
Look down at the ground.
There is your shadow!

You walk, it walks.
You hop, it hops.
It comes everywhere you go.

The way you feel inside comes too.
It follows you, just like your shadow.

Say it with me:

My inside comes along with me.

One morning you wake up grumpy.
You stomp to the art table.
You grab the red crayon.
You shout, “Mine!”
Now your friend is grumpy too.

Grumpy came along with you.

My inside comes along with me.

Another morning, you wake up grumpy again.
This time you stop.
You take one big, slow breath.
Your hands get soft.
You ask, “Can we both use it?”
Your friend smiles.

Calm came along with you.

Grumpy is okay to feel.
Everybody feels grumpy sometimes.
You are not bad for feeling it.

And some things just happen.
Rain still comes.
Knees get scraped.
That is not because of your inside.

But before I stomp, I can stop.
I can breathe first.

My inside comes along with me.

So I breathe.
And I pick soft hands.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: This comes from the two verses that open the Dhammapada. Act from a troubled mind and trouble follows, like the cart wheel behind the ox. Act from a clear mind and happiness follows, like a shadow that never leaves. The primer keeps the everyday half a child can see: the mood we act from shapes what we do, and what we do shapes what comes back. It is not a promise that calm thoughts keep bad things away, and it is never a reason to blame a child, or anyone, for something that happened to them. The book ties this idea to karma and rebirth across lifetimes, which is left out here.

Drip, Drop

Put a cup under the tap.
Turn it on just a tiny bit.
Drip, drop, drip, drop.

One drop is so small.
You can hardly see it.
But wait a while.
The cup gets full!

Drip, drop, little by little.

Kind things are like drops.
Sharing one crayon is a drop.
Saying sorry is a drop.
Helping pick up blocks is a drop.

One kind thing feels so small.
But you do another, and another.
Little by little, you fill up with kindness.

Say it with me:

Drip, drop, little by little.

Mean things are drops too.
A grab, a push, a mean word.
They go in the cup too.
So small things always count.

A mean drop might fall in.
That doesn’t make you a bad cup.
You can say sorry.
You can add a kind drop next.

The drops are not for prizes.
The full cup is just you, being kind.
It takes a long, long time.
That is okay.

Drip, drop, little by little.

Today I add one drop.
One small, kind drop.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: This comes from a pair of Dhammapada verses (vv121-122): don’t think lightly of a small good deed, or of a small bad one, because a water pot fills drop by drop, and a person fills up the same way. The primer keeps the part a child can use: small kind acts count, small unkind ones count too, and one unkind act doesn’t make a child bad (a later verse, v173, says good deeds can cover the wrong one has done). In the book the idea belongs to karma, where deeds bear fruit in this life and in lives to come. That framework is left out here, and the drops are not a points system for rewards.