If you have children in your life that you would like to introduce to Buddhist concepts, Buddhist children’s books are a great place to start. Nowadays, there are more and more of them that either directly or indirectly disseminate the Buddha’s teachings, from mindfulness and lovingkindness to impermanence. Here are eight such books appropriate for a variety of reading levels, from early education through middle school. 

Goodnight Love: A Bedtime Meditation Story 
Written by Sumi Loundon Kim, with illustrations by Laura Watkins. Bala Kids, an imprint of Shambhala Publications, February 2023, 32 pp., $17.95, cloth. For ages 2–5.

This all-encompassing bedtime meditation follows two sloths as they ground themselves in a reflection of our capacity to love deeply. Their practice begins by focusing inward with self-compassion before offering compassion toward the animals, natural landscapes, and the universe beyond. By the end of the book, both parents and children will be left feeling safe, happy, loved, and ready to sleep.  

It’s OK: Being Kind to Yourself When Things Feel Hard
Written by Wendy O’Leary, with illustrations by Sandra Eide. Bala Kids, an imprint of Shambhala Publications, March 2023, 32 pp., $17.95, cloth. For ages 0–2.

It’s OK gently guides readers through the afflictive emotions of sorrow, anger, guilt, and jealousy with reminders that the tremendous feelings we experience will eventually pass. In relatable vignettes, we observe the universality of these painful emotions and learn to soften how strongly we identify with them. The resounding message is that we are all deserving of care and compassion. This illustration-forward storybook is great for new readers and includes ten exercises at the end to help develop self-compassion, such as “Kind Voice” and “Kind Touch.” 

Ashoka the Fierce: How an Angry Prince Became India’s Emperor of Peace
Written by Carolyn Kanjuro, with illustrations by Sonali Zohra. Bala Kids, an imprint of Shambhala Publications, December 2021, 40 pp., $17.95, cloth. For ages 4–8.

Carolyn Kanjuro presents a modern retelling of the epic Indian tale of how Ashoka the Fierce became known as Ashoka the Great. An angry and overlooked young prince, Ashoka grew into a fierce emperor eager for war. But after a particularly bloody battle, Ashoka experienced a change of heart and vowed to dedicate his life to promoting Buddhist teachings on ​​compassion, tolerance, and virtue. Accompanied by mural-like illustrations, Ashoka’s compelling story of transformation exemplifies our potential to overcome feelings that seem unshakable.

Love Your Amazing Self: Joyful Verses for Young Voices
Written by Ofosu Jones-Quartey, with illustrations by Ndubisi Okoye. Storey Publishing, 2022, 72 pp., $17.99, cloth. For ages 7 and up.

Ofosu Jones-Quartey, a meditation teacher and hip-hop musician, seamlessly carries readers through teachings of mindfulness, gratitude, and self-compassion in a playful blend of illustrations and lyrical verse. With words that call out to be spoken, recited, or sung aloud, this book invites young readers to step into the creativity of self-expression through an embodied practice. 

Buddhist Stories for Kids: Jataka Tales of Kindness, Friendship, and Forgiveness
Written by Laura Burges, with illustrations by Sonali Zohra. Bala Kids, an imprint of Shambhala Publications, December 2022, 76 pp., $18.95, cloth. For ages 4–8. 

The Jataka tales are ancient stories of the Buddha’s lives before his birth as Prince Siddhartha. This modern retelling of ten tales by Soto Zen teacher and retired educator Laura Burges is written with readers aged 4–8 in mind. These rich morality tales and vibrant illustrations feature a wise gardener, a mischievous monkey, a discerning gazelle, and other characters relaying lessons that can be easily understood and incorporated into a child’s daily life right away: opening our hearts to others, the value of a true friend, and that everything changes.

—Wendy Biddlecombe Agsar, “What We’re Reading” from Tricycle’s Winter 2022 issue

Don’t Kill the Bugs: How Kids Can Be Heroes for Creatures Big and Small
Written by Berthe Jansen, with illustrations by Victoria Coles. Bala Kids, an imprint of Shambhala Publications, March 2023, 32 pp., $17.95, cloth. For ages 3–7. 

“Be kind, don’t kill. That harmless bee is scared, just like you. That tiny thing has real feelings, too!” This gentle story follows a group of friends as they learn to reconsider their relationship with the small beings of the earth—spiders, ladybugs, bees, and beetles—that are equally deserving of kindness and compassion. This book prompts reflection on how we respond to moments of conflict, fear, or uncertainty. 

Kuan Yin: The Princess Who Became the Goddess of Compassion
Written by Maya van der Meer, with illustrations by Wen Hsu. Bala Kids, an imprint of Shambhala Publications, May 2021, 32 pp., $17.95, cloth. For ages 4–8.

Featuring whimsical illustrations, this fairy tale about how Kuan Yin, the Chinese translation for the bodhisattva of compassion, came to be will delight children who love princesses, animals, and adventures. It’s also a story about two sisters supporting each other and the importance of following one’s heart.

–Alison Spiegel, Tricycle’s Web Editor

Everything Changes: And That’s OK
Written by Carol Dodd, with illustrations by Erin Huybrechts. Bala Kids, an imprint of Shambhala Publications, October 2022, 32 pp., $17.95, cloth. For ages 3–7. 

“Everything changes, night to day. Everything changes, and that’s OK.” The concept of impermanence is thoughtfully explained in Everything Changes through vibrant illustrations and bouncy, rhyming couplets. By exploring change across place, relationship, and seasons, this book reminds children that change does not have to be scary and they can instead find comfort in the liveliness of change. 

The post Buddhist Books for Kids appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Glimpse the lives of children raised in Buddhist monasteries by following five-year-old Hopakuli and his older brother Chorten, two novice monks living in Lumbini, Nepal, as they navigate homesickness and infuse the rigors of a monastic lifestyle with youthful joy and imagination.

This film was available to stream until midnight on Friday, November 6th, 2020. Tricycle’s screening has ended, but you can find the film on Vimeo, Amazon, Google Play, and Vudu.

Hopakuli | Courtesy of Yuqi Kang

Young monks play in the courtyard of Karma Samten Ling Monastery in Lumbini | Courtesy of Yuqi Kang

Hopakuli | Courtesy of Yuqi Kang

The young monks of Karma Samten Ling Monastery | Courtesy of Yuqi Kang

Hopakuli | Courtesy of Yuqi Kang

The post A Little Wisdom appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

When Bethany Saltman’s daughter, Azalea, was born fourteen years ago, she felt love—and impatience and anger and other strong emotions she knew were inside her that we don’t often associate with motherhood. 

Saltman, a writer and longtime Zen practitioner who spent several years living at Zen Mountain Monastery in New York State’s Catskill Mountains, decided to investigate these difficult feelings. Her curiosity about the connection between her and Azalea led her to attachment theory and the American-Canadian developmental psychologist Mary Ainsworth (1913–1999). Attachment theory, first developed by the British psychologist John Bowlby and expanded by Ainsworth, posits that our future relationships and many other aspects of our lives are determined by the way that our parents tended to us in our early months, teaching us to regulate our emotions (or not) and to develop qualities such as empathy and insight.

Ainsworth is credited with developing the Strange Situation, a 20-minute laboratory procedure that ascertains the type of attachment shown by a one-year-old baby toward a caregiver (usually, but not always the mother). In the Strange Situation, the child toddles into a room that doesn’t look like a laboratory, making a beeline for the blocks, dolls, or poster on the wall. The parent and child play for a few moments. Then there’s a knock at the door and the parent leaves the child in the room, either alone or with a stranger who has entered and tries to keep the child entertained. Researchers believe that what happens next—tears, ambivalence, anger—determines so much about how we relate to others, not only at a year old, but throughout the rest of our lives.

Ainsworth’s procedure, based on her field research of attachment styles in mothers and their babies in Uganda, was a major development in attachment theory and remains the “gold standard in psych labs everywhere for assessing security between children and their caregivers,” according to Saltman. 

Saltman’s own “discovery” of attachment theory led to more than a decade of research into Ainsworth’s life and work, as well as to an examination of her own relationships and the intersections between attachment and karma. Her book about her findings, Strange Situation: A Mother’s Journey into the Science of Attachment, was published by Ballantine Books in April. Saltman joined Wendy Biddlecombe Agsar, Tricycle’s editor-at-large and resident new mother, to talk about the intersection of dharma and attachment.

***

So, some of my questions are more personal than I’m used to asking. But I have a 10-month-old baby, and it’s hard to ignore that while reading your book. I am totally into that.

I think we have to start with the basics. Can you start by telling me how you became interested in attachment theory? When my daughter, Azalea, was born, I noticed that I was confused by my feelings. In addition to love, I quickly noticed all these other parts of myself appearing—impatience, frustration, anger. I somehow thought that I would enter some other realm and that those edgier parts would be eclipsed by this love. I quickly discovered that this was not the case, and frankly, it scared me. I felt like there must be something wrong with me and I wanted to understand: Am I OK? Can I do this? Can I love this person?

Once a woman becomes a mother, every single thing she does, thinks, and feels is charged because our culture is very invested in the maternal experience.

So I started to read and investigate. I had heard about attachment, but I didn’t understand what it was, and I had become really worried that my so-called “attachment” with Azalea was going to be insecure. Then I heard about the Strange Situation and started to see pictures of Mary Ainsworth, and I just fell for her. I thought: “Who is this woman? She doesn’t have children, she’s very formal, but so friendly.” She’s from an era that I happen to love, and she reminds me of my grandma. And when I realized that in 20 minutes you could learn so much about a relationship between a mother and child I was like “Oh my God, count me in, I want to know everything there is to know about my relationship with my daughter.” For some reason, from the very beginning I really believed in it. 

Going back to all of these difficult emotions—we don’t have a lot of examples of the reality of motherhood. I had a baby last year, and I still feel, especially with social media and the way society is, that it’s supposed to be this wonderful and beautiful experience. And when you breastfeed, you’re supposed to have this amazing bond. Sometimes breastfeeding is amazing, but sometimes you’re hungry or tired and you have to pee and you’ve already tried to feed the baby like five times in an hour. And there’s no picture of that. One hundred percent, yes. As I wrote in one article, “People always tell me I’m brave for writing this book.” That comment alone tells me how afraid I should be. But I love my daughter so much, and I am willing to expose myself for her, I can make this an offering and say, “Look, I didn’t just get hungry or have to pee when I was nursing—I got mad.”

But if sitting on the cushion for however many years has taught me anything, it’s that if we can’t open the door to these difficult feelings, they will make themselves known somehow. And it might get ugly. Full stop. If we want to take care of this, there’s one way to do it: be all of our feelings. That’s all there is to it, and it’s very, very difficult.

I gave birth to my son via C-section, and it seemed that everything surrounding that decision seemed to be up for debate as to what was the best thing. I even had one woman in my mother’s group tell me she was so sorry that I didn’t have a “natural” birth. It’s these little things I never realized could be so charged. Well, once a woman becomes a mother, every single thing she does, thinks, and feels is charged because our culture is very invested in the maternal experience. This basically cancels out subtlety, nuance, and real feelings, because they’re very threatening. When, in fact, the bigger threat—as Mary Ainsworth discovered and as the Buddha discovered—is not having those feelings.

I think it’s important to note, like you write in the book, that up until the 1950s researchers believed that babies just needed parents for things like food. You write about the American behavioral psychologist B. F. Skinner, who kept his baby daughter in a climate-controlled “baby box.” The idea that babies need our love and attention was really a radical thing. Indeed. And I think today, as a culture, we are a little bit unclear about where we stand on that. Anybody would say “Of course babies need love.” But what does that mean for us? We almost treat the idea of needing love with a behaviorist slant—like love is a thing that you present with your breasts. It’s this belief that our children need us, because we don’t like love that’s messy. It’s the Instagram version of love, which is an awful lot like a baby box.

So you mean that love in our culture could mean doing something for your baby, like feeding them organic food, more than the actual feeling? That’s the checklist approach to love and attachment. This idea of doing things right is rigid and so deeply entrenched in our minds. It’s easy to say “Of course I love my baby, and of course they need me to love them. Look, I’m nursing, I’m feeding them organic stuff. I’m driving myself insane with effort, that must mean something. I’m smiling, I’m rejoicing, I’m doing all these things.”

But what Mary Ainsworth noticed in securely attached relationships was “mutual delight.” That is something that you can’t fake. We’re getting really good at almost faking it with our phones and pictures. We can look at someone’s Instagram feed and think they’re delighting in life. But we must know better, right?

How exactly do researchers determine attachment patterns based on 20 minutes of watching a child and mother in a room? During the Strange Situation, the researchers observe and take very particular notes about what’s going on during these reunions and separations—all the different types of attachment behavior. Ainsworth had a system of determining what kind of attachment relationship was being expressed during the 20 minutes, and they all flow from three types of behavior: secure, insecure/avoidant, and insecure/resistant [a fourth classification was later added for babies that were inconsistent, disorganized, or confused]. There are also subsets of these primary classifications. 

The Strange Situation is not an experiment; it’s a research tool. You get a baseline of the kind of relationship this parent and child have, and use that information for some kind of strategic solution—group therapy or video-based interventions, for example—that promotes reflective, functioning parents. You might use the Strange Situation at the end of the strategy to see whether it worked.

Researchers have also found that there’s a 75 percent correlation between a parent’s attachment and their child’s attachment at one year. Can you explain how the Strange Situation is used to come to that conclusion? In terms of our future this is a really important point, and one that dharma practitioners will be able to appreciate. What we see at one year is a flash, a snapshot of where that relationship between a caregiver and child stands, based on millions and trillions of minute interactions that have happened in that first year. Non-Buddhists often think of karma as some moral law or destination, as in you get what you deserve. Sometimes we do, and sometimes we don’t. What the Buddha meant by karma is the way every cause will have an effect. We can’t always know what that effect will be, but an accumulation of karmic seeds will affect us, for sure. This is true in culture, as we’re seeing now more clearly than ever, and in our families.

Karma works by developing power as it continues, and the only way to stop a karmic causation is to get in its way and give it a stronger dose of something else. Otherwise, our attachment tends to continue, not because there’s something magical about being one year old—it’s just karma; it’s just the way it goes. It’s incredible the way karmic seeds are sown and harvested. A strong positive event can certainly shift things. But if you’re avoidant at a year, you’ve got a good chance of being avoidant at 30.

I’ve felt a wide range of emotions since learning about this. It’s so amazing! But it’s also scary. What if I’m not securely attached, and then my son isn’t, either? There’s this opportunity and hope for change, and then this idea that things are just the way they are, that there’s no beginning and no end. Where do we go from there, in our practice, in our families? We practice. That’s all there is to do. It’s interesting information, but it doesn’t change the reality, which is that we’ve got one heart, one life to live.

I think the path of practice is the clearest thing in all of this. Everything else depends on so many different causes and conditions, but the path out seems to be clear. That’s what a securely attached adult does: they have mixed feelings. The avoidant baby at one year old is denying. It’s like that very fundamental dharmic understanding of heaven, hell, and other realms, jealous gods and all of that. Clinging takes many forms and so the avoidant baby is clinging to denial, to not feel what they’re feeling, by a year.

Well, and then there’s the other side, the resistant baby is also clinging to an idea of I’ll get it at some point, at some point this is going to feel good. Whereas the securely attached baby is able to actually experience their emotions to the point of extinguishing them, with the help of the parent. By the time we’re sitting on our cushions, we’re trying to learn how to do that on our own, extinguish our sensations by practicing them. By seeing through them, by experiencing them. A baby cannot do that, so that’s where we come in.

The avoidant baby in the Strange Situation is chilling. Their heart rate and stress levels are going up, but they sit there like a stone, while their parent is in the doorway, saying, “Daniel, I’m here, hi.” The avoidant babies ignore their own experience; they can’t tolerate the feeling of sadness, and by a year they’re repressing, they’re angry, they’re distancing themselves. They’re separating from their own experience because the parents, for whatever reason—and there are lots of good, understandable reasons—haven’t been able to be present with their child enough so that the child has fluency with their own sensations. And then the resistant child: they can feel for a second, then they have to step off, and then feel again, then step off.

What are some good reasons why a parent may not be able to be present with their child? They’re depressed, or had a traumatic childhood and never learned how to be attentive. Or they’re experiencing COVID-19, poverty, job loss. There are innumerable good reasons. A parent might have a hard time paying attention to a child because they’re having a hard time with their own experience and their internal life. And for those reasons, the result might be the same: a child won’t feel like they can trust that the parent will be there for them, which might lead to avoidance behavior at one year old.

One of my favorite concepts to come from the attachment literature was from Mary Main, a psychologist who had studied with Mary Ainsworth: she called it attentional flexibility. From a dharma perspective, that’s golden. When we’re sitting on our cushion and have thoughts passing through, our intention is to let go of them and return to the present. That’s developing attentional flexibility, and a secure baby in the Strange Situation has this. They are despairing, at the brink of death, their loved one is gone, and that is a seriously distressful situation. So they’re brought to the edge just a little bit and then when the parent returns they’re able to be, like, “Oh . . . that’s over,” and go back to playing. It’s like when we notice we’re thinking when we’re sitting. It takes so many of us a lifetime—at least—to learn how to do this, because we don’t have intentional flexibility—we get so stuck in our thoughts or lost in space. We’re rigid, we’re excessive, we’re avoidant, we’ll do anything but be present in the moment. And we can see that happening exactly in the Strange Situation with an insecure one-year-old. The insecure baby gets caught in their feelings of loss when the parent leaves, and they can’t return to playing when the parent returns because they don’t have a trusting relationship.

I’m definitely curious, and I’m sure other people will be, too. Do you have advice for people who want to learn more about their first year of life? Can this knowledge help us? As interesting as our patterns are, ultimately, I don’t think we have to know all the details of our early lives. If you’re really interested, then practice becoming more present. You’ll learn everything you need to know through rigorous self-study. By learning to work with yourself, you’ll become a more delighting person and parent, and your child will become more securely attached and just a happier person. It’s not like if you’re avoidant there’s one treatment and if you’re resistant there’s another.

Get right with yourself, get to know yourself, metabolize your feelings, and ask what is getting in your way. I could go on and on, but that’s our work as dharma practitioners and the work of anybody who wants to free themselves of their past. The past is fascinating and I totally support therapy and any kind of work you want to do. But ultimately, everything we need is right here, right now, in the present, on the cushion or wherever you are.

What haven’t I asked you that you’d like people to know about the book? This book is not just for parents; it’s for anybody who has a parent. Because it isn’t just about how we raise children—it’s how we raise ourselves to be reasonable, happy, delightful adults. And it’s never too late, or too early, to take a look at our minds. To me, a secure attachment is kind of a North Star: Some of us may never get there, but that doesn’t matter—it matters that we have intention and that we manifest that lovingkindness from wherever we begin.

Your book reminded me about something that Sharon Salzberg talks about in a podcast I listened to recently. She had a very difficult childhood, but she says that she was able to “re-parent” herself through her teachers by drawing upon qualities she saw in them. Exactly: the way that we talk is important, and we talk to our children the way we talk to ourselves. A friend of mine recently said, “The first person you talk to in the morning is you.” If we can put a microphone to that voice and hear it, we would learn a lot. And you don’t have to be a meditator, or a Buddhist—we’re just in a very fortunate position because we have the tools.

The post Strange Situation appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Shortly after the arrival of my first child, a friend without children innocently asked how my meditation practice was going. Flustered and embarrassed, I mumbled something vague, as I bounced my baby on my chest to soothe her. Truth was, I had no energy or time to sit on a cushion, since every minute was spent on this newborn. The moment signaled to me that my meditation routine had radically changed and that, unless I had Angelina-Jolie-like levels of childcare, I’d need to thoroughly rethink how to meditate with children in the home. 

What follows is what I learned over the years combined with the pragmatic experience of countless others with children who figured out how to not only maintain meditation practice but also actually deepen it in profound ways.

Abandon all hope, ye who have children under three. If you have even one child under the age of three and you’re both at home all day, forget attempting formal, seated meditation. You get a Meditation Pass. If you have a quiet moment alone, go take a shower, exercise, nap, or watch a clip that makes you laugh. If the young one is taking an extended nap, by all means, sit on that cushion! However, toddlers have this freaky antenna that sends them a signal: “My caregiver is meditating, so now it’s time to wake up!” Parents consistently report that whenever they meditate, even if it’s at 4 a.m., the child will wake. We have no idea why, but it’s utterly maddening.

Turn quieter caregiving moments into meditation. Many infant or toddler tasks lend themselves beautifully to mindfulness meditation, if you do them intentionally. Nursing or bottle feeding, diapering, rocking the baby to sleep, bathing, strollering, walks with a carrier, and cuddling can all be done as meditations, with full attention to your senses, and touching into the breath. If the baby is on your body, you can breathe with the baby’s breaths. As with formal meditation, devices and screens are best shut down and out of sight. 

With preschoolers and older children, meditate at the playground. If you’re alone at the park, since you have to watch them for safety anyway, use the time to be fully present. Practice mindfulness with each sense: listen to cars going by or the wind blowing through the trees; feel your butt on the cold bench or the warmth of your coat; smell the melting snow or the waft of Cheerios’ aroma from the snack cup.

Reassign your meditation location from home to work. Many adults on active family duty change their meditation period to strategic times at their place of work. Some meditate in their car in the office parking lot before heading inside for the day or returning home. Meditating in the car also works for those who pick up their children from school. Some meditate on the bus or subway. Others meditate at lunch. Some create meditation groups with their colleagues. 

Meditate when the kids are sleeping. Once your children are older (over 3 or so, and depending on their developmental needs), you may have more energy left over to meditate in the early morning, later in the evening, or during their naptime. The “antenna problem” mentioned above seems to end once the kids start school. 

Adjust how you meditate. Because childcare is so demanding, you may not have enough sleep or mental energy to concentrate as easily as before. As such, you may need to shift from focusing on one object (such as the breath) to opening your range of awareness. Listening meditation, body scan or body sensation awareness, walking meditation, and calm abiding may be more doable. Believe it or not, you will still have important insights despite not accessing a more settled, concentrated meditation.

If you had a crappy childhood, emphasize meditations on compassion or kindness for yourself. Parenting can bring up old patterns and pain from your own childhood, and you may end up unconsciously reenacting them with your children. Becoming a parent presents a golden opportunity to not only heal from your past but also become a significantly more conscious, loving parent in the present. To begin this healing, spend ample time doing metta (lovingkindness) for yourself. This work is actually about healing generations of trauma. Raising non-traumatized children means, ideally, that they will raise your grandchildren in a functional home, and so on. If I had to just give one piece of advice to parents it would be to do extensive meditation on self-compassion.

(I discussed this point at length in August in a Dharma Talk video series on nurturing an intentional, compassionate family. You can watch it here.)

Reframe “me time” to “we time.” Persisting in the pre-parent habit of thinking that you can only feel rejuvenated if you get “me time”—and for meditators, “me time” means silent, seated meditation—will only result in frustration and further feelings of depletion. If you find yourself thinking this way, you may need to make a considerable shift in identity such that “me” now includes your family members. This takes time, but it’s worth it. Opening up your sense of self to also consist of relationships reveals how the self is constructed through interconnectedness (or as Thich Nhat Hanh says, “interbeing”). Once you let go of the solitary self, spending time with your children becomes meditation itself, as long as you are with them intentionally in this way (again, no distractions, especially in the form of devices). This tectonic shift in identity is probably the single largest transformation a meditating parent undergoes, and it has profound implications for spiritual growth. 

Practice with your children. Some families pull off the amazing feat of meditating together, but most find this to be a huge stretch as too many conditions (cohesion of developmental stages/ages, schedule alignment, etc.) have to come together to realistically make it happen. However, there are many ways to create a meditative family culture. For example, I’ve woven in times of intentional silence from my children’s earliest years so that they feel comfortable with quiet and being with themselves without distraction. We’ve practiced silence for portions of time while driving, going for walks, and cuddling. Another practice is to narrate what you’re aware of in the present moment—again, very informally. “I’m smelling the rain as it dries from the sidewalk; I see sparkles of sun on the wet leaves; I hear squirrels chattering.” Doing so not only helps you practice mindfulness but lays groundwork for your child’s own awareness. They’ll likely add further notes to yours.

(You can also incorporate meditation into your children’s bedtime routine with a nighttime metta practice.) 

Don’t be a stone-cold Buddha. Should your children stumble into your bedroom when you and/or your spouse are meditating, don’t panic. It’s good for your children to see you meditating, as it plants seeds for their future practice. In our times, it is radical to choose to sit still and be silent, to resist an identity of busyness, ceaseless motion, and noise, and to reclaim our sanity and humanity by coming home to ourselves. However, when your child comes across you meditating, break from your meditation and welcome them into your lap. Embrace them with full tenderness, hold them, and breathe with them for a few minutes until they’re ready to float off elsewhere (and you may need to end your meditation, then, too). If you remain as a stone-cold Buddha when your child enters your zone, the child receives the message that meditation means disconnection and distance. If, however, you enfold the child into your peaceful sphere, the child associates meditation with care, presence, and love.

The post How to Meditate While Raising Kids appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Ten years ago, quality dharma books for my preschool children were few: Zen Shorts, Peaceful Piggy Meditation, and Prince Siddhartha were (and remain among) the best. Other early efforts had desultory illustrations, stultifying storytelling, and cheesey packaging. I found that Buddhist ideas were often conveyed more effectively by non-dharma books such as The Rainbow Fish (generosity), The Listening Walk (mindful walking), and The Bear with the Sword (karma). Thankfully, publishers are coming up to speed. Among a plethora of recent books providing high-caliber illustrations, playful story lines, and valuable teaching points are the following:

The Life of the Buddha
Written by Heather Sanche, Illustrations by Tara di Gesu. Bala Kids, an imprint of Shambhala Publications, April 2020, $17.95, 44 pp., paper. For ages 4–8.

Children’s books on the Buddha’s life are typically pedantic, banal, and/or poorly illustrated. This fresh version, however, gets it all about right. Tara di Gesu’s richly colored, detailed illustrations match the gentle, tender tone of the writing. Some of the art is worthy of printing in large wall-poster format. Heather Sanche frames Siddhartha’s journey in psychological, social, and spiritual terms—a realistic approach that elides mythological elements and takes some liberties with the traditional narrative. Still, the text provides essential teachings in accessible ways that will prompt young readers to ask good questions.

I Am Love: A Book of Compassion
Written by Susan Verde, Illustrations by Peter Reynolds. Abrams Books, September 2019, $14.99, 32 pp., cloth. For ages 3–7.

Susan Verde and Peter Reynolds team up for their fourth book in the “I Am” series for the theme of enacting compassion. I Am Peace, the second in the series, is one of my all-time favorite mindfulness-based storybooks, and I didn’t think it could be surpassed, but I Am Love knocks it out of the park. Verde’s text provides clear ideas for responding to distress, not just for others but in oneself, while Reynolds’s lively, beautifully inclusive illustrations convey a story line that will capture even a small child’s attention right through to the last period. The entire book exudes love, wrapping up with fabulous instructions on heart-opening yoga poses and meditation.

Everything Is Connected
Written by Jason Gruhl, Illustrations by Ignasi Font. Bala Kids, an imprint of Shambhala Publications, February 2019, $16.95, 36 pp., cloth. For ages 4–8.

Stop! I can’t bear it—this book is too wonderful! Jason Gruhl invokes Dr. Seuss with some light rhyming and brings up everything that entrances children—tarantulas, slime, comets, you name it. Ignasi Font’s visually complex and incredibly funny illustrations (a blobfish that looks like Squidward?) will keep kids observing even on the hundredth read. A thin line threads through each page, reinforcing the title and drawing the eye through the narrative. And the end—oh, the ending! I almost keeled over in fits of pure joy upon reading it. The book is destined to become a dharma classic.

The post What Our Kids Are Reading appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

How can you help a child reap the benefits of mindfulness, especially if they’re not old enough to read or sit still for very long?

Breathe and Be: A Book of Mindfulness Poems aims to introduce kids aged 4–8 to mindfulness by connecting them to the natural world through poems and accompanying images.  

The poems use a five-line form of Japanese poetry called tanka, an early version of haiku.

Below are three poems and illustrations from the collection, which was written by Kate Coombs and illustrated by Anna Emilia Laitinen.

I breathe slowly in,
I breathe slowly out. My breath
is a river of peace.
I am here in the world.
Each moment I can breathe and be. ​

​I watch the stream.
Each thought is a floating leaf.
One leaf is worry,
another leaf is sadness.
The leaves drift softly away.

I breathe slowly in,
I breathe slowly out. My breath 
is a pathway of peace
moving softly through me.
Each day I can breathe and be. 

Excerpted from Breathe and Be: A Book of Mindfulness Poems by Kate Coombs, illustrated by Anna Emilia Laitinen. Published by Sounds True, 2017.

[This article was first published in 2017.]

The post Three Poems to Introduce Children to Mindfulness appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

To raise mindful, compassionate children, parents must integrate practice into daily life and establish a strong foundation in their own practice to serve as a model. Sumi Loundon Kim, a Buddhist chaplain and author of the Sitting Together parenting curriculum, provides immediately applicable practices cultivated from her experiences as both a Buddhist chaplain and a mom.

In this series, you will learn practices for introducing mindfulness and compassion to your families’ daily routines and how to recognize and address harmful family patterns.

Read more: Goodnight Metta: A Bedtime Meditation for Kids by Sumi Loundon Kim

Sumi Loundon Kim is the Buddhist chaplain at Yale University and founder of the Mindful Families of Durham. She is the editor of the anthologies Blue Jean Buddha and The Buddha’s Apprentices, and the author of Sitting Together: A Family-Centered Curriculum on Mindfulness, Meditation, and Buddhist Teachings.

The post Mindful Parenting: Nurturing an Intentional, Compassionate Family appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

My preschooler son is amazing until he decides to be defiant. He’ll put his foot down and simply refuse to listen to what we ask him to do. This happens at least a once a day. Recently at the playground we gave him a five-minute reminder that we would be leaving, and he seemed OK, but when the time came he threw an epic tantrum. Our morning routine is the worst of all. When we are finally out the door (after a LOT of coaxing!), he starts crying, stands still, and does anything he can to delay leaving. We have tried many things—bribing him, carrying him, trying to reason with him—but to no avail. Is there something wrong with my child? Please help!

Sounds like you have pulled out all the stops to deal with your son’s strong will. I understand that you may be feeling helpless, but you can take heart that your child’s behavior pattern is most likely a healthy developmental milestone. His motor skills are improving rapidly, enabling him to explore his surroundings independently. He is also developing a sense of self, trying to define who he is and what he can do. So you find him exerting himself, pushing and experimenting with boundaries, which stems from his evolutionary need to learn life skills and establish autonomy. But a lot of his inexperienced adventures might be dangerous—like playing with a kitchen knife—or simply unacceptable, such as a whim to decorate your family photo with ketchup. It isn’t surprising that his misadventures are therefore frequently met with the word no, leaving him confused and disappointed. Now you are the lucky one with the responsibility to encourage his independence while teaching him limits. Sounds like a tall order! Let me share a step-by-step guide on how to manage these situations.

1. Check Safety
   Use your keen parenting instincts to assess if your child is putting himself or others in danger during his explorations or tantrums. If he is having a meltdown in the middle of a bustling street, quickly remove him from danger. Try to stay calm while doing so. Remember, you are his role model, so choose your reactions wisely.
2. Check in with Yourself
   Once you ensure your child’s safety, it’s time to hit your own reset button. Take a full deep breath. Dissolve any anger or frustration. Tune in to your body and relax any tense muscles. Now let go of expectations, including that of your child’s compliance.
3. Use Empathy
   Now put yourself in your child’s shoes. What is he feeling? Why is he feeling that way? Bring yourself to his eye level. If he is sitting down, sit with him. Tell him what you think he is feeling and why. If your child likes touch, give him a hug or hold his hand. When he feels understood, he will be open to work with you in reaching a resolution. A child’s misbehavior is often a mode of communicating something deeper.
4. Identify and Address Triggers
   Think of the last five tantrums. Do you notice a pattern? Look beneath the surface as there could be a deeper cause, such as transitioning to a new school, moving, parental stress (yes, even when you think you are doing a great job hiding it), bullying at school, being tired and hungry, or developmental delays. If you think his increased frustrations are due to speech or motor delays, or they seem odd, then consult a clinical professional. Otherwise, address what you think might be the underlying cause. If the trigger is your own stress, use stress-relief strategies such as practicing mindfulness meditation daily. In fact, research shows improvements in a child’s behavior even when just one parent practices meditation.
5. Communicate
   Since tantrums are a child’s way of communicating stress, they are also a great opportunity to teach them effective communication. The first step is to recognize that he is not throwing a tantrum to punish you. Listen carefully to what he is saying or doing. Understand where he is coming from and say it. For example, if he does not want to leave the playground after you give him a five-minute reminder, say, “I understand that the playground is a fun place and you want to play a bit more, but it is getting late for dinner. How about we come back again tomorrow?” When he hears these words, he realizes you understand why he is upset and you are offering him a solution. By modeling such communication, you will create a future expert communicator.
6. Become Mindful Together
   You can prevent tantrums simply by giving your child the gift of your time. All you need is five minutes a day to play with him mindfully. Choose a time when you won’t be rushed, such as after school. Let him take the lead. Repeat what you see him doing and saying. Praise him for his actions during this mindful playtime. Enjoy becoming a child with him! This will boost his confidence and enrich the parent-child relationship.
7. Teach Correct Response
   Once you build a solid foundation of trust, your child will be more receptive to being disciplined. Discipline is not about punishing. It is a way to gently teach boundaries, so your child can navigate the world smoothly. When you give instructions, you set him up for success. If you want him to listen to your instructions, give precise, short, three-step instructions. Remember that a child’s attention span is short. He may not listen to you because he simply forgets long and vague instructions. When your child listens, praise him for it. Be specific as to why you are praising. You could even set up a reward system. If your child is being stubborn, offer him a couple of options so he feels that he is making the final decision, not you

In the end, see if you can become mindful and take the “power” out of the power struggle between you and your little explorer. Be patient with yourself and your child. Use this bump in the road as a learning experience for both of you.

Related: Three Poems to Introduce Children to Mindfulness

The post How to Stay Mindful When Your Preschooler Isn’t appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

A new school opening in Woodstock, NY, this September will offer a primary school education based on the Buddhist understanding of wisdom and compassion. The Middle Way School will be nondenominational and aims for high academic achievement while teaching Buddhist ethical frameworks and contemplative practices. It will begin offering kindergarten and first and second grade classes in the fall and will grow by one grade a year through the twelfth grade.

Made possible by a grant from the nonprofit Khyentse Foundation and guided by the teachings of Bhutanese teacher and filmmaker Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche, the Middle Way School intends to build a model for Buddhist education that can be replicated around the world.

Below, Tricycle talks to Middle Way School Executive Director Noa Jones about the school’s approach to education.

What do you think is the benefit of a Buddhist school?
There is currently no formalized education for children within the Buddhist tradition. So, at the very least, we’ll fill that gap. But it’s not just that we’re teaching Buddhism; it’s really about the methodology around the education. We will be working from the perspective of recognizing inherent buddhanature in a child rather than just trying to fill them up with knowledge. There are a lot of things in the dharma that I think could enhance education. That’s what we are exploring.

Could you elaborate on what you mean by recognizing the buddhanature in a child?
I think a lot of education comes from a perspective that the adult knows something and the child doesn’t know something, and it’s the adults job to fill the head of the child with information. Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche’s guidance has been different. When explaining his view to me, he swept his arm across a table, pushing everything off, and said, “That’s what we are trying to get at.” We’re trying to clear away obstructions, so that the child’s natural brilliance will shine through.

But that’s just one element. Buddhism is also a tradition of inquiry, curiosity, and debate. It’s not that you’re supposed to simply accept the Buddha’s teachings. You’re supposed to test them, make them personal, and question the teacher. This concept of debate is really going to run through this educational method, in which we develop curiosity rather than squash it down.

In Catholic schools or yeshiva, there would be separate classes for religious studies and for math and English and so on. Will there be a separate sutra study class at the Middle Way School?
That’s a good question, and we’re still working out when things are going to happen. We’re going to grow by one grade each year. Right now, we have no intention of separating out and having special Buddhist classes with our first class of kindergarteners. For them, the Buddhist philosophy will be completely integrated into their regular education. But moving forward, when they’re 16 years old, they will have dedicated study, kind of like a shedra, or a Buddhist philosophy class. Also, there will be separate sitting practices or contemplative practices.

For science, Buddhist teachings will also be integrated. There will be a way of questioning from the Abhidharma [a highly analytical Buddhist text on philosophy dating back to the 3rd century] that you can bring into science. But that level of detail of the curriculum is still being worked out. We’re creating curriculum development teams for the fourth grade onward, where it really starts to get more academic.

Until they’re eight years old, the education will be play-based; in public school, they stop being play-based after pre-school. Some of the parents are telling us that their five-year-olds are already having exams. We will definitely not be giving exams to five year olds. You can learn so much through play, which is our basic philosophy for the early grades.

Is the play-based approach Buddhist inspired? Or is that just an additional thing?
It’s all inspired. There’s nothing written in Buddhist texts that says children should play until they’re 8, but Rinpoche said, “Play is so important. It’s not just the means, but it’s also the goal”—that they remain playful with how they live their lives. And there are all kinds of studies that back this up, that play supports cognitive and social development.

Why did you locate the school in Woodstock?
Woodstock has such a concentration of different Buddhist communities. Zen Mountain Monastery is here, and the Karmapa’s seat [at the Karma Triyana Dharmachakra temple] and other people from the Kagyu lineage of Tibetan Buddhism are here. And we have relationships with them. The original plan was to open a school in Bali, but I’m actually finding it much easier to work here. You’d think that in this litigious country that it would be more difficult to open a school, but they’re quite open. Once you start working on a nonformal, nonpublic school, the restrictions really open up. You’re quite free here.

Are there going to be nuns and monks among the teachers, or are you going to have all lay teachers?
In the beginning, we want professional early education teachers. It’s really, really important to us to have people that understand the developing child. And we’ve been lucky to find very strong practitioners who are also teachers.

We will also have Rinpoche and others do remote teaching through Skype or another means. And then we’ll probably have visiting spiritual masters come on a regular basis. We’re not intending to have our classroom instructors teach the dharma. When it gets to that point, we will have khenpos and geshes [monastics trained in the Tibetan Buddhist academic tradition] and roshis teaching the dharma.

What are the main concerns that you’re hearing from parents? It seems like they would be taking a risk sending their children to an experimental school.
It has been overwhelmingly positive. We had 70 people show up at our open house in March, and people are very excited about it. Some people said it’s the answer to their prayers. We have two families who are moving here so that their children can attend the school. Of course, when starting a new school, you have to have a certain tolerance for ambiguity, because I can’t tell you when exactly we’re going to start teaching Madhyamika [a school of Buddhism that emphasizes emptiness], for example. So, parents have to be OK with not knowing every single detail.

There’s a quote from Rinpoche on your website that says “to be a Buddhist is not of utmost importance for Buddhists. There isn’t one stanza in the entire Buddhist world that says, ‘May all become Buddhist.’” Can you unpack that?
The Buddha never said, “Oh, I hope everybody becomes a Buddhist.” And I don’t think most teachers walk around hoping that people will become Buddhists. What Rinpoche is saying is that they’ll realize their own buddhanature.

We want our students to be able to speak articulately about all the traditions of Buddhism, to understand its history, to understand the differences between the different yanas [Buddhist schools], to be able to pronounce things correctly, to know where to go to get information on the dharma—but that doesn’t make you a Buddhist. And we also want them to have some experience and some facility in doing the Buddhist practices, including knowing how to sit—but none of that makes you a Buddhist. So, if they choose to be Buddhists, great; if they choose not to, that’s totally fine.

The core belief of this school is the view of emptiness and the practice of bodhicitta [the wish to awaken for the sake of all beings]. I don’t think you have to be a Buddhist to have a sense of emptiness and then also to have a habit of trying to benefit others.

How important is cultural exchange going to be? Are there going to be more teachers from the Himalayan region or from Asia in general?
The cultural dimension is so incredibly important to this school. We had dancers from Delhi come to our last open house. At our next event, we are going to have Bharatanatyam Indian dance. Again, I can’t say for sure who our teachers are. We’re just going to go with who is the most qualified; we’re not necessarily concerned with where those teachers are from. But we are planning to have Mandarin be one of our languages and possibly Sanskrit. So, naturally we’ll have teachers from other places.

Our plan is to have Friday be a half-day for our teachers, so that they can use Friday afternoon to work on the research component of what we are doing. Meanwhile, we will bring in specialty teachers on Friday afternoon, when we might have an Indian dance class, for example, or some kind of music, which might be Japanese, Indian, or even Native American. We’re going to have a real array. The plan is to rotate through different cultures and different traditions.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

The Middle Way School will be holding its next open houses on April 28 and May 19.

The post Buddhist Elementary School Forging a New Path appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

A popular quote from the Tao Te Ching describes life as 10,000 joys and 10,000 sorrows. As parents, each new day seems to bring at least another 10,000 home.

The Buddha also mentioned something else most of us know to be true: life is stressful. Change and uncertainty are about the only constants we can depend on, and these can contribute to our suffering or our growth. Everything changes when we start a family, even down to our brain and hormones—in both women and men. There is little more stressful, uncertain, and full of change than the ongoing process of parenting. And while change is hard for us parents to accept, growing up is not all fun and excitement for kids, either.

So how do we deal with all this change? How do we abide the pains and joys of life—neither getting swept up in them nor turning our backs and ignoring them—and help our children learn to do the same?

Traditionally, this quality of abiding is called equanimity, an attitude that is not to be mistaken for passivity or indifference.

When it comes to our family, equanimity is inextricably linked with compassion. We can have equanimity without compassion, like when we feel burned out and cynically dismiss our kids’ concerns as mere manipulation. We can also have compassion without equanimity, responding to their immediate wants over their long-term needs because of our own intolerance of their discomfort. As I heard someone recently put it, compassion with equanimity means, “I want you to be happy, but I don’t need you to be happy in order to be OK.”

Rather, equanimity is a radical acceptance of not-knowing and a means of not taking everything so personally. In meditation, we are often taught to recognize strong and difficult emotions as they arise without acting upon them, just like noticing the weather. We can do this with our loved ones as well, noting in our children, “Ah, anger is here. Sadness is here”—though, depending on the mood, perhaps not noting these thoughts aloud. In this way, we open ourselves to a deeper engagement with all of life, embodying balance and stability in the face of uncertainty and change. Most important, equanimity better enables us to develop a stable, secure base for attachment with our children, ensuring their optimal physical, psychological, and spiritual development.

The Eight Worldly Winds
Equanimity is said to keep us on the right track in the face of eight worldly winds—fame and disrepute (or praise and blame), gain and loss, success and failure, and joy and sorrow. We could all probably add a few more “winds” that we’ve experienced, but this list covers a great deal of what we face in life.

Buddhism teaches that the nature of suffering is dual and permeable, which is to say that we experience suffering together, and it’s contagious. We are only as happy as our unhappiest child, as parents are fond of saying.

And often, the stronger our bonds with our children, the more vividly we are blown about by their eight winds, experiencing their joys and sorrows in the complex dance of interpersonal neurobiology. One week our kids are invited to the “cool” party; the next, they are back with the “nerd herd.” They win praise for their finding balance in a broken world and staying steady through the stressful role in the winter musical but then are blamed for losing the playoff game because they missed the fly ball. One spring they celebrate the success of acceptance to the college of their dreams, and the next fall they lose their scholarship when their grades slip. One bright summer day brings unbelievable joy at the beach followed by inconsolable sorrow when their ice cream cone crashes onto the hot pavement. These delights, slings, and arrows come and go throughout their lives and our own.

They also mirror each other. When our child is the difficult one at the playground, we watch as the other parents shrink away from us and playdate invitations fade. When our teen gets into trouble, we face the judgment of other parents who don’t want their kids hanging out with our bad influence. We too are certain to face these winds in the parenthood journey, if we haven’t already. The day my son was due, my sister called to tell me she had been diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer. One day our family has it all; the next day we lose a job, a house, or even a family member. One year we are the cool parent in our child’s group of friends; the next we are infamously uptight and old-fashioned. Our own therapist praises our parenting, but our child’s therapist gives us a long list of “suggestions.” One year we celebrate our child’s coming of age, the next we have to bury our own parents. The challenge in all of this is learning neither to overidentify with these changes nor to see them as permanent.

The good (and bad) news is that all the winds are temporary. Equanimity acts like the ballast of a ship. Although the ship is blown one way or the other by the winds of life, it neither sinks nor goes too far off-course.

Here is how these eight winds can play out in our lives:

Fame and Disrepute (Praise and Blame)
How well your family approaches and learns from these winds will determine your family’s resilience. One of the best ways to deal with praise and blame is to be well-rounded, which is not the same as being hyperscheduled. You’re more than a parent, just as your child is more than your son or daughter. Everyone in your family has multiple roles and activities that mean a lot to you, and it’s important to recognize that and to hold your identities lightly and enjoy them. To balance a ship, ballast must be spread evenly and widely.

If your child is overattached to their identity as the smartest kid or the best soccer player, they will struggle when the world inevitably suggests otherwise. This is often when they’ll melt down, act out, or just give up on something that had been important to them. Even worse, they can become anxious and depressed, turn to drugs or cutting, or any number of other behaviors that land them in my office (or landed me in the offices of several therapists when I was a kid). We can help them shift their identities in ways that will serve them in the long run.

For example, we can balance the identity of smart kid with the more sustainable identity of hard worker. Even better, we encourage kids in their various interests so they have a range of identities to fall back on. They might not get an A on the spelling test, but they’re still a beloved grandchild, helpful friend, and decent skateboarder. Likewise, if they ace the test, they can feel great at something without overinflating their ego, because they’re better able to put their successes in context.

Gain and Loss
Just like praise and blame, gain and loss are inevitable parts of life from childhood onward. Although winning and losing streaks always end, we can accept the flow of victories and defeats.

In addition—although it’s tricky—we can learn to find silver linings when things don’t go our way. We can prepare ourselves and our children for the more difficult times to come by first working through the smaller challenges of skinned knees and broken hearts. We can practice equanimity much better when we understand how events are interdependent. We also develop equanimity when we look into the future with the same acceptance we have at examining the winding path that got us to where we are today.

Equanimity arises when we renounce control—or, more accurately, when we renounce the illusion of control. Ideally, we learn along the way to strike a workable balance between letting our children live their own lives and make their own mistakes and keeping them happy and safe. Being a parent requires doing both.

Success and Failure
It’s natural to seek success in life and to want the same for our children. However, the dangers of success are arrogance and pride, which are often deficiencies in gratitude and the wisdom of interdependence.

Fortunately, we can accompany any success we meet with mindful gratitude for others. A wise mentor once advised me, “Remember when you feel proud of an accomplishment to also feel grateful to those who helped you.” We can model gratitude in the face of success with our children and point it out when we see the same happening in the world, helping them understand how their successes are built upon their relationships with others. By encountering success in this manner, we foster equanimity in all of us.

Setbacks are painful, but they too hold powerful lessons in equanimity. It’s far too easy to become fixated on what failures seem to represent in the moment—not meeting an explicit goal or desire. It’s much harder to see the bigger picture and take the long view. The truth is, the path to success is often circuitous, with plenty of failures along the way. Reflect on how this is true for you and share your journey with your children, or tell your kids stories about well-known people who had unexpected paths to success. Discuss your own setbacks, career changes, and odd meanderings with your kids—within reason, of course. Most important, reframe your so-called failures as opportunities. Doing so will help your children connect the dots between overcoming setbacks, staying true to one’s values, hard work, and inevitable rewards.

We all need to fail from time to time. Learning, adaptation, and resilience require some degree of defeat. It’s not only OK to let your children fail; it’s also wise to do so. Learning to bounce back from “failure” is one of the most useful gifts you can offer the adults they will eventually become. Only by making their way through smaller setbacks do our children learn how to deal with bigger ones.

Joy and Sorrow, Pleasure and Pain
Humans are resilient. Consider the fact that our species has survived millennia of violence, disease, starvation, and emotional pain of all types. As the Buddha famously pointed out, suffering is inevitable. None of us will escape sorrow and pain, not even people who devote their lives to the spiritual path.

An interviewer once asked the Dalai Lama about his regrets in life. The holy man replied that after a student of his had once committed suicide, he had felt regret and responsibility for the man’s death. When asked by the interviewer how to get rid of such a feeling, the Dalai Lama paused and said: “I didn’t. It’s still there. I just don’t allow it to drag me down and pull me back. I realized that being dragged down or held back by it would be to no one’s benefit . . . not mine or anybody else’s. So I go forward and do the best I can.” We’re not trying to get rid of pain—ours or our children’s. We can be saddened by pain, by our regrets and mistakes, and yet keep moving forward. This, too, is the wisdom of equanimity.

♦

Adapted from Raising Resilience: The Wisdom and Science of Happy Families and Thriving Children by Christopher Willard, PsyD. Copyright © 2017 by Christopher Willard. Published by Sounds True in October 2017.

The post How Parents and Children Can Learn Balance and Equanimity from the Eight Worldly Winds appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.