Starting the Day

How does technology mesh with mindfulness, or should I say is it possible to find some connection between the two? Yes, I do believe it is possible, but it must be deliberate use of technology. One of my favorite ways to connect technology with mindfulness is a daily practice I started several years ago. My very first email I open each day is one from Panhala (meaning "source of fresh water" in Hindi). Each day I spend a few moments of awareness with a new poem that speaks to mindfulness, compassion, life. Panhala is a free yahoo group, open to anyone who would like these moments of contemplation delivered to their inbox every day. Today's poem was especially appropriate:

life is a garden,
not a road

we enter and exit 
through the same gate

wandering,
where we go matters less 
than what we notice

~Bokonon~


Do We Need to Lose Things Before We Can Find Kindess?

I was pleased to learn that the award winning poet, Naomi Shihab Nye is the 2013 Robert Creeley Foundation Winner and will be presenting a reading of her poems in the Boston area (Acton-Boxborough High School, Acton MA) on Wednesday, March 6 at 7:30 PM.

One of her poems, Kindness, is a particular favorite of mine.  I was first introduced to this poem when I was training to teach mindfulness at the Center of Mindfulness in Medicine, Health Care, and Society. What struck me when I first read the poem and as I re-read the poem again and again is the notion that experiencing loss opens one to the ability to give and receive kindness more wholly.

What do you think? I would love to hear your thoughts and comments...do we need to lose things before we can find kindness?


Kindness
(Naomi Shihab Nye)
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.