Welding Compassion
In Selecting this essay for the third-place in the James Strickland Scholarship, emeritus professor James Strickland notes, “James Byron’s essay was a delightful surprise: a meditation upon the value of teaching meditation, controlling one’s breathing, and practicing compassion. All of it done while supposedly teaching welding techniques at a trade school. James’ unusual story includes the reaction of some of his students, like Leroy from Homewood, but the real joy of the piece is hearing how James himself became a convert. Imagine the karate kid with a welder’s mask.”
By James Byron
Have you ever considered the power of a single breath?
We all breath, automatically, involuntarily. It’s something we do naturally, without thinking. Sometimes taking a single breath consciously, with meaning, with thought, can not only improve your day, it can change your life.
During the fall semester of Triangle Tech’s welding class, for which I was the instructor, I would come to know my students. Together our class would weld relationships by exploring the benefits of compassion, meditation, overcoming fears, and yes, a little welding too.
My class was quite a motley crew (see fig.1). There was Mr. Knox, as I would respectfully call him, a 72-year-old man with a thin build, graying hair, and questionable eyesight. A couple of x-military guys who were easy to pick out of a crowd as x-military guys, with just out of regulation haircuts, beards, and a slender build. That is, if you are well versed in the art of picking out military from a crowd. Then there were my traditional students, the ones who didn’t want to spend the next four years writing essays and studying for biology exams. They were usually young, ambitious, and would miss exactly as many days as was allowed, and still move on to the next semester. Man buns, and vape pens were optional. Then there were the ones that stood out like Leroy Brown, and yes, that is his real name. He was a boisterous, loud, curious, driven, sometimes obnoxious, pain in the ass who often stole the show, and hi-jacked class. I liked him immediately.
I was anxious about attempting to teach meditation and compassion to my welding students, but it was something that I had come to believe in over the years. Meditation was part of my daily routine (see fig 3). It had helped me make better decisions over the years, and I hoped that my students could benefit from this simple practice. Then there was compassion that I was learning about from my wife. I was becoming aware of this practice as well, but I was nervous about trying to incorporate it into my class. I had a good feeling about it, and I really believed that they could benefit from it.
As I was starting my class, my wife, the beautiful creature that she is, was finishing up the teacher training for CBCT, Cognitive Based Compassion Training. She had been studying at Emory University at the Center for Contemplative Science and Compassion Ethics. She could tell you about it better than me, but it is a class based on learning how to consciously choose to practice compassion. This secular meditation is grounded by, and inspired by, the Tibetan Buddhist tradition called lojong, a mind training. It is backed by numerous scientific studies on the many benefits of this practice for wellness and mental resilience. It was quite an involved course of study, one that I would learn about from hearing my wife recant tales of her experiences. We would have deep discussions about who might accept and benefit from these practices, or who might think of it as mumbo-jumbo, ignoring the science? I also wondered if I could overcome my fears and present these ideas? Will I be ridiculed? These are certainly things that ran through my mind at the beginning of this endeavor. I wondered how my students might respond to these meditation mind trainings.
“Meditation is a big part of welding.” I mustered up the courage to say. OK, take a deep breath, I am going to do this thing. You see, it had taken a measure of moxie, is that the right word?, to introduce, then actually lead, this Eastern inspired meditation practice. This is, after all, a welding shop full of eight-thousand-degree metal, flying sparks, bright lights, booms, bangs, crashes, smoke, body sweat, and a faint scent of reefer lingering in the air. This is welding bitches! So, I think I will ease into the compassion aspects of this experiment. This is supposed to be a tough bunch of men, and women. We eat sparks for breakfast. Ain’t got no time for meditation. Compassion, forget about it!
I take a deep breath. “Meditation is a big part of welding.” Ok, raised eyebrows. “We will spend a lot of time in the dark concentrating on a small puddle of molten steel. That’s why welders are all a bit off their rockers.” Not sure how this was going, I take another deep breath and a moment to remember how much this practice has helped me. Ok, carry on.
But I was still nervous. We sat with our backs straight, palms down, then taking a deep breath, we filled our bellies with air, then release, let it all go… be here, be present. Let the outside world be outside. Breathe a deep breath in through your nose. So here is this rough and tumble class sitting quietly in this classroom, a classroom that might pass for a classroom elsewhere except for the burn marks in the tables, and the constant layer of fresh grinding dust along with the typical green paint and dry-erase board. The only real out-of-place thing seemed to be the meditation, at least that’s how it felt. Next door were a few other classrooms. One had just let out, and the students were passing by. Leather burning jackets, and welding hoods streamed past the glass cut-out in our door. We could hear the comments, “What the hell are they doing in there?” along with some other statements that might make a truckdriver blush. I got a kind of pit in my stomach, but just grinned, took another deep conscious breath, and continued the meditation. Fear be damned, we are doing this thing! I believed in these practices, and after all, meditation really is a big part of welding. There! A moment of self-compassion inspired by a breath and the realization that doing this for the first time IS challenging and it’s ok to be nervous- I’m only human! And my first welding class meditation would go ok.
After a couple of weeks, my students would remind me or ask, “Are we are having meditation today?” If I had not led a meditation for a while, they would notice. This surprised me at first, but then a morning meditation just became part of our daily routine. There was, of course, one guy who claimed to not care for it, and would opt to play on his phone for the 3 minutes of time assigned to this optional practice. Later even he would change his mind, but for now, they seemed to at least put up with it. Other students would tell me about how it helped with a frustrating welding process, or how it helped them wake up in the morning. Then there was Leroy who would take to, and benefit from these philosophies more than any, and help me to prove to myself that this practice is worth trying to teach. With practice, this breath can lead us to conscious compassion for ourselves and to others. And I, too, had to remember to use this breath as a tool to overcome my own fears, to shift my perspective and be compassionate to myself.
Leroy was a tough, I want to say, kid, but then I called all my student’s kids whether they were 72 years old with bad eyesight or missing 18-year-olds. Leroy was having some trouble adjusting to life. He had just served a lengthy prison sentence for I am not exactly sure what. The important thing is, he was here now. He was making a solid effort to do good, but sometimes life shows up. He would start missing class. I would talk to and encourage him as much as I could. I would say, “Remember to meditate, take a deep breath, even if it’s only for a few seconds.” When he would tell me about bad decisions he was about to make, I would try to remind him of what is important, things like family and career. He was loosely on the right track. And he was especially interested in learning about meditation, it just was not something that had crossed his path. He was really into it, and this helped to forge a real friendship between us. A relationship that would come to teach me about the power of compassion.
When Leroy first came to class, I wasn’t sure if he was going to make it or not. He was a bit of a mess. He reeked of marijuana, and I would have to ask him to keep his backpack outside. He was so loud and walked with a swagger. He was a tough street kid from Homestead, and you could tell, yet there was this boyish curiosity, and desire to learn that rested inside of him and made him stand out. He tried, and it showed.
My welders were beginning to enjoy their meditations, which organically melded into some compassion training, but I was getting a little push back. My colleagues and some of the other classes were not exactly accepting of the idea. They would roll their eyes or ask, “You want to teach what?” like the complexity of my statement caused their ears to temporarily malfunction. Guess I will have to keep this under the radar, I thought. Although as the semester went on, I would teach meditation in many aspects of my class. I would ask my students, “What is the first thing you do before you start welding?” “Take a deep breath Mr. B.” they would respond. It seemed to be working. I liked watching them learn, even with the occasional disapproving glances from my colleagues, or giggles from students that I have not yet taught. I tried to not let silly comments bother me.
Class and time rolled on. The first term was about two thirds complete. My kids were learning the fundamentals of meditation, compassion, and even a little welding. But sometimes life shows up.
Life showed up for Leroy in the form of a homicide. I had heard about it on the local news: A violent drive by shooting in Homestead. Leroy would tell me all about it the next day because of course, he knew them all. It was his nephew that had gotten killed.
“I was all strapped up and ready to ride Mr. B, then I thought about you and our meditation, so I tried it.” Pause. He explained it all so vividly I could see the whole thing playing out in my mind’s eye like a gangster movie. Here is Leroy, about to go shoot up the south side and he has Mr. B on his mind. And he takes a breath. That made me feel good because he was standing in front me, not dead or in prison.
Then Leroy told me how he started teaching meditation and the choice to be compassionate with his family. He told me about how they had utilized these new skills choosing compassion over retaliation and violence. Choosing a deep breath over a rash action. He saw the power and usefulness of this simple tool, allowing himself to step back and choose compassion over violence. To not make a rash decision that surely would have ended badly. I was proud of him. He was going to be ok.
Proof that compassion was welding also came when I was starting to see some real progress in class. My tough bunch of welders were teaching me by example that anyone can benefit from a bit more compassion in life. I had started talking more about compassion in class. I would sneak it in here and there, like when one of my kids, a young naïve freshman who was raised not only Catholic, but on a farm, was receiving a roasting about said farm and faith. I would intervene and talk a little bit about compassion and feeling good about yourselves. Feeling good about yourself, as in practicing self-compassion, not through words or actions at the expense of others. I would go on to explain that compassion for others starts with compassion for self. For the most part, they blew me off, but after some repetition it seemed to start to stick. The giggles and teasing had started to lessen, especially when I started teaching them how to listen to the symphony of noise around them, and to be aware. You can tell a lot about what’s going inside of a welding shop by the noise, listening to it can help to keep you and those around you calm, and safe.
I would also watch them wrestle with a new welding technique and see them take a breath to stay grounded and bolster their determination to figure it out. To figure it out without getting weighed down by that negative feedback that can play like a recording in your mind. Didn’t always work, it does take practice to practice compassion, especially self-compassion but even small steps make a difference.
Leroy didn’t graduate that year, but I do still see him on Facebook from time to time, with that big fat head grinning from ear to ear while boasting about some new welding job or his wedding. You see an associate degree in welding wasn’t what was important. What was important In Leroy’s case was taking a step back and taking a breath, a breath that allowed him to choose compassion and the awareness to not impulsively react. That choice may very well have led to the start of a better life for Leroy.
What was being shown to me by both Leroy and my students, reinforced my belief that practicing compassion was important. It was also a source of encouragement for me, giving me the courage and self-compassion to continue teaching this practice to my welders, even when people raised their eyebrows; to practice compassion with my colleagues who razzed me about teaching such a thing; to step back and shift my perspective and realize that their skepticism had nothing to do with me personally, but actually with this new idea that seemed so out of sync with welding.
Welding means to join together. What better way to come together than for us all to step back and take that one deep breath. One Breath, after all, can change the course of a lifetime. There is power in that breath. Once a conscious breath is considered, it can immediately put one outside of oneself. Taking that breath is a pause, it can be enough to give one a different perspective, to step back and see yourself, or a charged situation from a different viewpoint. You see, this meditation isn’t about trying to clear the mind, it’s more about being conscious of our thoughts and our emotions and not getting entangled in them. Being aware of our thoughts and emotions can lead to better relationships all around. Perhaps this compassion is the relationship we forge first with ourselves, welding true and deep connections with others in the process. After all, there is power in that single breath, should we choose to take it. Like the way I took a breath to help settle my nerves and doubt, or the way Leroy took a breath to keep himself calm or the way my students would take a breath before they tackle a challenge. I believe that awareness of the power of one breath can help change the course of our lives and enables us to weld compassion with not only ourselves but with those around us.
