Metta (loving-kindness) meditation is a major practice of the Theravadin tradition of Buddhism that I practice. Interestingly, I find most meditators prefer to focus on a strict vipassana (insight) practice, rather than the more heart-based practices of what the Buddha called the “4 Divine Adobes”, or brahmaviharas.
Why is this? I don’t know. But I suspect that many of us got into meditation to fix something in our lives—that is, to try to escape our suffering in a more positive way than drinking, drug use, etc. I know I did. If it wasn’t for martial arts, Buddhism and meditation, I very much doubt I would be here today. Like many of the kids I hung out with, I likely would have ended up trapped in addiction to drugs or alcohol or in jail, or dead.
To be completely honest, the latter is the most likely scenario. As my meditation practice has deepened, as my mind and heart have opened, I can see clearly the urge for self-destruction that drove me to live my life looking for a fight. Fighting was my favorite thing in the world—the only place I felt perfectly at home was in the adrenaline dump of a good brawl. I had so much hate and anger boiling up inside of me that I needed to let it out somehow—and that was the only way I knew.
How no one stabbed, shot, or simply beat my dumb ass to death during those times is still something that amazes me. We are so fragile; all it would have taken is a bad fall on concrete to end my life, or someone else’s. Thank God, or whatever is out there, that none of that ever happened.
I think it’s that awareness of my past motivations that brought me to metta practice. I knew that I needed to find a way to deal with those old angers, the old wounds, the resentments, judgements and grudges that still drove me in so many ways. And I knew that my insight practice wasn’t cutting it, nor was doing Muay Thai or any other martial art. They helped relieve the symptoms—the day to day frustrations, lack of awareness, etc—but the root was something that went much deeper.
Metta practice allowed me to see clearly for the first time in my life that I was worthy of being loved. That I wasn’t someone who was inherently bad or undeserving. That I didn’t need to walk around with this weight on my chest. I could open myself to myself—and by doing so, to others.
Initially, it was very difficult to sit and repeat the phrases:
“May I be filled with loving-kindess
May I be peaceful and at ease
May I be well
May I be happy”
My mind kept on intruding and asking me who I thought I was fooling. Weren’t other people more deserving? Why was I wasting my time on this ridiculous, useless practice?
Yeah, my mind is kind of an asshole. But maybe you recognize those thoughts. They are very common especially when you being to practice metta. Hell, they’re some of the first thoughts that came up for me when I started vipassana practice.
I have an idea why:
Our society still has a deep, unconscious remnant of the idea of Original Sin—that we are all inherently bad. On top of that we pile the habitual separation of body and mind, and the shackles of a warped version of the Protestant work ethic—one where nothing is ever good enough and our worth is measured only by our work and wealth. And the cherry on top is our modern need to consume, to define ourselves by what we own. Like the bumper sticker says “He who dies with the most toys wins”.
And all of this—even if we consciously reject it—still works on our subconscious mind and our hearts. Especially the deep cultural programming of the Judeo-Christian idea of Original Sin. That simply doesn’t exist in many other cultures.
For instance, when the Dalai Lama was asked by an American psychologist whether or not meditation could help his patients deal with their self-hatred, he was dumbfounded. The DL went back and forth with his translator for a good ten minutes, and then finally asked the psychologist to explain what he meant. When he did, the Dalai Lama replied (more of less) “We don’t understand. The Tibetan language doesn’t have a way to describe what you’re talking about.”
Think about that. They have no concept whatsoever regarding the self-hatred and self-judgment that is so common in Western societies. It doesn’t exist for them.
But we do and I think a major part of our meditation practice—if not the vast majority—should focus first on uprooting these deeply-held and very damaging beliefs. This is also the view one of Jack Kornfield—in his book “A Path With Heart” he prescribes metta practice first, before all others—even vipassana.
So give it a try. At first, just focus on yourself. Later, you can expand the practice to include loved ones ,enemies and even the whole world—but it all starts inside. After a good year or so of metta practice I still work primarily on myself, although I do include others towards the end of the meditation session.
Metta has made a dramatic difference in my quality of life—moreso than anything else, although the compassion , sympathetic joy, and gratitude/forgiveness practices come close. I hope it does the same for you.
Here are the basic instructions, as well as a copy of the text of the Metta Sutta. I like to read the sutta aloud or to myself at the beginning and end of a sitting—I find it sets the mood and centers me a bit. I am not a meditation teacher, however, and I strongly suggest you read Salzberg’s “Loving-Kindess” as well as Kornfield’s “A Path With Heart” for more information.
How to Practice Metta (Loving Kindness) Meditaiton:
Find a comfortable place to sit. Relax your body and become aware of bodily sensations—the touch points (where your body makes contact with the floor,cushion or chair), your breath, or sounds. Relax and soften your belly.
After a few minutes of this, you can start the metta practice by repeating the phrases:
May I be filled with loving-kindess
May I be peaceful and at ease
May I be well
May I be happy
Repeat the phrases mindfully—really get behind them emotionally. Picture yourself as a beloved child or being held in the arms of a being of pure compassion—Kuan Yin,Buddha, Christ, Gandhi, Mary, whoever or whatever makes you feel unconditionally loved.
Pay attention to the resistance you may have. Don’t push it away or judge it or judge yourself for having those thoughts of “not good enough”. They are complete normal. It’s what the mind does and it’s nothing to personalize. Just note it and go back to repeating your phrases with real feeling.
You may noticed bodily sensations: warmth in your heart, a tightness in the belly or throat, or even full-body waves of energy. I’ve actually felt energy move up through my chakras—although I didn’t know where they were at the time.
Don’t resist these sensations, but don’t cling to them either. They are positive and pleasurable, but if you start focusing on them you can create a craving for them. Just accept them for what they are, enjoy them and let them go when they want to go.
After 10 to 15 minutes, stop the metta practice and spend a few minutes just sitting and watching your mind. Notice how much calmer it is, and note the sensations –good and bad--that metta practice created for you. Open your eyes.
As a side note, metta practice can also be done walking, standing or lying down—I like to do a few run throughs right before I fall asleep at night.
A Translation of the Metta Sutta:
“May I be happy. May I preserve my happiness and live without enmity. May all beings be happy. May they be of joyful mind, all beings that have life, be they feeble or strong, be they minute or vast, visible or invisible, near or afar, born or are to be born, let all beings be joyful.
Let no one deceive another, let none be harsh in speech, let none by anger or hatred wish ill to his or her neighbor. Even as a parent, at the risk of their life, watches over and protects her only child, so with a boundless heart of compassion I cherish all living beings, suffusing love over the entire world, above and all around limit; thus I cultivate an infinite goodwill toward the whole world.
Standing or walking, sitting or lying down, during all my waking hours, I cherish the thought that this way of loving is the noblest in the world.
Thus shall I, by abandoning vain discussions and controversies and by walking a wise path, be endowed with insight, let go of attachment to sense desires, and know the deathless. May this also be the cause for all other sentient beings to be fulfilled in the conditions leading to their realization of liberation. May all sentient beings escape the dangers of old age, disease, and death. May all beings be liberated.”
There are many other versions, but I like this one the best. To see some of the others and to learn more about metta (loving-kindness) meditation practice, you can go to http://www.accesstoinsight.org/cgi/search/search.pl?Terms=metta
For books, the best one I’ve read—and really the one that kick-started the widespread practice of metta in the U.S.—is Sharon Salzberg’s “Loving Kindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness”. You can pick up a copy at Amazon.com.
I hope you find this post helpful and that it benefits you and all beings in all directions.
May you be filled with loving-kindness
May you be peaceful and at ease
May you be well.
May you be happy.
May you be liberated.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Second Thoughts
Lately the Year to Live practice has felt like a burden. I have been struggling with so much resistance--to sitting, in particular. Especially the "Life Review" part of the practice.
The Life Review is just what it sounds like--you sit, calm your mind, and allow events from your past to arise and pass away. You try to let go of all the bad stuff, express gratitude where appropriate, and ask for forgiveness if needed.
In the book, Levine says to stay away from the heavy stuff, the negative experiences, when you begin the practice. And this is where I get stuck. Most of my life has been crazy, especially up to about age 21-22 when I got into martial arts and started meditating a bit.
I was very different then. Violent, for one thing. Against myself, in the form of drug and alcohol abuse. Against others, both physically and emotionally. At one point in my life my favorite thing to do was get into a good brawl. I would get drunk and just go looking for fights. How I didn't get shot or stabbed is beyond me.
I had so much rage and hate boiling up inside of me that it was all I could do to keep myself under control. Sometimes that effort alone was exhausting.
So there's lots of bad stuff there. Lots of painful memories, going all the way back to when I was a really little kid. I don't have that many happy childhood memories. I mean, I have them, but they are far outnumbered by ones dominated by feelings of fear, regret, and anger.
I remember more good things now. But to get to the good things I've had to go through the pages of my old books, reading all the old stories of pride, abandonement, rage, and fear. And as I read them, reliving them vividly. Feeling the waves of emotion that only a 6 year old can feel--utterly consuming, overwhelmingly intense. Letting them pass through me, finally, and trying to come to some sort of resolution. Trying to forgive and let go.
So I guess it should be obvious why I've been resisting practice. It's hard. It's tiring. I don't feel like too many people understand what it's like. I think most of my friends and loved ones find the Year to Live practice interesting; some of them even find it amirable. But it seems like it's one of those things you need to do in order to really understand.
It's intense. When I am fully in it, fully aware of Death on my left shoulder, everything in life is so precious--even the painful parts. In some cases, especially the painful parts--because it's through those experiences that we can gain the most wisdom. And those "bad" experiences have their own beauty; they're real, they're raw, and they're totally human. They are life, in all it's ugly glory.
And that's not to say that I don't think there aren't benefits to the more pleasant experiences I've had. I've had feelings of compassion, forgiveness, and gratitude so intense during a sit that I can feel them--feel them arise from the thoughts, crest as they move through my heart, and then settle deep in my lower belly. Sometimes they start from the other direction--running up through the lower chakras through the top of my head.
But I try not to cling to either of them. And yet, I find myself clinging to the negative, the painful, the things that create suffering. I suspect that's a sign of some unfinished business, some old (and new) loose ends that need to be tied up.
and there are lot of them. I made a list of all the people I feel like I need to make amends to, or that I have some unfinished business with. It's long. In some cases--ok, in ALL of the cases--apologizing and asking for forgiveness is going to take a lot. My ego definately does NOT want to come along for the ride. There are lots of thoughts about "Ah, let it go, it's not a big deal, they probably are OK with it..."
And maybe the people I need to talk with are "Ok with it". But I don't think I am. I have some attachments to those past events. And I committed myself to this practice. I have 7 months and 3 weeks to let go of all of them.
What's really funny is that I get kind of upset when I think of January 2, 2010. Intellectually I know it's not my real death (well, hopefully not) but it still creates a little wave of fear and grief. If I dwell on it, those feelings get very intense. And at the same time--I am totally aware that it's only a mental construct. But...I can't see past 1/2/2010. It's just a blank, an endless black void.
I like it that way. I've always believed that the best way to use an opporunity is to burn your bridges behind you. Not in the sense that we usually use that term--but in the sense of taking away the "outs" we like to leave for ourselves...just in case. Not having a vision of life beyond the next 7 months and 3 weeks forces me to "be here now". There's nothing else, no second chances, no mulligans.
And the truth is, that's our life. All of us, every single person reading this, will die. Sooner or later--and I hope that for all of you it's later. But as far as I know there aren't any do-overs. Once this moment is gone...it's gone. And we can very easily go through our whole life like that. Half-asleep and stumbling through the wilderness, grasping and clinging to anything that we think will show us the path out of the woods.
Wow, depressing. Yeesh. See what I mean?
But in all seriousness...I'd like to challenge everyone who reads this (and there's a surprising number of you--very good for my ego) to spend one day, just one day, living like it was your last. Your last chance to have that conversation with your mom. Your last chance to call up the lover you hurt so many years ago and say "I'm sorry". Your last chance to go to the park with your kids--and really be there with them, not on the phone or chatting with other parents.
Go for it.
The Life Review is just what it sounds like--you sit, calm your mind, and allow events from your past to arise and pass away. You try to let go of all the bad stuff, express gratitude where appropriate, and ask for forgiveness if needed.
In the book, Levine says to stay away from the heavy stuff, the negative experiences, when you begin the practice. And this is where I get stuck. Most of my life has been crazy, especially up to about age 21-22 when I got into martial arts and started meditating a bit.
I was very different then. Violent, for one thing. Against myself, in the form of drug and alcohol abuse. Against others, both physically and emotionally. At one point in my life my favorite thing to do was get into a good brawl. I would get drunk and just go looking for fights. How I didn't get shot or stabbed is beyond me.
I had so much rage and hate boiling up inside of me that it was all I could do to keep myself under control. Sometimes that effort alone was exhausting.
So there's lots of bad stuff there. Lots of painful memories, going all the way back to when I was a really little kid. I don't have that many happy childhood memories. I mean, I have them, but they are far outnumbered by ones dominated by feelings of fear, regret, and anger.
I remember more good things now. But to get to the good things I've had to go through the pages of my old books, reading all the old stories of pride, abandonement, rage, and fear. And as I read them, reliving them vividly. Feeling the waves of emotion that only a 6 year old can feel--utterly consuming, overwhelmingly intense. Letting them pass through me, finally, and trying to come to some sort of resolution. Trying to forgive and let go.
So I guess it should be obvious why I've been resisting practice. It's hard. It's tiring. I don't feel like too many people understand what it's like. I think most of my friends and loved ones find the Year to Live practice interesting; some of them even find it amirable. But it seems like it's one of those things you need to do in order to really understand.
It's intense. When I am fully in it, fully aware of Death on my left shoulder, everything in life is so precious--even the painful parts. In some cases, especially the painful parts--because it's through those experiences that we can gain the most wisdom. And those "bad" experiences have their own beauty; they're real, they're raw, and they're totally human. They are life, in all it's ugly glory.
And that's not to say that I don't think there aren't benefits to the more pleasant experiences I've had. I've had feelings of compassion, forgiveness, and gratitude so intense during a sit that I can feel them--feel them arise from the thoughts, crest as they move through my heart, and then settle deep in my lower belly. Sometimes they start from the other direction--running up through the lower chakras through the top of my head.
But I try not to cling to either of them. And yet, I find myself clinging to the negative, the painful, the things that create suffering. I suspect that's a sign of some unfinished business, some old (and new) loose ends that need to be tied up.
and there are lot of them. I made a list of all the people I feel like I need to make amends to, or that I have some unfinished business with. It's long. In some cases--ok, in ALL of the cases--apologizing and asking for forgiveness is going to take a lot. My ego definately does NOT want to come along for the ride. There are lots of thoughts about "Ah, let it go, it's not a big deal, they probably are OK with it..."
And maybe the people I need to talk with are "Ok with it". But I don't think I am. I have some attachments to those past events. And I committed myself to this practice. I have 7 months and 3 weeks to let go of all of them.
What's really funny is that I get kind of upset when I think of January 2, 2010. Intellectually I know it's not my real death (well, hopefully not) but it still creates a little wave of fear and grief. If I dwell on it, those feelings get very intense. And at the same time--I am totally aware that it's only a mental construct. But...I can't see past 1/2/2010. It's just a blank, an endless black void.
I like it that way. I've always believed that the best way to use an opporunity is to burn your bridges behind you. Not in the sense that we usually use that term--but in the sense of taking away the "outs" we like to leave for ourselves...just in case. Not having a vision of life beyond the next 7 months and 3 weeks forces me to "be here now". There's nothing else, no second chances, no mulligans.
And the truth is, that's our life. All of us, every single person reading this, will die. Sooner or later--and I hope that for all of you it's later. But as far as I know there aren't any do-overs. Once this moment is gone...it's gone. And we can very easily go through our whole life like that. Half-asleep and stumbling through the wilderness, grasping and clinging to anything that we think will show us the path out of the woods.
Wow, depressing. Yeesh. See what I mean?
But in all seriousness...I'd like to challenge everyone who reads this (and there's a surprising number of you--very good for my ego) to spend one day, just one day, living like it was your last. Your last chance to have that conversation with your mom. Your last chance to call up the lover you hurt so many years ago and say "I'm sorry". Your last chance to go to the park with your kids--and really be there with them, not on the phone or chatting with other parents.
Go for it.
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