The Brahmaviharas: Loving-Kindness

The idea of cultivating loving-kindness through meditation is one of the ideas that people generally like. Despite its positive connotations, however, it may be useful to consider the darker side that it combats.

The original Pali word metta can be translated into English in many ways, such as loving-kindness, friendliness, good will, benevolence, fellowship, amity, inoffensiveness, and non-violence. It is a wish for the welfare and happiness of others, without the self-interest that is often subtly underneath our friendly behaviors.

As ideal as this sounds, Buddhist practices are not meant to be theoretical - they are meant to be practical. They are designed to achieve specific goals. The Brahmavihara practices are designed to help us alleviate our suffering, which coincidentally alleviates others' suffering. Metta practice is designed (in part) as an antidote to anger. Why, however, should we care about lessening anger? Culturally, we're told that anger is good (at least for men) - it makes us strong.

The Buddha stated that when you are angry, there are seven things that are gratifying and helpful to your enemy.  The seven, in abbreviated form, are:

1. An enemy wishes for his enemy, Let him be ugly.  Anger makes us ugly.
2. An enemy also wishes, Let him lie in pain.  No enemy relishes your lying in comfort.
3. An enemy wishes, Let him have no prosperity.  When you are ruled by and prey to anger, you mistake good for bad and bad for good.  Thus, mistakes are made that harm you.
4. An enemy wishes, Let him not be rich.  When angry, though you may have built up riches by the strength of your arm, earned by sweat, lawfully gained, yet the king’s treasure gains through fines due to your being prey to anger.
5. An enemy wishes, Let him not be famous.  Yet, when ruled by anger, what fame you may have acquired by diligence is lost through being prey to anger.
6. An enemy wishes, Let him have no friends.  When ruled by anger, the friends you do have, companions, and even relatives will keep away  from (or even be harmed by) your anger
7. An enemy wishes, Let him suffer death and hell afterwards.  When angry, prey to anger, ruled by anger, a person misconducts himself in body, speech, and mind, and by this misconduct, reappears in a state of deprivation, in a bad destination, in perdition, even in hell, through his being prey to anger.

For more details, read The Practice of Loving Kindness  

The underlying psychology behind the Brahmavihara practices are that if we can change our minds, then we can have more peace both for ourselves and for others. Metta is the antidote for anger, annoyance, and hatred. The Buddha himself listed 11 benefits of cultivating metta:

"Monks, for one whose awareness-release through good will is cultivated, developed, pursued, handed the reins and taken as a basis, given a grounding, steadied, consolidated, and well-undertaken, eleven benefits can be expected. Which eleven?

"One sleeps easily, wakes easily, dreams no evil dreams. One is dear to human beings, dear to non-human beings. The devas protect one. Neither fire, poison, nor weapons can touch one. One's mind gains concentration quickly. One's complexion is bright. One dies unconfused and — if penetrating no higher — is headed for the Brahma worlds."

 It is worth examining the sutra where the Buddha taught metta practice in some detail. There is, of course, a mythological story that goes along with it (adapted from here):

500 monks received individual instructions from the Buddha, and went to the Himalayan foothills to spend a four-month rainy season retreat living in intensive meditation.  According to the commentary by Buddhaghosa, it “appeared like a glittering blue quartz crystal: it was embellished with a cool, dense, green forest grove and a stretch of ground strewn with sand, resembling a pearl net or a silver sheet, and was furnished with a clean spring of cool water.”  The monks were captivated.  There were also some towns and markets nearby, where they could beg for alms. 

The residents apparently were pleased the monks were here, and offered to build each a hut near the grove so that they could spend their days under the ancient boughs of the majestic trees.  After settling down contentedly into these huts, each monk selected a tree to meditate under by day and night.  It was said that these great trees were inhabited by tree-deities who had celestial mansions with the trees as the base.  The deities did not like to remain above them, so stayed away, assuming the monks wouldn’t stay long.  But after several days, the deities decided to try to scare the monks away by showing them terrifying visions, making dreadful noises, and creating a sickening stench.  The monks soon could no longer concentrate on their meditations.  So they traveled back to the Buddha to ask what should be done. 

He recited the Karaniya Metta Sutta, which they learned by rote in his presence.  Then they went back, meditating on the underlying meaning, and projecting metta toward the wrathful deities.  As they returned, the hearts of the deities became so charged with warm feelings of good will that they invited the monks to occupy the bases of the trees, and helped to maintain them for their retreat. 

The practice of metta is therefore not simply to change our hearts, but it also has the power to change those of others.  It is sometimes likened to cultivating a great tree, that starts as a small seed, but makes it grow into a useful, generous, and noble tree, heavily laden with luscious fruits sending their sweet odor far and wide, attracting others to enjoy it.  These three aspects are included in the Karaniya Metta Sutta (sprouting of seed and growth are verses 1-6, fruition are verses 8-10).

Many Buddhist practices, including the metta practice, are designed to liberate us from suffering through two primary processes: Renunciation and Cultivation.

The Pali commentaries explain:

One loves all beings:  (a) by the non-harassment of all beings and thus avoids harassment;
(b) by being inoffensive (to all beings) and thus avoids offensiveness;  (c) by not torturing (all beings) and thus avoids torturing;  (d) by the non-destruction (of all life) and thus avoids destructiveness;  (e) by being non-vexing (to all beings) and thus avoids vexing;  (f) by projecting the thought, "May all beings be friendly and not hostile";  (g) by projecting the thought," May all beings be happy and not suffer";  (h) by projecting the thought, "May all beings enjoy well-being and not be distressed."In these eight ways one loves all beings; therefore, it is called universal love. And since one conceives (within) this quality (of love), it is of the mind. And since this mind is free from all thoughts of ill-will, the aggregate of love, mind and freedom is defined as universal love leading to freedom of mind.

From the passage above, it can be seen that metta implies both the "outgrowing" of negative traits - renunciation of offensive actions toward others (a through e above) - and the cultivation of positive traits (f through h above).

The traditional approach is to meditate on several phrases in seven phases.  The phrases are "May I be safe. May I have happiness and the causes of happiness. May I be healthy. May I live with ease." There are other phrases that can be used, and you should use the ones that feel best to you.  The seven phases are to start with offering these feelings to your self, then to a loved one, then to friends, then to a neutral person, then a disliked person, then all of the above as a group, and then all beings in all directions.

A few clarifications may be useful. 

Metta is not the same as love, which in Pali is pema.  Metta is instead related to mitta, or friend.  It is universal friendliness to all.  It is good will to all, but it doesn’t mean you become a door mat, sublimating your needs to those of others.

In the Cunda Kammaraputta Sutta, Buddha says the following phrase can be used: 'May these beings be free from animosity, free from oppression, free from trouble, and may they look after themselves with ease!' 

Note the last part, that they look after themselves with ease.  You are not saying you will do it for them.  You are not saying you will have to be there all the time, or be responsible for their happiness.  This is why it’s important to pair metta with equanimity.  It’s too easy to become overwhelmed if we believe that by changing our habits of mind and behavior to be more loving that we accept responsibility for others’ happiness.  As Thanissaro Bhikkhu says, actually, “most beings would be happier knowing that they could depend on themselves rather than having to depend on you.”

For people to be happy, we need to understand the causes of happiness and then act upon them.  If it harms someone, then it won’t lead to true happiness.

Regarding the mother-child part of the Metta Sutta, it’s often misunderstood to mean that we should be willing to give our lives for others.  But this is incorrect.  Buddha is saying that just as the mother works hard with dogged effort to protect her child, so should we work with just as much clarity to protect our good will, our metta. 

Good will is an attitude you can express for everyone without being hypocritical.  It recognizes that people will become truly happy not as a result of your caring for them, but as a result of their own skillful actions, and that the happiness of self-reliance is greater than any happiness that comes from dependency.

Furthermore, it’s more skillful than trying to be loving.  Not everyone is ready or wants your love.  It could actually make things worse to try to be loving toward everyone.  My ex doesn’t want me expressing my love for her.  But she’s totally content when I wish that she find her own happiness.

It’s difficult to generate metta toward a disliked person, and I’m not sure you should try for very long (at least not when just beginning this practice). It's better to pick someone who is only somewhat difficult, rather than the most difficult person in your life. If it's difficult to wish him/her happiness, it may help to start with somewhat different phrases, such as: May I have no hostility toward him/her, may he/she also not have any hostility toward me.  May he/she have happiness and the causes of happiness.

The Brahmaviharas: Equanimity

Meditation sometimes gets discussed as if it can fix everything.  One reason this is inappropriate is because each meditation technique focuses on specific goals.  If we desire full enlightenment (which I define as being able to live in one's life fully), most of us need to use multiple techniques.  As described previously, Mindfulness Meditation focuses primarily on familiarizing ourselves with our minds.  Once we've achieved some measure of stability, tranquility, and clarity through Mindfulness Meditation, we can be more effective using meditation techniques that focus on cultivating some positive aspects of ourselves.  In this post, we begin discussing Brahmaviharas, or the Four Heavenly Abodes, the Four Immeasurables, or any of about a dozen other translations into English, all of which basically mean that these are four qualities that help us live with a sense of peace, well-being, and joy.

These are four qualities we already have, at least some of the time.  The goal is to cultivate them through a number of meditation practices, and they help to change our habitual reactions to be more open and caring, as well as providing antidotes to difficult emotions.  Specifically, the four are:

• Metta: Loving-kindness - the antidote for selfishness, anger, fear, and negativity.
• Karuna: Compassion - the antidote for frustration and hatred.
• Mudita: Empathetic joy - the antidote for envy, jealousy, and resentment.
• Upeksha: Equanimity - the antidote for both clinging attachment and aversion.

Traditionally these are taught in approximately this order, but I like to start with equanimity, because (1) it is the hardest, and (2) it is necessary for the other three.

By Equanimity, I mean the sense of freedom and balance when we're not reacting to things and wishing they were different.  There are several common questions and misunderstandings about it, however, that should be addressed:

1. Is this the same as being resigned or indifferent?  There is real social injustice in the world, and I don't feel like I should just accept that.
• No, it is not resigning yourself or withdrawing.  There is indeed real injustice, and equanimity means first accepting that it exists.  Then the goal is to be alert for it, being mindful.  This will allow you to see when there is an opportunity to take some action to help.  But once you've taken the action you can do at the moment, then you have to let go of needing a particular outcome.  If you hold on too tightly to your desire for one outcome, then you'll likely miss the next opportunity to take action.
2. Once I achieve equanimity, does that mean that everything is smooth and easy?
• Bad news - No it doesn't.  We'll still have troubles and traumas in our lives.The difference is that we can be fully engaged with them, being completely alive, rather than trying not to experience what we're really experiencing.  This ironically allows us to not be overwhelmed by them.
3. What about when people do harmful things to me?  How can I have equanimity about that?
• A common misunderstanding of equanimity is that it means that we're supposed to adopt an attitude that "It's all good."  No, it bloody well is not!  People do terrible things sometimes.  Evil actions happen.  It is definitely not all good.  When someone is harmful to you, equanimity means that you get angry, you feel your hurt, and then you take some action to try to help the situation.  That might mean you get away from that person.  It means you don't spend your time blaming the perpetrator, nor do you blame yourself.  You understand that bad things happen all the time to all people, and that you can use this opportunity to connect with the pain that all beings feel.  But don't just keep being a doormat. As Thanissaro Bhikku notes, "There's a passage in which the Buddha taught the monks a chant for spreading goodwill to all snakes and other things....Strikingly, the chant concludes with the sentence, 'May the beings depart.'  This reflects the truth that living together is often difficult.

We usually get too caught up in our stories about things, or by wanting to control things, or by wanting only one specific outcome, that we fail to realize that things are really ok most of the time, even when we’re not getting what we want. 

Pema Chodron relates the story about the Zen master who, whenever asked by his students how he was, would respond, “I’m okay.”  Finally one student said, “Roshi, how can you always be okay?  Don’t you ever have a bad day?”  The Zen master answered, “Sure I do.  On bad days, I’m okay.  On good days, I’m also okay.”  We usually get so caught by the detail of whatever specific good feeling or bad feeling that we miss this broader truth that we’re actually basically okay right now.

There’s a Pali term, papañca, that means complication, proliferation, objectification (See the Madhupindika Sutta for details).  It is the tendency of the mind to proliferate thought after thought, to spin out the story.  This takes away our equanimity.  What should we do instead? In the moment that we notice that we’re caught, we can start by naming what’s going on.  Then after loosening the hold the thoughts have on us by recognizing them as thoughts, notice how it feels in the body.  This sounds simple, but what often happens when we try?  We get pulled away by papanca, because we are stuck in the trance of wanting to control experiences rather than just feeling them.  We feel that thinking about something gives us control.  We have practiced this so much that we believe it.  

One approach to helping to overcome this is a useful phrase:  Real, but not True.

You can work with this phrase both in meditation and in your daily life as soon as you start having a reaction to something.  What you are feeling is real.  The story that you are proliferating about it ("I don't deserve this! I can't believe you would say something like that! That person is a jerk!" etc...) is not True.  We have such a limited view on the world, that nothing we think about it can accurately represent what was really happening. Our perspective is real, but not true.  In meditation, you can bring to mind a difficult situation, focusing on the feeling you had, the series of thoughts you have about it, the story that you like to tell yourself about it. Focus on this until you can actually feel in your body the emotional reaction you have to it.  Then notice that the feelings you are having right now are real, but none of the story is accurate at this moment.  None of it is happening now.  The minute that we begin to create a story and make judgments, we solidify what is in reality a constantly shifting and changing set of feelings, thoughts, circumstances, causes, conditions, etc. What is happening to you now is caused by the vast set of interconnected causes and conditions, what Buddhists refer to as Dependent Arising. 

As noted in this post about how we view our "self," we have a very limited idea of what our self is.  We usually only consider voluntary actions of which we're conscious to be our selves.  Therefore, almost everything in our experience "happens to us," rather than the more accurate description that we are happening.  We don't even feel our body is ourself, that we are beating our hearts.  We see our lives as if we are rushing around, bumping into various semi-random experiences, having conflict with some of them, going along with others.  Alan Watts noted that if we looked into our bodies with a microscope, what would we see?  We would see lots of individual cells and proteins, rushing around, bumping into each other, fighting with each other, etc.  But at our normal level of perception, our body is working as a remarkably harmonious whole.  So, which level of magnification is right?

This is another way to cultivate equanimity.  Our normal level of perception of our lives is similar to that of our cells under a microscope.  We perceive our lives to be full of difficulty and conflict and stress.  At a broader level of perception, however, we're getting along remarkably harmoniously with each other and the world.

Consciousness evolved like a radar system, constantly looking out for trouble.  It therefore pays little attention to the things that are constant or that are generally going well.  We scan the environment, but only pay attention to what we think is likely to be trouble.  Constants are generally safe.  We therefore focus on the negatives, and in fact, we make so much of it that we come to identify our selves with the radar system.

But you are more than this scanning system.  You are in constantly shifting relationships with the external world that are, on the whole, extremely harmonious.  Our happiness is not dependent on things being just one certain way.  Once we cultivate this view, then we are free to be happy with all of our life.

One classical way to train in equanimity is to meditate on the phrase, "All beings are inheritors of their own karma.  Their happiness or suffering depend on their actions, not on my wishes for them" or any of several other similar phrases. Traditionally it would go through seven steps, first focusing on a neutral person, then a benefactor (someone who has helped you in the past), then a loved one, then someone with whom you have difficulty, then yourself, then all five of you together (neutral, benefactor, friend, enemy, self), then all sentient beings.

The goal of these types of practices is to learn to be able to sit in balance, being able to participate in all aspects of your life without being overwhelmed, and therefore able to take appropriate action when there is a chance. Sound like something you want? It just takes years of practice, that's all.  

What can Mindfulness Meditation do for you?

One of the arms of the Buddhist Eightfold Path is "Right View."  There are many meanings to this, but one that I find under-utilized is the idea that when we set out on the path, it is useful to have a "view" to where we are going.  It's like looking at the map before we set out.  It's also useful once you've been on the path for a while, because then you can take stock of where you've been.  In this context, I want to consider some ways of thinking about what the goals of Mindfulness Meditation are.

Broadly speaking, there are two styles of meditation practice - Familiarizing and Cultivating.  Mindfulness meditation focuses primarily on the first of these.

It is important to start the journey by familiarizing yourself with your mind and emotions.  How can you change or improve something until you understand how it works?  If my car isn't running smoothly, just wishing for it to work won't help. Buying new seat covers or putting an inspirational CD in the CD player won't make it run more smoothly.  By knowing how the car works, we can focus our efforts to the place that can actually make a difference.  Similarly, we need clarity about our circumstances and ourselves to be able to make a difference, but often when things aren't going the way we want, we get caught up in blaming and feeling that it "shouldn't be this way," and then we make a bigger mess.

Mindfulness meditation starts us on the path to understanding how our minds work.  As we gain familiarity, it also begins to cultivate three properties: Tranquility, Stability, and Clarity.

Tranquility is often one of the goals people explicitly have when they begin meditating - they want to slow the mind down and have some sense of peacefulness or stress reduction.  It is worth noting that people often also have the belief that the goal is to stop thinking.  This is not correct.  The mind will always think - that's what it does.   The goal is to not be so hooked by the thoughts.

As we slow the thoughts down, we begin to be better at focusing our attention intentionally rather than being so easily distracted by the next thought.  This increased stability is sometimes called one-pointed focus.

As we gain stability and tranquility, we also begin to gain some clarity by seeing deeper into our true natures.

The classic analogy in Buddhism is if you scoop a glass of water out of a muddy river, it is undrinkable at first. There is too much sediment floating around in it, and no amount of effort will change that. You can't get the mud to settle out by shaking it hard or trying to force it to the bottom. Instead, if you let it sit quietly, the impurities will slowly settle to the bottom of the glass, leaving the water tranquil and clear.

The goal of meditation, therefore, is not to get rid of thoughts, but instead (1) to understand how our thoughts are constantly changing, impermanent, and empty, (2) to stop believing them as if they are "true," and (3) to stop believing that your thoughts are you.  These realizations lessen the control that your thoughts have over you, and opens up the way that you can begin to change.

Another way we can think about Mindfulness Meditation is that the focus is always on being present.  But what do we mean by that?

There are at least three different aspects of "being present" in Buddhist practice.  The most basic and stereotypical is a heightened state of focus.  You can test this by staring at an object or space on the wall. You may notice as you focus on it that the rest of the room may darken, blur, or get wiggly.  This one-pointed focus is ironically equally a rejection of all other things that are also present.  You can, however, learn to focus on the target yet also notice all of the things in the periphery, noticing the full environment. Therefore, heightened focus doesn't necessarily have to just be about one object (such as the breath), although it's often beneficial to start here.

The second way of being present is noticing a heightened vividness, vibrancy, clarity, and specificity of your experience.  I notice this most clearly doing walking meditations, where I am astounded by the colors, the vividness, and the detail that exists in the world.  Each leaf and blade of grass is distinct and clear and interesting.

The third way of being present is focusing on the Karmic momentum of each moment and being present in the "gap."  Ethan Nichtern describes this as "where the past is creating a tremendous momentum of feeling and impulse, but we haven't yet figured out how we're going to react to it....it's the awkward vulnerability between impulse and action."  That is, based on all of our past conditioning and all of the present causes and provocations and emotions, we experience some feeling.  We usually react to these feelings with habitual responses, but what if we didn't?  What if we instead were present with feeling the momentum of the moment?  (This is the gap between steps 7 and 8, or between 8 and 9 of the 12 Nidanas for those of you who want to be Buddhist geeks.)

So these are three more aspects we gain from Mindfulness Meditation.

What takes our mindfulness away?  Strong emotions and habits -- the momentum of the past and all of our conditioning and the present causes.  As discussed in a previous post, we tend to react to each new stimulus with either grasping, pushing it away, or ignoring it.  These are the Three Poisons of greed, aggression, and ignorance.  Every time we act based on one of these feelings, we strengthen our habitual responses, so we can no longer see the gap between feeling and our habitual reaction to the feeling.

Once triggered, emotions have strong energy.  One technique that Buddhism teaches to help us deal with these emotions is that of antidotes.  For each of the afflictive emotions, there is a series of things one can meditate on to counter them (see here, for example). Note that the core assumption underlying this approach is one of change.  We are trying to break the powerful link of our habits.

Once we have achieved some level of tranquility, stability, and clarity, we can begin to work with our minds and our habit energies, but Mindfulness Meditation isn't really designed to change them.

We usually enter a spiritual pathway and practice in order to change something about ourselves.  We want to reduce our suffering, to find ease in the midst of turmoil, to be of more benefit to others, etc.  Yet, Mindfulness Meditation doesn't get us too far down that path, but it's the first step on the path. Other meditation techniques focus specifically on changing our habitual responses.

But there's a paradox present here.  We know that we're really just a quivering mess.  We don't want to be a quivering mess.  But to be the kind of person we wish we were, we have to stop being a quivering mess.  But since we are such a mess, we're not the kind of person we want to be.  So how can we break out of this conundrum?  The way out is to practice capacities that you already have, such as compassion, joy, and love.

This moves us into the next style of meditation technique - those that focus on cultivating rather than familiarizing.  We use these techniques to help grow something that already exists in us.  The next post will begin to examine meditation techniques on what are called the Brahma-viharas, or the four heavenly abodes.


These thoughts adapted from talks given by Ethan Nichtern and Alan Watts, among others.  Image sources: Here, here, here, and here.

How should I wrap my presence?

Many platitudes about the holidays focus on the joy of giving.  Of course, ideas become platitudes by being generally true or at least by being generally accepted as true.  As a parent, I gain a great deal of joy from watching my children receiving gifts.  Yet, there is sometimes a dark side to giving.

Part of this dark side is the norm of reciprocity.  This is defined succinctly by the clip above from the TV show, Big Bang Theory, but basically when someone gives you something, we feel a need to reciprocate.  This is a powerful social norm which can change a joyous giving into a burdensome obligation.  One of the classic studies was conducted in 1974  by Phillip Kunz.  That year, he randomly selected 600 families he didn't know and sent them Christmas cards.

To these 600 strangers, Kunz sent his Christmas greetings: handwritten notes or a card with a photo of him and his family. And then Kunz waited to see what would happen.

"It was just, you know, a shot in the dark," he says. "I didn't know what would happen."

But about five days later, responses started filtering back — slowly at first and then more, until eventually they were coming 12, 15 at a time. Eventually Kunz got more than 200 replies. "I was really surprised by how many responses there were," he says. "And I was surprised by the number of letters that were written, some of them three, four pages long." (See article describing this study in more detail here)

This is the norm of reciprocity at work, and is especially surprising when you remember that these 3-page letters he received were not typed on computers and mass-produced -- they all were handwritten in 1974.

When considering our holiday gift-giving, do we feel it as an obligation or as a joy?  If it's stressful and obligatory, then is it really giving?  The first of the Paramitas (the perfections of the heart that we are cultivating through practice) is dana, or generosity.  The Buddha said (in the Dana Sutta), that there are three conditions that should be met:

1. Before giving, the mind should be glad
2. While giving, the mind should feel inspired (bright and clear)
3. After giving, the mind should feel gratified

Can we practice these three as we shop, as we give, and as we receive?

Perhaps part of what makes the giving difficult for many of us is that the focus becomes the gift itself, which as Nancy Thompson noted in a recent post, is empty.  Another practice is to recognize that we have much more to give than stuff.  Perhaps the greatest gift we can give is our presence. 

As we join with friends and family and others with whom we often have complicated feelings, can we drop the past feelings and be present with them as they are now?  Can we drop our judgments about them while we are with them?  Can we reduce the effect of our past conditioning and respond in a fresh way?  The person in front of you is NOT the same person he or she was last year (or even yesterday).  Can we see who they are at this moment alone?  Can we listen without needing to say our "side?"  Can we understand their point of view, without deciding if it's better or worse than ours?  This is really what most people want - to be truly listened to.  Presence is a present we don't need to wrap.

Photo credits: Here and here.

Peace on Earth and Good Will (Metta) to All

As we enter the holiday season, we will hear the traditional words from Luke 2:14, in which the shepherds abiding in the fields heard the heavenly host of angels saying, "Peace on Earth, and good will to all men." Regardless of whether one comes from this Christian tradition or not, or whether you find it easier to believe in miracles such as virgin birth or that such stories were grafted on to the historical Jesus to make it more palatable for Greek culture that has a long tradition of gods, er, "collaborating" with humans, there are some remarkable aspects of this story. 

First, in the same Gospel that discusses lofty individuals such as Caesar Augustus and Governor Cyrenius, it is remarkable that the message of good will came to shepherds.  Shepherds were not considered to be of high social standing, yet this message was given directly to them, and not to more "important" people, to CNN, or to government officials who could spread it more easily.  Perhaps this demonstrates that peace is something that can only be found and supported by individuals.  I cannot grant you peace, but I can try to maintain good will toward you which may help support your attainment of peace.  It is a grass-roots message, rather than top-down.

Second, I am struck by the discussion of good will to all mankind.  This is similar to Thanissaro Bhikku's definition of metta. I quote (from this excellent article):

"Metta" is usually translated as loving-kindness, but often it is more helpful to think of it as goodwill....Goodwill is often a more skillful attitude than overt expressions of love, and for three reasons.  The first is that goodwill is an attitude you can express for everyone without fear of being hypocritical or unrealistic.  If the people around you haven't been acting lovably, it's good to remind yourself that although you don't condone your behavior --you don't even have to like them--you still wish them well.

The second reason is that goodwill is a more skillful feeling to have toward those who would react unskillfully to your love.  There are probably people you've harmed in the past who would rather not have anything to do with you ever again, so the intimacy of love would actually be a source of pain for them, rather than joy. There are also people who, when they see that you want to express love, would be quick to take advantage of it.  In these cases, a more distant sense of goodwill--that you promise yourself never to harm those people or those beings--would be better for everyone involved.

The third reason is that goodwill acts as a check on your behavior toward those you love to keep it from becoming oppressive.  It reminds you that people ultimately will become truly happy not as a result of your caring for them but as a result of their own skillful actions, and that the happiness of self-reliance is greater than any happiness coming from dependency.  If you truly feel goodwill for yourself and others, you won't let your desire for intimacy render you insensitive to what would actually be the most skillful way to promote true happiness for all.

Many of us will come together this season with friends and family members with whom we have complicated feelings.  Neither we nor they may be ready to enter into full intimate and vulnerable lovingkindness.  Cultivating good will toward all, however, may be easier on both us and them, allowing space for all the complicated feelings.

As Thanissaro Bhikku notes, "there's a passage in which the Buddha taught the monks a chant for spreading goodwill to all snakes and other things...Strikingly, the chant concludes with the sentence, 'May the beings depart.'  This reflects the truth that living together is often difficult..."  

Good will can offer the space that we may find lacking when we come back together and are confronted with old patterns and difficult feelings.  Perhaps Luke wrote them backwards: Good will to all is what can create peace on Earth.

Image sources: Here and here

The Golden Rule Makes Us Golden Fools?

There is a Chinese proverb:

Once, when a seabird landed outside the capital, the Marquis of Lu escorted it to his ancestral temple, had the music of the Ninefold Splendors performed, poured out a cup of old wine, and spread before it a feast of beef and pork.  But the bird became dazed, and it pined away, refusing to taste meat or wine.  In three days it was dead.

This was treating the bird as the marquis would have liked to be treated, not as the bird would have liked to be treated.  Had he done so, he would have let it roost in the deep forests, play among the islands, swim in the rivers and lakes, feed on mudfish and minnows, fly with the rest of the flock, and live any way it chose to. (Translation by Stephen Mitchell)

We have all been taught the "Golden Rule," that we should do unto others as we would have done unto us.  This is a valuable basic teaching when we are immature, but by adulthood we should get past it.  By trying to treat others as we would be treated, we are not actually being mindful of them or their wishes.  The problem is that it works well a lot of the time, because many of the basics are generally true - we do want to be listened to, to be accepted, to be treated with respect.  But the devil is always in the details, and these are rarely the same for two people.

For example, I was in a relationship with a woman who liked to be left alone when she was ill.  So when I got sick, she would leave me alone all day.  The problem is, I really like to be babied when I'm sick.  So when she got sick, I would make a fuss over her and try to take as much care of her as I could.  Needless to say, we both always felt unappreciated, no matter which role we were playing.  I was treating her as I would like to be treated, and was annoyed that she didn't appreciate it, while she was annoyed that I wasn't leaving her alone.  When I was sick, I felt abandoned and neglected because she was treating me as kindly as she could (from her assumption that she should treat me how she would like to be treated).  We were both being so kind to each other and couldn't see how following the golden rule just made us golden fools.  

Needless to say, the relationship ended badly.

Recall that the Buddha is said to have taught many different teachings to different groups, based on their level of spiritual development.  It is likely that Jesus did too.  His teaching that we should do to others what we would like done to us (Matthew 7:12) seems to be an entry-level teaching - it's a great place to start.  But it sets us on a path where our assumptions and past knowledge dictate our behaviors, rather than being open to the unfolding new situation with a person who isn't you.  

Image sources: Here and here.

Letting Go is Not Giving Up

At my meditation group last night, we discussed “letting go” in the context of painful memories, anger, disappointment, frustration, and injury.  I found myself intrigued by what seem to be two different meanings – a conventional cultural one and the Buddhist one.

I’m sure most of us have had the experience of being told by well-meaning friends and family that we should just “let go” of our feelings about some injury or heartbreak we have suffered.  In fact, we’ve probably said the same thing to ourselves (or to other people) once we feel that the suffering has gone on long enough.  Letting go seems from this perspective to have a meaning of getting beyond the feelings, forgetting them, or giving them up.   This seems to be a very difficult thing to do, at least in the short term.

In contrast, I take a Buddhist perspective on letting go to mean something much simpler and more possible in the short term.  By bringing mindfulness to the situation at hand, we may be able to recognize that there is nothing to be done at this moment about our anger, frustration, etc.  Therefore, we can let go of the need to ruminate at that moment.  This approach recognizes that the painful feelings are honest – it validates the fact that we still feel them – but it also recognizes that the situation does not require action from us.  If the situation does require action at that moment, we would hopefully recognize it and take the needed action.  In my experience, however, most of the time I’m feeling some angst, it’s me telling myself a story from the past or about the future.  The feeling may be honest, but worrying about it at that moment isn’t helping me – it’s usually hindering my ability to be fully functional in my life.  Therefore, letting go is very useful.  I know the feelings may come back, but hopefully at a time when I can use them skillfully.

This approach is summed up nicely thus: “Letting go is not a one-time decision. It’s something we may need to do repeatedly. But the more we practice, the easier it becomes to come back to the present moment.” [Editor's note: I have finally tracked down the author of this quote - Lori Deschene, founder of TinyBuddha.com, from her e-book on Letting Go of Difficult Emotions]

Many teachers emphasize that this is one major goal of basic breath meditation – to teach us to recognize when we are not present and to let go of whatever thought or feeling took us away.  Practicing this little letting go on the cushion can help us to do it with larger feelings when we’re off the cushion.

I would be interested to hear whether people have found this to be true in their experience.

Sources: Quote, photo, photo. This was originally posted on the Interdependence Project blog.