Metta in the Spirit of Zen

Metta is a wonderful practice and a wonderful mindstate.  The act of blessing or making an aspiration for someone or ourselves is powerful.  And I'd like to make a point about metta that I haven't yet written about on this blog: metta is not a practice about making things nice. 

Metta as a practice is radical: it is radical in its openness; it is radical in its clarity; and it is radical in its scope.  (links jump down)

When we practice metta as a formal practice daily, we bring to the practice our state of mind however it appears in that moment that we sit down and then moment after moment afterwards.  Whether or not we feel open in any given moment, it is a practice of opening up.  We practice dropping our agenda and conventional thoughts towards the object of metta (whomever we have chosen to be the recipient).  Whether the person has slighted us or nurtured us or both, we direct our kindness and openness to them.  And whether we are practicing by chanting Kwanseum Bosal, or by reciting Om Mani Peme Hung, or by repeating phrases such as "May he feel safe", etc., we direct as much kindness as we can without getting caught by thoughts about the relationship. 

Dipa Ma- the great meditation master of the late 20th century was known to say on several occasions to say that metta practice and vipassana were not different.  The latter refines attention and directs it at certain phenomena until it becomes perfectly clear that while the car may be turning this way and that way, there's no one at the wheel.  As a correlate, the deep realization of not-self necessitates an appreciation for how a feeling of self is created from moment to moment as an attempt to  use an agenda to get comfortable. 

In metta practice, the order is a bit reversed.  We practice dropping the agenda as we direct metta towards whomever, and as we feel resistence to doing so, our agendas become crystal clear.  This is not a grueling practice, when done mindfully.  Metta itself creates a feeling of mental space in which things can arise clearly.  And in that clarity, all the ways we resist what is happening in the moment become very clear.  This is a very different state of affairs than how someone might imagine filling the mind with love.  And while blissful states of samadhi can arise from this practice, my experience of this practice is that it creates a sort of reflexive equanimity. May you be well, and you, and you, and you.  No exceptions.  And when that equanimity doesn't arise, it's like putting a big neon sign on whatever is causing resistance.  It can be uncomfortable, but that's really the fruit of practice- to be able to give attention to what requires it.  Clarity is a boon.

A scary realization can ocurr when a practitioner just begins to really give himself or herself over to the formal practice of metta. I experienced it as a child might feel when he has to apologize to someone and admit that he was wrong.  In this case what was brought to the surface for me was the recognition that I have nothing to lose by others being happy.  For years I thought I knew that to be true and believed it. I didn't think I was a phony. I mean, I had over the course of many years of practice gotten into the habit of wishing others well, wishing for freedom from whatever binds them.  I'm not suggesting that my previous years of practice and its effects were only skin deep, so much as I realized that they were conditional.  Finicky, even!  Metta brought home for me again and again how I imagine myself to be unhappy if a certain other becomes happy.  It's a little coo-coo, but metta's radical scope (metta for all!) exposed some faulty core beliefs.

My Tibetan teacher has said something in the same vein when he has talked about how peaceful deities and their practices are much more necessary these days than wrathful ones.  Wrathful deities can bring energy, and powerful compassion, and quick decisive action.  But according to him, people can get caught up in ego trips relating to intensity and peak experiences, and sensory stimulation (so much blood! so many flames!).  He says that peaceful deities by contrast accomplish the same goals through a different type of intensity: the intensity of unwavering love and compassion for all beings, even for all phenomena, and not as a trip but as simply an essential quality of their own being.  The unwavering aspect can be quite daunting as can be the bit about no exceptions.  Really thwarts the attempts at wiggling away.

I've never really thought about metta in the spirit of Zen before today.  What I mean by metta in the spirit of Zen is the practice of metta without even a goal or agenda for the practice.  Practicing metta simply as an expression of who we are in each moment of practice.  In this way, all the yanas are united.  A Theravadan practice takes on the Zen spirit of no path, no goal, no gain and arrives at what might be conceived of in tantric terms as a sort of purity or dignity.  These latter descriptors are without reference and not opposed to impure or undignified, and yet they point to an energetic state being able to relax into the state of things being just as they are.

So my advice is to please practice metta with as much kindness and clarity as you can. 

...with as much clarity and kindness as you can.

My apologies for the delay in publishing this latest post. I came down with a nasty cold, and as is typical in NYC in the Spring (Spring came early this year), I've had a never ending parade of guests from out of town. In fact, the only weekend I don't have guests in town is next weekend, when *I'll* be leaving town.

There have been a number of things on my mind lately, the above among them, that have served to disperse my concentration: a difficult client, the possibility of dating someone new, financial stress, travel plans, teaching, illness, visitors.

I want to share an approach to dealing with these types of daily life concerns that has served me enormously: formal metta practice. I hereby inaugurate my next installment of Don't Make Anything... because this practice really helps to do that.


I think the practice whose effects have been most observable for me has been formal (and I guess informal) metta meditation practice. Metta is a Pali word that means something like loving-friendliness.

The Buddha Shakyamuni explicitly taught many metta practices that are recorded in the suttas/sutras. And there are many ways of practicing. Here in the west, the most common is probably the mental repetition of metta verses. The traditional formulation contains one verse each on safety, mental happiness, physical wellness, and ease in life circumstances. One example is Sylvia Boorstein's wording:

May I feel safe.
May I feel happy.
May I feel strong.
May I live with ease.

These are repeated as a way of blessing oneself or others. In traditional practice, one devotes a block of time (one session or weeks of sessions) directing metta first to oneself. Then the practitioner moves on to friends, relatives, or benefactors who easily evoke feelings of warmth. Then neutral people--these are people we pass in the streets or people we might otherwise ignore. Then difficult people. Then all beings.

You don't have to strive to develop love and warmth while you're practicing. The phrases will get under the skin regardless. I just try to stay concentrated on the verses themselves with as much clarity and kindness as I can. Even if it's not much at a particular moment.

I practice this in an unusual way-- I only practice formally on the cushion for myself, whereas I practice off the cushion for all the other classes of beings. I started this way several years ago in order to improve my relationship with myself. Guess what? It worked. A major effect was that I developed a sort of inner voice that I didn't quite internalize when I was growing up. It's okay. Do your best. It'll pass. You're only human. You did it! And so on. It wasn't my intention to develop these thoughts specifically; it just happened.

Another spillover effect was that my kindness towards myself extended to others without much effort. Oh, she's just like me. Look at him, he's hurting. I do that [annoying thing] too sometimes.

I rarely practice formal metta for others on the cushion. I do it on the street (may he find nourishment and be happy), on the train (may her life become peaceful), at work (may they be strong). These thoughts might superficially appear dualistic (subject-object), but the mental texture of these thoughts is very light and slippery. They don't make a storyline at all. It's like writing with your finger on the surface of water.

I also like to let my mind wander as I'm going to sleep and direct metta to whomever comes to mind. It's very de-stressing, and I feel intimate with others in a way that feels very light.

When I'm afflicted by the circumstances I mentioned at the beginning of the post, I try to check in with myself with some metta. When I'm sick, I think: may I be well. When I'm being pulled in all directions I think: may I live with ease. I repeat them over and over but with clarity so that I'm aware of the meaning of my aspiration.


For anyone who might like inspiration in this practice, I recommend Sharon Salzberg's Loving-kindness; the Revolutionary Art of Happiness, the books and podcasts of Sylvia Boorstein or Arinna Weisman, or the wonderful biography of 20th century enlightened master Dipa Ma.