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Mettā for Stability and Concentration (Samādhi) with - Dawn Neal

The following talk was given by Dawn Neal at The Sati Center in Redwood City, CA on July 29, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Mettā for Stability and Concentration (Samādhi) with Dawn Neal

Introduction

So, welcome everyone, a warm welcome. I'm really happy to see your faces, your bows, and to be sharing this half day with you. This is a topic that for me is dear to my heart. Rob mentioned that I ordained as a Buddhist nun in Burma back in 2009. I can't believe it's been that long, but mettā1 for stability and concentration was my main practice during that temporary ordination, and it brings me joy to introduce some of the things that I learned there to all of you.

I'll start with a few brief remarks. As many of you know, mettā, loving-kindness, and goodwill are all synonyms for the Pali word Mettā. These are universal qualities of human experience, and they can be cultivated. That's the reason we're here today. Our focus for today is how to cultivate mettā in a particular way for Samādhi2. The words stability and concentration in the title of this offering both refer to Samādhi. I personally prefer stability or settledness over the word concentration. That's because in our culture, concentration is often associated with tightening down, bearing down, effort, a furrowed brow. Instead, the invitation is to consider concentration as juicy, like a juice concentrate. It's leaving out what's external and coming into alignment with what's most present—the intention of what's being cultivated.

The focus on kindness in mettā meditation can often help ease people off of this more striving-oriented way of trying to develop Samādhi, settledness, or concentration. There are a number of techniques the Buddha taught, and a number of techniques more broadly in meditation. This one tends to evoke more of a spacious ability to be present and undistracted, as opposed to a tight one. The word stability in English has another meaning, which is the kind of stability of heart and mind that can come from integration, from being and meeting what is with kindness. Loving-kindness, mettā meditation, can help with that, even when it is done primarily to stabilize attention. The benefits of mettā always go to the practitioner first.

Today, I'll be teaching this practice differently than the way many of you may have encountered it being taught before, which is classically with five categories of beings, starting with oneself and a benefactor, and ending with all beings. That can be a lovely practice, and it can be used over weeks or months to cultivate Samādhi. I did that as a nun in Burma; I spent days, maybe a week, in each category, got really familiar with each one. It was only after developing Samādhi in that one that my teacher would graduate me to the next one. So that doesn't work so well in a single half-day session, right? Simplicity is helpful.

So today, we're going to just keep the practice very simple and focus on what's easier for most people. I'll offer a range of techniques for that. But in general, the principle in using kindness meditation or any other of the immeasurables3—kindness, compassion, appreciative joy, or equanimity can all be used to cultivate stability of mind—the principle that cuts across all of them is simplicity. Not too many words, not too complicated, but engaged.

Broadly, mettā is different than other forms of meditation. While mindfulness is definitely part of it, it's not our focus here today. Instead, the focus is on coming back to the chosen cultivation of loving-kindness. And in that way, it's a kind of contemplation. There's this whole class of meditations in Buddhist practice that are more contemplative, intentionally invoking ideas and concepts to further develop, as opposed to opening to simply what is. As powerful as that is, in this practice, there's lots of room for imagination, playfulness, lightness, and making it your own.

So I'll just say a few words about why we might do this. The Buddhist teachings and later scientific studies show spiritual, emotional, cognitive, health, and relational benefits to practicing mettā meditation. This is a form of practice that's been cultivated now over millennia, so I trust the ancient Buddhist wisdom as much as the science on this one. Those benefits include better attentional control and concentration, more satisfaction and happiness, and gradually cultivating these capacities—first as a state after an individual meditation session, and then over weeks, months, and years as a trait, a return to a certain kind of default. I spoke much more about these benefits in other intro courses, including the one for Sati Center, so feel free to look back at those. The science is constantly evolving and adding and changing, so even though I'm up on scientific studies as far as last year, there's probably more out this year.

So today, the focus is on how. I'll introduce five principles to keep in mind. They spell out the acronym PAIRS: P-A-I-R-S, for those of you who like that kind of thing. The first, P, is playfulness and interest. The second, A, is appreciation. Something we did a little bit in the intro meditation is appreciation. Appreciation is kind of a superpower in this practice. Third, I, is intention. At its core, this is a practice of cultivating intention. Fourth, R, is repetition, key to any kind of learning. And the fifth, S, is to savor. Savor what arises. Simply savor. Even just the wish, the desire to cultivate kindness and goodwill, is powerful. It already starts working on you.

So, are you ready to practice? Okay, I see nods, that's good. You're still with me. This goes more smoothly if you hold it lightly, start where it's easy, and trust the process.

With that in mind, to start with, we'll be working with what some people call the "easy being" or the benefactor. This is someone who can be your mettā muse. It can be a person, a religious figure, a beloved pet. One very prominent and respected Buddhist monk I know picked a particularly cute squirrel as his easy being, so it doesn't have to be exalted. Kittens, puppies, fine. Young kids, great. I've even known people who've picked redwood trees or canyons. Now, you'll have to be a little bit inventive with the phrases if you choose something without sentience.

So as I'm talking, just kind of flipping through in your mind, maybe there's somebody that's easy for you. Really, nobody complicated. So, you know, I love them, but siblings and spouses are maybe not the best pick for this category. Pick something simple. And notice how it feels in your heart just to think of them, even before we start meditating. Just notice.

Guided Meditation

The invitation is to close your eyes and tune into that feeling in your heart, your emotional core, wherever it is. Find a comfortable posture. We often say in the meditation scene, a balance between relaxation and alertness. For the purpose of mettā meditation, emphasize the comfort. It should feel good, no distraction because of physical pain if you can avoid it.

And now, call to mind an image of them. If you don't visualize, you can imagine that you do, or a felt sense of this other one. Even a concept of them works in a pinch. In your heart, your mind, do a little review of what you appreciate or admire about them, what their good qualities, their virtues are. Not a whole essay, but maybe more like a little list. Taking a moment, it can be with images or clips of memory, or simply mental words, to sense into these good qualities and actively appreciate each one.

Then, letting those words go, feel into the emotional center of yourself again, keeping them in the forefront of your attention. If it's helpful, you can place a hand on your heart. Notice any feelings, including warmth or gratitude, any intentions of goodness that you feel towards this other one. Perhaps even imagining breathing through your heart center or your core, offering good wishes to them. You may imagine them receiving them, the change in felt sense or expression, body language, or just trusting that receiving.

With each breath, notice what it feels like to offer goodwill, kindness. And then, letting whatever sensations or feelings are there be held in your attention. You don't need to make anything happen.

It can be helpful to hone these good wishes with brief phrases or words of kindness, appreciation, and goodwill. I'm going to offer some short phrases that have become classic in Western Buddhist practice. The encouragement is that you may use those if they work, or find your own in your own language. I'll start with slightly longer ones, and the invitation is to pair them down eventually to a single word.

May you be safe from inner and outer harm. May you be happy. May you be healthy. May you be peaceful and free.

Tuning into whatever words work for you and repeating these phrases, perhaps offering on the out-breath and allowing, receiving a new sense of resonance on the in-breath.

May you be safe. May you be happy. May you be healthy, peaceful, and free.

Thank you for your practice.

Deeper Practice and Additional Techniques

So friends, I'll offer a few more thoughts and instructions, and then we'll have a Q&A period and a break. But first, a little bit more instruction and practice.

I'd like to talk about using your strengths and capacities, whatever they are, your learning styles, for mettā and for stability. I've introduced different techniques today. Many of you know them, and different ones of you will find some of these techniques useful at times and not at others. And maybe some of them are completely natural, and others just don't resonate. That's natural. We have different predilections, different learning and cognitive styles, different ways of relating to the world.

Unlike classic mindfulness meditation, as I mentioned before, mettā involves imagination. Creativity is encouraged. Play is okay; in fact, it's celebrated a little bit in this practice. And this is an invitation to find what resonates for you and leave the rest, at least for now.

So far, we've covered embodiment and breath in the guided meditations, as well as visualizing or a felt sense of your mettā muse, your mettā object, as they sometimes say. And we've covered using words or phrases. All of these are very common, classic components of mettā meditation. And now, I'd like to talk in the next few minutes about techniques that aren't as common or aren't as talked about but that work really well for some people.

But first, before I say that, I want to acknowledge that words and phrases don't work for everyone. And too many words, too many phrases, is usually not all that beneficial for deepening Samādhi, deepening concentration. All that said, Samādhi cultivation is usually helped by intent attention on embodiment, breath, sensations, being in the moment. And don't underestimate the power of reciting phrases in order to change inner chatter.

Part of how mettā works for concentration is by subduing unhelpful mental dialogue and chatter—what these days neuroscientists call the default mode network. If we're reciting mettā phrases, what we're not doing is engaging in self-criticism, self-evaluation, stories, judgments, at least not as much. And so for many people, it can be quite powerful to replace the default narrative with some kind of simple phrases. I know for myself, both in intensive practice in Burma and even in daily life, if my focus is mettā, I'll tune in and notice that, oh, my mind is just reciting these in the background, which is a beautiful alternative to the normal.

Kamala Masters is a very experienced and respected meditation teacher who kind of focuses on mettā; that's one of her focuses. She and I had a conversation some years ago about it because it's also been an interest of mine. She talked about how for many years in her early practice, she just couldn't get away for a retreat. So her teacher, Munindra4, told her to just practice in daily life. One of those practices was reciting mettā phrases: going around the house, caring for the young kids, cleaning the house, washing the dishes, whatever it was. And she discovered that over the years, as the practice unfolded, mettā phrases had almost completely replaced any other mental chatter. Whenever she just wasn't doing anything, thinking about anything on purpose, that's kind of amazing. And it's not just that it's a recitation; it changes the feeling inside over time. So that's the plug for the words.

Honestly, I don't use them that much. I tend to de-emphasize them. However, they work really well for some people to cultivate deeper Samādhi, as opposed to shifting the inner dialogue. And those two can operate in concert, right? They support each other, hand in hand. To cultivate the deeper Samādhi, it's helpful to engage as completely, with as much embodiment, as much interest as possible. And for many people, the phrases alone just don't do that.

One way to do this is with visualization. Another way is internal, or for that matter, if you're home alone, external gesture and movement. For those of us who are kinesthetic learners, this can be really powerful. From a Buddhist perspective, it engages volition, that about-to-moment of moving, whether it's a physical movement, a movement of speech, lips, and tongue, or a movement of heart and mind. So it engages that volition. It also, from a neuroscience perspective, engages the sensory-motor cortex, and that deepens connection with the practice.

So I'll demonstrate here. These were forms of engagement that I discovered on these months-long mettā practices. I would practice it while walking. Now, obviously, you have to keep your eyes open when you're doing that, or most of us do unless you have a guardrail right there or something. And eyes open or eyes closed, it's possible to use movement, like a gesture from the heart, a gesture of offering, of receiving. And so you can do it for yourself. You can do it below the fold of the video camera if you don't want to be seen. But think about what kind of gesture of offering goodwill and generosity might work for you. This is one that I came up with. I also invented some simple hand mudras that would point the intentions in a certain direction, or another one for the unspecific mettā that goes in all directions. The invitation is to play a little bit, visualize that or feel it in your body, or actually do it.

Part of the value of this—and this can happen with the phrases alone or with the breath alone—is it starts to build a rhythm, an internal rhythm. And I did this with the phrases too: "May you be happy, healthy, safe, peaceful, easeful, free," or whatever. Allowing a rhythmic kind of component to infuse your practice can help maintain a sense of attention and concentration, and it's also a manifestation of joy. That rhythm, it has two components: connecting and sustaining. Those of you who have done concentration series with me before have heard me talk about this. The connecting is like the striker striking a bell and not muting the bell from resonating on purpose. Connecting, bringing back, bringing back—that's the vitakka5. And then the vicāra6, sustaining, is the resonance of the bell between the strikes. What that does is it begins to open us to, okay, it's not just a checklist approach of a phrase or of a sending or receiving, but there can be a little carryover. This vicāra, this sustaining, it's like the difference between tapping a cat and petting a cat (or a dog, if you prefer dogs). Staying in contact with the intention, and if emotions are there or feelings are there, staying in contact with that. And that begins to gather the attention, gather the stability, the Samādhi, all together.

Finally, the attitude of the heart and mind is key. Even the challenges in meditation, including mettā meditation, are onward-leading as long as you're generous, appreciative, and open with yourself. And if you can't be that way with yourself, being patient with that rather than shutting down. This practice works even when it isn't working.

I'll close this little section of instruction with a story from a very famous mettā meditation teacher, Sharon Salzberg, one of the founders of Insight Meditation Society on the east coast of this country. She talked about being at Insight Meditation Society (IMS) for a long retreat where she was dedicating herself to the practice of mettā. Early in her practice, she's been very candid that she was highly self-critical; that was just the causes and conditions of her life. And so she's working with the phrases, and she's working with visualization, and it's going on for days, I think maybe weeks, and she's got this attitude like, "This just isn't working, I'm not getting anywhere. May you be happy, healthy..." you know, that kind of thing. And then she was called away from the retreat because of some kind of family situation. So she had to sort of move more quickly and get herself ready to leave. And she has this recollection in her story of being in the bathroom and picking up something that she needed to take with her and accidentally knocking it on the floor to where it broke. And the first thought that came up in her mind was, "Sharon, you're a klutz, but I love you." And that's when she knew it was working.

So, a plug that this practice can be working even when it doesn't look like it's working. It's helpful for Samādhi to have warm feelings come up or emotions come up or to tune into sensations, and all of that can happen. It's lovely. And it's actually not strictly necessary to begin the cultivation practice. This is kind of turning an ocean liner over time, shifting a lot of causes and conditions, and they may be invisibly shifting for a long time before you see a payoff. My teacher in Burma, Sayadaw U Indaka, a very well-known mettā meditation teacher there who's not so well known in this country because he doesn't have English, he would say to me when we discussed this on my long retreat, "If it's a choice between cultivating feelings and intention, cultivating the intention is more important. Stay with the intention. Trust the intention. It works even when it isn't working."

So that's my little wrap-up about the sort of next level of mettā meditation for stability.

Q&A

Questioner 1: I use a practice in the Thai Forest tradition, and I use the mantra "Buddho," that it represents the one who knows, and it's very simple and fairly dispassionate. Could you suggest another sort of one or two-word... I'm sort of done with "may beings be happy." I need something simpler.

Dawn Neal: Yes, and I get it. This is part of the general encouragement to find your own language and use your own language that resonates for you. So I use "Buddho" sometimes myself, and in fact, I will use it as synonymous with another single word that I'll use in this practice, which is simply "Mettā." And for me, eventually it turns into "Buddho," and eventually they mean the same thing. However, play with it for yourself. Even something like just finding that one word... and as you heard me, I sing it, I chant it. And that is something that I didn't bring up directly in the wording, but please, by all means, if you're someone for whom singing or chanting works, that is a beautiful way to cultivate your internal dialogue and brings more juice and joy typically. So thank you.

Questioner 2: I would like to know if this kind of thought that I try to use in the practice of mettā and karuṇā7 makes sense. It is about intention, but for me, it makes more sense than phrases and visualizations. It's trying to recognize in each action, each thought, our intention of mettā and karuṇā and compassion. Even if the action goes in a negative or destructive direction, in my thought, the intention is good. The intention when everybody does something is to help and get away from suffering, but because of ignorance, we go the wrong ways frequently. But the intention is good. So what I am trying to do, for example in the example of Sharon that you gave, is recognize, "Oh, it was a mistake, but I'm trying." This is a kind of way of the body or the mind to take care of yourself with the limitations that I have. For me, it's a kind of dis-identification with the emotion or thought or distraction, and at the same time, I don't have any aversion but a good feeling, "Oh, you're trying to take care of me, but it's not the most wise way." What do you think? Because in Theravāda, I don't find much of this. I find it in Tibetan Buddhism, but in Theravāda, I have difficulty to find it.

Dawn Neal: It's a profound question, and I'm going to do the best I can with the way I understood it. There are two, maybe three, basic delineations to consider. The first is, is this your own action coming from an intention of mettā that doesn't have that impact, or is it another person's action? Part of the reason I say that is Theravāda tends to focus more on our own actions of body, speech, and mind. And then, yes, absolutely, intention is key. However, so is sīla, ethical conduct and non-harming. So it's important to notice the difference between the intent and the impact, not for the purpose of being unkind to ourselves, but for the purpose of learning.

The Buddha talks about with every action, to notice after the action if it resulted in harm or benefit for self and other. And if it results in harm, to resolve not to do it again. So it's a learning feedback loop. And the same with an action that results in benefit, to notice, "Oh, this resulted in benefit," so yes, do it again. And then eventually, we may notice midstream, in the middle of that action, harm or benefit, and adjust accordingly. And then as wisdom develops and experience develops, it's possible to even notice at the very beginning harm or benefit and either refrain or move forward based on that. So that's a really beautiful practice to do in conjunction with your own mettā.

And then what you're describing in terms of noticing others—this beautiful, I think it's a quite profound recognition that most people are doing the best they can at any given time, regardless of how things turn out. And unfortunately for some people, the best they can do might be harmful, given the conditions of their lives and minds informing them. That doesn't mean we need to tolerate or allow catastrophic amounts of harm. However, it informs that kind of compassion and mettā that you're speaking about towards the underlying conditions or delusion or misunderstandings that might underlie behavior that isn't so helpful. And for most people who are really trying to do the best they can, it's a beautiful way of interacting with others. You don't see as much about that in Theravāda, although in my own experience with practicing mettā deeply, that insight naturally emerges. And it comes with appreciating the best in people while also recognizing their limitations. It's a beautiful way to navigate the world and a deeply valid form of the practice. It's operating at that volitional level that I hinted at, that doing a gesture begins to evoke. So I hope that's helpful. That was a lot of words. Thank you for the question and for your practice.

Questioner 3: I really appreciate this offering, both what you're teaching and the way you're teaching it. It's really so lovely, thank you. My question is about the "easy being" mettā, which was new to me. I'm wondering about entering into that, the timing of when to invoke the easy being. To put this in context, I just had a really big surgery on my neck. During the early nights of so much pain, my husband would lay behind me and rub my head. I felt like he was just right there with me, and because I was watching the pain rather than being in it—because of his love for me and his devotion—I think it held me in this kind of mettā field. I could see things I couldn't see very clearly before, like no-self, this is not personal, this is nature expressing itself. I've been wanting to evoke that loving-kindness field again, but when I choose my husband, you know, we interact all day long and get irritated with each other. So when you mentioned not to pick your spouse... I realized, oh, maybe that's why! So back to the question: do you have a suggestion for those early moments of starting the sitting practice when evoking the easy being?

Dawn Neal: This will be the last question, folks, and then we'll go to a break. It's a great question, and I promise I'm not cheating with my first response, which is: do what works for you. Experiment, play. A lot of people hate mettā meditation because it's been taught in this cookie-cutter kind of way, and it shouldn't be like that. It should be a playful, creative exploration and expression of your heart, your learning style, your mind.

So, for some people, it's helpful to start with a few minutes of just breathing and mindfulness meditation first. Other people find it's helpful to start with someone. I know people who even choose religious figures or teachers they don't know very well, where they are fully aware they don't know this person or being well, but that makes it easier to just cultivate a sense of appreciation for what they do know. And for some, it's easier to start by, as in that beautiful story about your husband, receiving it at the beginning rather than offering it. That is a beautiful way to start this practice. At different points in my life on retreat, I've even imagined a circle of people around me that I love or care about, all sending me the mettā, and then beginning with that.

So it really is, the invitation is to play and discover what works for you in that moment. It won't be the same thing every day, maybe. I've even... I don't know if some of you heard them, but my neighbor's kids were being really raucous for a few minutes during one of the meditations. I'm like, that just totally brings me joy! I don't know them that well, but I've interacted with them. And to just let those little bursts of joy—birdsong, whatever—inform the practice and begin to create that field. So I hope that's helpful.

We will be back at 15 after the hour.

The Middle Way and the Power of Intention

I'd like to start this little portion with a story. Many of you have heard this story; some of you, no doubt, have not.

At a certain point in the Buddha's development as a practitioner, he had become quite advanced with all kinds of meditative practices and was in a phase of practicing extreme austerities—staying up all night and not eating more than a few grains of rice a day. It's said he describes in the ancient teachings, during this phase of his practice, that you could touch his backbone through his belly. He was quite emaciated and weak. At a certain point, he had weakened so much that he'd been practicing by the side of a pathway. I hesitate to call it a road because in ancient India, they were dirt pathways. He had weakened so much that he was just kind of lying there, perhaps even mistaken for dead, but definitely not doing well and probably wasn't able to practice much anymore.

That morning, a woman, Sujātā, happened by. She had her meal for the day, perhaps her lunch, packed with her as she went off to work in the fields. It was a meal of rice gruel, kind of a rice stew. She saw him and was so moved by compassion that she knelt down beside him. I imagine she cradled his head in her lap and gently spoon-fed him her own meal for the day. Thus fed, she went on her way. But thus fed, he revived.

The way I interpret this story is it wasn't just the food; it was the kindness, the care, the connection that revived him. He was able to sit up, and he began practicing again. As he was practicing, he had this memory of being a child, maybe 10 or 11 years old, under the shade of a rose-apple tree on his father's estate, watching them start the harvest. He was so peaceful and so content and felt so safe that he just naturally went into a state of friendly absorption without any striving or effort or self-denial. As he remembered this, this thought arose in him: "This pleasure is not to be feared. Kindness is not to be feared, but instead to be cultivated."

It was that recognition that led him to begin to practice and later establish for the rest of us—fortunate enough to come after him—the Middle Way. Not austerities and not indulgence, but the Middle Way. I don't believe it's any coincidence at all that this turning point in his practice towards Awakening came from a moment of kindness and generosity that infused his mind and heart and practice.

This brings me to the most powerful aspects of cultivating mettā for Samādhi. First, regardless of what techniques work today for you or don't, and what happens today or doesn't, that fundamental attitude of nourishing yourself with kindness and care is onward-leading. Even if it's not possible in your mind and your heart at this point in your life—and at different points in people's lives, including mine, it hasn't been—to appreciate, to love, even the intention and the wish for it... that itself is powerful. Just wanting to be able to have it is powerful.

In my own mind and heart, I think of this as loving the intention of mettā, appreciating the intention itself. This can happen before the feelings actually arise for you, and it can happen well into the process when you're in jhāna8 or moving in and out of jhāna. So it's onward-leading, and it turbocharged my own practice because it's like having mettā for mettā itself, in a way. And that energizes things.

Any kind of undivided attention itself, with some kind of benign intention, can feel like love. And that undivided attention, that interest, that engagement, can be an expression of appreciation and love. So, celebrating, noticing, savoring, aspiring to that intention, and being able to trust the process regardless of how things are going—these are both really powerful ways of relating to the practice.

And so too is noticing and celebrating any glimmers of happiness, joy, or pleasure that might arise. Not grabbing for them—that won't work. Not clinging on to them—that doesn't work either, not for very long anyway, and it tends to kind of mess them up. It's hard to enjoy something when you're clenching onto it like a fist. Yet, to savor and appreciate any good feelings that come up.

Above all, cultivating that intention. It's a little bit sad to me, but yet it's true, and I had to hear it too as a practitioner: you have a permission slip to experience joy and happiness in this practice. Not just a permission slip, but enthusiastic encouragement. And if it's not happening, that's okay. That means the intention takes time to build. And like I said in that story of Sharon Salzberg, it worked even when it's not working, as long as you do it, as long as you keep doing it. It can take a long time to begin to shift the mental habits of the mind. So trusting the process is an incredible ally.

When I first started practicing this practice, I had a real gift, both with mindfulness and with this practice, of having absolutely no expectations. Just, "going to do this, see what happens." And for me, not very much happened the first year, actually. Sitting on the cushion was like, fine, nothing much. But the gift was there wasn't a lot of expectation. And gradually, I started noticing, "Oh, you know what? I'm happier and kinder and more patient in my daily life." And that was enough.

The Buddha said that cultivating mettā for the length of a finger snap is not wasting your time; it is worth doing. So those finger snaps are like drops in a bucket. They add up. To place the drops in a bucket, to allow those to go in, and celebrate when there's a little bit of a ripple—that's part of the art of this practice. Again, to hold it lightly, be playful with it. The acronym PAIRS I spoke of earlier: Playful interest, Appreciation, Intention, Repetition, and Savoring. All of those are on relating. And then loving and appreciating the intention itself begins to energize it.

So I hope that made some sense. This is the kind of more broad encouragement to building mettā for Samādhi.

Guided Meditation

We're going to go straight into another guided meditation for about 25 minutes or so, and then we'll close out our time together. Take a sip of tea or water, wiggle, stretch for a minute. It's a long time to be in front of a Zoom screen for all of us. As you're meditating, you're more than welcome to turn away so that you have a little bit less screen energy coming at you, if that's helpful. Be kind to your body, your eyes.

Finding a comfortable posture for this time. And again, starting with a couple of breaths, softening the eyes and closing them. Tuning in again to your emotional core, your heart center, or your torso, wherever it is.

Calling to mind again your mettā muse, your easy being. Maybe even greeting them internally, a smile of recognition or a high-five, bow, whatever is appropriate. And allowing the breathing to be natural, attuning to any emotions or sensations that come along with re-entering rapport with this other one, with yourself.

Offering an imagined internal gesture on the out-breath, offering wishes of kindness. Receiving, dropping in. Very simple words if that's helpful to build a rhythm: Safe. Happy. Healthy. Peaceful. Easeful, free.

Noticing, savoring any feelings of kindness, goodwill, pleasure, or little pulses of joy that might emerge. No need to make anything happen, just allowing and savoring if it's there. Allowing the mind to be content with whatever is arising.

And then, if it's helpful, perhaps offering these wishes along with this other one, or on your own, outwards more broadly. Letting the circle of mettā expand outward, including yourself and this other one, and whoever else, other creatures, people it feels right to include in the path of these wishes. Radiating kindness, goodwill out like light from a star, like a gong ringing peacefully in still air. In all directions, as far or as near as it feels right for it to go.

If it feels right to drop the words and just radiate, send these wishes outwards, feel free to do so. Just resting in, allowing these silent intentions to ripple outward through all corners of this body, heart, and mind, and beyond.

Noticing any sensations arising in conjunction with this practice. Savoring what feels good, holding with compassion everything else, and returning to the wish of mettā.

If it feels right, sending appreciation, aspiration, a sense of love to that intention as well.

Allowing the intentions of mettā to shine like starlight, or saturate like fog, to fill the whole body and mind, and move outwards in an unbounded way, including all that arises in experience, to be received, met, included in goodwill and kindness.

And then allowing visualization to subside, images of beings far away or nearby to subside for a moment. Being with the flow of present moment experience, however it is. Noticing the overall quality in your body, heart, and mind in this moment, the sense of kindness, goodwill.

Then turning your internal gaze towards your fellow practitioners today, here in this Zoom room or others who support your practice wherever you are. Especially those here, and sending intentions of appreciation, goodwill, kindness out to them, using words or phrases if you wish, or just a silent intention. And as you do this, attuning to receiving, imagining receiving those silent wishes from everyone else here. Taking it in, being nourished by it.

May we be safe, happy, healthy, peaceful, easeful, and free.

And then turning your internal gaze further outwards, appreciating this intention of mettā. If it feels right, forming the aspiration that this practice ripple through your actions, your heart, your mind, your life, to benefit others here, near, and far. May others experience the benefit of this practice. May the benefits of our practice here together ripple through our own minds, hearts, and lives, to all of the lives we touch, and all of the lives they touch, outward and outward.

May all beings everywhere be safe, happy, peaceful, and free. And may our practice here together be one cause and condition for that freedom.

Thank you for your practice.

Closing Reflections

Feel free, friends, to stay in silence if you wish. For the last few minutes of our gathering together, you're also welcome, if you wish, to put a word or two or a short sentence into the chat about what you're taking home from today. Or you're at home, but what you're bringing with you in your life today. If it doesn't feel right to engage like that, you don't have to. You can just stay quiet, stay with yourself, read others' if you wish, or just notice in your heart what feels interesting, helpful, nourishing to take home.

I'll read a few. This is in part to help engage it in your memories. "Finger snaps." "Kindness for self and others." "Appreciating the intention." "The Middle Way." "Gratitude for the community being here." "Gestures." "Patience." "Intention is enough." "New ways of visualizing." "Receiving as well as giving." "The Mettā Muse." "Finding a new Mettā Muse and offering mettā for mettā."

So whatever of these words or others resonate for you, the invitation is to take them in and really use that repetition, use that intentionality in your heart to begin to build more of a basis for your practice going forward. It's working even when it doesn't seem to be working. And as people are saying in the chat, it shifts a lot of conditions and causes that may not be visible right away. You can't fail. It will emerge. Trust the practice and the process.

So thank you very much for your attention.


Footnotes

  1. Mettā: A Pali word meaning loving-kindness, goodwill, friendliness, or benevolence. It is one of the four "immeasurables" in Buddhism.

  2. Samādhi: A Pali word that refers to a state of meditative concentration or mental collectedness. It is a key component of the Buddhist path to enlightenment.

  3. The Four Immeasurables (Brahmavihāras): Four sublime states of mind taught in Buddhism to be cultivated. They are Mettā (loving-kindness), Karuṇā (compassion), Muditā (appreciative or sympathetic joy), and Upekkhā (equanimity).

  4. Anagarika Munindra (1915-2003): A highly respected Bengali meditation teacher who was a key figure in the spread of Vipassanā meditation to the West. He taught many prominent Western teachers, including Sharon Salzberg, Joseph Goldstein, and Kamala Masters.

  5. Vitakka: A Pali term often translated as "initial application of mind" or "thought-conception." In the context of meditation, it refers to the mind's initial movement towards the object of meditation.

  6. Vicāra: A Pali term often translated as "sustained application of mind" or "discursive thought." It refers to the sustained attention and examination of the meditation object, following the initial application of vitakka.

  7. Karuṇā: A Pali word for "compassion." It is the second of the Four Immeasurables and represents the wish for all beings to be free from suffering.

  8. Jhāna: A Pali word referring to a state of deep meditative absorption characterized by profound stillness and concentration. There are several levels of jhāna, each progressively deeper and more refined.