4. Metta Meditation
Mettā meditation:
Connecting with the web of life
by Prof. Peter Case
Aukana Trust Lecture, 11th May 2011
www.aukana.org.uk
We hear a great deal these days about connectivity and
communication. There can be little doubt that, for those fortunate enough to
have taken rebirth in the prosperous West and, indeed, for many in the
developing world, ours is an information age. Computer and other digital
technologies have played a crucial part in the development of mass
communication and interconnection. Such technologies are ubiquitous in the
contemporary world. Societies could not function without the intricate web of
computer networks that facilitate everything from personal banking, word
processing, personal organizers through to financial trading, insurance data
bases, government systems of numerous forms, computer games, simulations,
digitized music and video imaging.
A new generation of ‘plugged-in’ humans has emerged. On my
commute to and from work by train, for instance, I’m often fascinated by just
how many people are using mobile phones to connect with others at a distance,
either verbally or through text messages and emails. Many people plug
themselves into mp3 players to listen to music but even here there is a form of
connection with others – the recording artist or author – at a distance. Someone told me
recently that adolescent children at school are often in the habit of ‘texting’
their friends even when they’re in the same room! Textual exchange or
connection is preferred to the seemingly old fashioned act of talking to one
another.
What these forms of IT-mediated communication serve to remind us
is, if nothing else, that the world we inhabit is one of interconnection. In
modern civilizations we have found material ways of establishing channels of
communication based on the remarkable advances in the natural sciences and
engineering. The resulting technologies enable us to contact people wherever in
the world there is a satellite signal. We keep up friends and relatives through
social networking sites such as Facebook and even meet up with them virtually
using Skype or audio-visual devices.
But for all the extraordinary advances in digital technology
there is nothing particularly new to the phenomenon of communicating at a
distance. Australian aboriginals, for example, are reputed to have used
telepathy on a fairly routine basis to communicate with each other over vast
distances in the outback. Telepathy also forms part of the living traditions in
various Shaman cosmologies throughout the world. Furthermore, Buddha Dhamma, the teaching of
the Buddha, itself explicitly recognizes and contains detailed instruction on
how to develop the psychic capacity to see, hear and communicate at a distance
with other humans and non-humans. In this sense, the Internet and related
communication technologies are, in effect, our own culture’s version of this
direct intuitive ability to communicate and connect using clairvoyance,
clairaudience and telepathy.
A book which I read early on in my own spiritual journey is
Fritjof Capra’s The Tao of
Physics, written in the 1970s. Capra is a western trained physicist who,
through his wider studies, noticed that the truths being discovered by modern
scientists seemed to coincide very closely to those expressed by mystics within
ancient traditions, such as, Taoism, Hinduism, Sufism and Buddhism. When
exploring the fundamental make up of the universe at the level of atomic
particles, Capra observes, western scientists are being led to conclude that,
ultimately, our common sense notion of what is real is a kind of illusion; that, in
fact, the entire universe consists in interconnected space/time and energy.
This conclusion follows not only from the study of quantum physics but also
from the investigation of astrophysics and the scientific laws governing the
birth, development and death of the innumerable galaxies in the universe. It
seems that science leads us to the same insight that the ancient mystics spoke
of: that we reside in an incredibly complex web of energy and life.
More recent forms of mathematics and scientific investigation
based on string-theory, complexity and chaos theory, bear out the earlier
findings of scientists concerning the non-dual nature of the universe. Indeed,
Capra wrote another book called The
Web of Life in which he
provides an accessible account of how scientific developments are leading us to
understand the interconnectedness of the universe and, as a corollary, the
interdependency and fragility of the ecosystems that make up the extraordinary
planet on which we live.
Even though there are many interesting similarities between
science and mysticism of the sort Capra points to, there remain fundamental differences between techno-scientific
understandings of interconnection or non-duality and the wisdom of spiritual
traditions. Most importantly, however sophisticated it may get, science is – in
the last analysis – always locked into some form of representation or simulation of the universe. It is concerned
with modelling and explaining reality at an intellectual level. Spiritual seekers, on the
other hand, are never satisfied with mere models or representation; they want
direct experiential knowledge of interconnection. Moreover,
because of its history, science has to account for interconnectivity in terms
of material causation, such as, gravitation force or strong and weak nuclear
forces. Contemporary science is extremely unsympathetic to the possibility of
direct mind-to-mind contact and would consider communication between beings of
different forms in different realms the stuff of fantasy and delusion. For
those who develop the requisite skill in concentration meditation, however,
such mind-to-mind interaction and connectivity is known experientially to
exist. As Buddha Dhamma teaches us through its mundane
truths, there are many realms beyond this human one in habited by other
conscious entities and, moreover, there are teachers who know and can point to
these realities. Buddha Dhamma contains detailed maps of this
cosmos and instructions on the mundane skills and techniques needed to develop
psychic capacities, to travel to other realms and communicate with beings
there.
Here at the Aukana Trust, we teach two basic forms of meditation
each of which aims to offer direct intuitive and experiential knowledge of
interconnection. As you will be aware, we put greatest emphasis on vipassana, ‘insight’ meditation
for the simple fact that it is the one meditation technique that leads
directly to the highest knowledge of all, that is, supramundane realization of nibanna – Enlightenment itself. This is
knowledge of the unconditioned, the unborn. It is to connect fully with the
non-dual infinite and discover that
which is always already the case. It is, in short, the ending of all
suffering. Knowledge of nibanna removes all forms of ignorance,
craving and attachment; it is knowledge that there are no separate ‘entities’,
‘beings’ or, indeed, any ‘things’ in the universe to crave or become attached
to. One who comes to this understanding knows, beyond all doubt, that there is
nowhere to go, nothing more to achieve, nothing more to become. In the words of
the Pali Canon, for the Enlightened person: ‘Done was what was to be done;
there is no more becoming such and such’.
Alongside vipassana meditation we also teach mettā – ‘loving-kindness’ – as an
essential accompaniment to the insight training. Why? Why is it necessary to
practice mettā when we’re told that, in and of
itself, it does not lead to Enlightenment knowledge. There are several
interrelated reasons. If one focuses exclusively on vipassana it’s all too easy to develop a
rather selfish and instrumental attitude toward the training. Someone hell-bent
on Enlightenment, as it were, will – far from reducing self-importance – find
that they inadvertently reinforce their sense of ego based on a purely selfish
desire to ‘become Enlightened’. Now, if Enlightenment is the ‘end of becoming’,
then we can already see that there’s a major problem with this attitude.
Selfish concern to get to the end of the path at any cost will actually take
one in precisely the opposite direction and increase one’s sense of isolation
and suffering.
Cultivating mettā on a regular and systematic basis
develops a mundane appreciation of interconnectedness and opens one up to
contact with others. This, in turn, helps break down the barriers between the
ego and its environment. One can begin to gain direct experience of the fact
that one is not separated off from other people, other animals or non-humans
or, indeed, other inanimate things. It is worth bearing in mind that the Buddha
Gotama, although supremely Enlightened, used to retire to his ‘perfumed
chamber’ every day without fail to practice mettā and the other divine abidings.
Such is the power and importance of this practice.
Mettā also encourages us to consider the welfare of others and,
although it is formally an act of mental cultivation, in practice it translates
in daily life into putting others’ interests before one’s own. In order to
arrive at a point where Enlightenment becomes a very real possibility we have
to develop many positive and virtuous qualities, such as, generosity, ethical
discipline, truthfulness, patience, determination and even-mindedness – to
mention six of the ten parami or ‘perfections’. Mettā is also included as one of these
perfections which someone en route to the highest knowledge must develop. So,
it’s important to understand that insight meditation pursued in isolation will
never be enough to complete the journey. It is also necessary to work at a
practical level on reducing self-centredness.
Mettā is also one of the four Brahma
vihara or so called ‘divine
abidings’; a set of meditation disciplines that are conducive to ‘ease of
living here and now’. In order the four are: mettā – loving kindness, karuna – compassion, mudita – sympathetic joy, and upekkha – equanimity. The Buddha provided
detailed instructions on how to develop each of these practices so that
practitioners could connect with, and dwell in, efficient states of mind. Of
the four, mettā is the most important as its
cultivation automatically results in the development of the other three divine
abidings. So, how do we practice mettā?
There are two basic methods. Both start with cultivating a feeling of
friendliness and then either (a) directing it toward individuals or groups, or
(b) moving the feeling outward spatially in graduated steps using what’s called
the boundless practice. Both methods can be pursued either through formal
seated practice (that is, seated with eyes shut in a quiet place) or more informally
while, say, sitting on a bus or train, in a waiting room, or at any other
convenient opportunity. You don’t have to be super concentrated to practice mettā.
Whichever approach is used – directed or boundless - it is
important to start the formal seated practice by deciding how long you intend
to do the meditation. You might devote thirty minutes or a whole hour
exclusively to mettā or, alternatively, you might start
an hour’s practice by doing, say, twenty minutes of mettā followed forty minutes of vipassana. Having decided how
long you intend to sit for, the next thing to be aware of is your present state
of mind. Are you running ill-will, are you bored or agitated, is the mind a
little flat or, on the other hand, are you in a positive mood with a buoyant
and pliable mind ready to meditate? If there are hindrances present, it’s good
to note them and then attempt to take corrective action to establish a more efficient
state of mind before starting the practice. One thing you can do is reflect on
the disadvantages of anger and resentment. Think about how unhelpful it is to
run ill-will; how it makes you appear ugly to others, prompts you to speak
harshly and can even lead you to break things and cause harm to other beings.
Having pondered the disadvantages of hatred one then reflects on the many
positive benefits of loving kindness. There eleven traditional benefits of mettā. These include being able
to sleep well, not experiencing bad dreams, being able to concentrate much
better, having a bright and pleasant complexion and being dear to both humans
and non-humans. Actively thinking about the advantages of mettā can often be enough to brighten
the mind and make it ready to do the meditation.
Once you’re ready to begin the practice proper, it’s important
to cultivate love and friendliness toward yourself. And here we encounter
another potential stumbling block as many people find it extremely difficult to
feel love for themselves. One way around the problem is to begin by thinking of
all the positive aspects of one’s life – all the things that one has going for
oneself, such as, a good job, a comfortable home, plenty to eat, loving friends
and family, and so forth. Once the basic positive mental state is in place, one
can then begin thinking of one’s own positive qualities. This is time for
blowing one’s own mental trumpet mentally and refusing to dwell on
negativities. As Alan once usefully put it in the words of a famous song, mettā is all about ‘accentuating the
positive, eliminating the negative and not messing with Mr in-between’! So it’s
important to think of the fact that, perhaps, you work hard to keep house and
home together; that you are generous with your time and give to good causes;
that you devote time to pursuing the meditative path, keep the precepts,
practice meditation on a regular basis, and so on. All such thoughts will be
conducive to cultivating love toward yourself. Once this feeling is present – and
it can be vary along a spectrum of relatively weak to very strong indeed – it
can be directed toward other beings.
Using the ‘directed’ method, the traditional way of proceeding
with the meditation is to send loving-kindness first to a respected friend (typically
your kalyana-mitta - your spiritual friend), then to
a loved one (for example, a spouse, another member of the family, or close
friend), then to someone about whom you feel neutral (this might be, for
example, the person who serves you regularly at the local corner store or a
work colleague with whom you are acquainted but who’s not particularly ‘close’
to you), and then, finally, toward an ‘enemy’, that is, someone toward whom you
have felt hatred in some degree or other. As you can see, the way in which mettā proceeds is in order of
difficulty. It’s fairly easy to direct friendly feeling toward a respected
friend and loved one, less easy to direct it toward a neutral person and quite
challenging to feel friendliness to an enemy or someone who you take to have
caused you harm in some way.
Each of the Brahma
vihara meditations have so
called ‘near’ and ‘far’ enemies. These are qualities of mind that are
destructive of the intention and purpose of the practice. The near enemy of mettā is ‘lust’ and the far enemy,
hatred itself. So, for example, when directing loving-kindness toward your
partner the feeling of friendliness might get corrupted by feelings of lustful
or sexual desire. If you find this happening, it’s best to take the mind away
from the immediate subject – your partner, say - and return it to the previous
object, the respected friend. Once you’ve established friendliness correctly on
this object you can try, once again, to direct it to your partner or loved one.
Similarly, when practicing mettā toward one’s enemy – say a
difficult boss – it’s relatively easy to fall into hatred. Thoughts of
friendliness become subverted as the image of that person prompts one to turn
over in mind the unpleasant conversation one had earlier that day and how badly
done by you’ve been. Again, if this happens, simply drop the object and return
it to the neutral person, or go back further down the chain. Re-establish the
friendly feeling and then proceed to the next person.
There are also formal techniques of overcoming hatred in mettā and anyone interested in finding
out more about these might like to read the chapter on mettā in Jacqui and Alan’s book, A Meditation Retreat, or read
section IX of the Visuddhi
Magga (page 323). The range
of techniques – twelve in total - include, amongst others: giving a gift to the
hated person (this can be done mentally in one’s imagination as well as
physically), dwelling on the other person’s good qualities (there will be some
if you think hard enough!), reflecting on the fact that hating someone will
harm you as much if not more than the other person, or considering the hated
person in terms of the ultimates of existence – from which perspective there is
no other person to hate, only transient sensory phenomena which come and go
with incredible rapidity. These are skilful
means through which anger can
be restrained and eventually supplanted by more efficient states of mind.
Once you’ve worked your way through the traditional four types
of person, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t then go into ‘free form’, as it
were, and direct mettā to other individual human beings;
toward groups of humans, towards animals, pets and so forth. If you have a
Facebook account, why not use that as a mental reference list of people to whom
you can direct loving kindness.
Mettā is, in the last analysis, a thinking
meditation. Once you’ve developed the basic skill it can be useful to find
ways of varying the practice and using your imagination to keep it fresh. For
instance, you can invent unusual means of travel to meet the person toward whom
you are practicing. Distance is no object, physical boundaries are no object to
an active imagination. One meditator I knew used to picture himself on a magic
carpet and whizz through the air in order to encounter various people.
In addition to the directed practice of mettā one can also cultivate the
boundless practice. In undertaking the boundless practice, you start in exactly
the same way by setting things up properly and directing friendly feelings
toward yourself. Now, instead of directing that feeling toward specific
individuals, you move outwardly from a point in the solar plexus in a graduated
fashion. It can be useful to picture a warm, golden candle flame emanating from
the one’s centre and moving out to fill first the whole of one’s body – filling
it with feelings of friendliness to all beings in the body – then outward to
fill the entire room in which one is sitting, then out again to the whole house
or building, then the neighbourhood, the town or city, the country and so on
into the outer reaches of the cosmos, if one so desires. If this method is
employed, it’s also important to bring the mind and friendly feeling back in
the reverse order that one went out, as it were. So, from the galaxy to the
solar system, to the planet and so on until you’re back in the room and to your
body and back to the solar plexus.
There is also a salutation that one can use – a formula, if you
will – to assist with the boundless practice. It runs as follows: ‘May all
beings be well and happy, wherever they may be. Whether they are near of far
away; whether large or small; seen or unseen, may all beings be well and happy.
Whether they have two legs, four legs, six legs, eight legs, many legs or no
legs, may all beings be well and happy. Whether they be born or yet to be born,
whether they reside in a high or lowly position, may all beings be well and
happy. Whether they walk or crawl, fly or swim, may all beings be well and happy,
whatever they may be doing’. This salutation can be reflected upon at each
stage of the spatial journey outward from the centre of the body so as to share
the mettā with beings in a completely
uninhibited and inclusive way.
As a final point regarding the boundless practice, it’s also
worth noting that it can be pursued using the points of the compass, that is,
directing friendly feeling toward all beings to the north, south, east, west
and points in between – toward all beings in heaven realms above and all beings
in less fortunate realms below. Again, varying the technique from time-to-time
will help keep the practice alive and vital.
Mettā really is a crucially important accompaniment to the vipassana path. It serves to break down
barriers between beings and truly connect the meditator with the mundane
universe. Speaking personally, I remember that, shortly after I first took up
the training, it was the powerful effects of mettā that convinced me that meditation
worked. As a young research student I’d been somewhat inwardly focussed. I
could literally go days whilst working on a research project without speaking
to a single soul. Following meditative instruction and, giving it my best shot,
I tried – with no little difficulty, I might add – to cultivate mettā on a daily basis. Within a week or
so I noticed that people would spontaneously strike up casual conversation with
me, say, for example, when I went into a shop to buy a newspaper. This had
simply not happened before and I was genuinely intrigued by how the meditation
had brought about this tangible effect. It was one of the first lessons in the
just how powerful the mind is and how mettā can truly break down the barriers
to communication in really practical ways.
Of course, as I’ve already indicated, mettā does not lead directly to the Enlightenment; only vipassana – intuitive insight into the transient, unsatisfactory and non-self nature of reality – will destroy the fetters that bind us to the world of rebirth and suffering. But, when practiced effectively, mettā certainly has the ‘flavour’ of the Enlightened mind. Although it might not yet experience non-duality in its purest form, the mind filled with mettā nonetheless understands through direct experience that there is an intricate web of life in which all things – animate and inanimate – are totally interconnected. In that sense at least, mettā approaches the infinite and does wonders for breaking down the barriers between oneself and the wider universe. So in this information age of ours, my advice is not to rely solely on broadband, the Internet and Facebook. Get truly interconnected by cultivating and discovering for yourself the power of mettā.
