The second of the five hindrances is ill will (vyapada), which arises when we carelessly turn our attention to that which provokes our dislike. Although we most readily recognize ill will as hostility, it can also manifest as aversion, causing us to push against or turn away from that which we want to avoid. The result is an agitated, troubled mind.

The sutras say it’s like gazing into a pot of boiling water. As the water churns and seethes, it prevents us from seeing our reflection clearly. Not seeing, we misperceive ourselves and others. Our viewpoint becomes narrow, which leads us to constrict and defend. Therefore, the primary remedy for ill will is to allow the water to become calm by cultivating lovingkindness (metta). We can also meditate on the four immeasurables of lovingkindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity, since any of these will cause the feeling of ill will to dissipate. Although we’re all capable of holding conflicting emotions, it’s actually impossible to be simultaneously hostile and loving in our thoughts. Metta is the primary antidote for ill will and the confusion that accompanies it, because it truly is like the rays of the sun, as the Buddha said. It radiates, illuminating everything in its path. 

• Tip: The first step in working with ill will is to look at it closely. The most challenging aspect of ill will—or any of the other hindrances—is that it’s intoxicating. A part of us wants to be hostile—which means we must make room for the part of us that would rather be free. Stop, look, and wait. Then watch as ill will, unheeded, fades.
• “An aspect of investigating ill will is to discover the beliefs that support it. Why do we believe it is important or pertinent to remain with these thoughts and motivations? How might we believe that aversion will benefit us? Why might we believe that ill will is justified?” –Gil Fronsdal
• “Keep in mind that the layers of conditioning on a person have made them difficult to handle, just like the layers of dirt on a cloth. Perhaps they have faced hardship unknown to us. . . . What matters is that we see that someone is suffering. We can offer them our loving-friendliness.” –Bhante Gunaratana
• Tip: If you feel yourself caught in a loop of aversion or hostility, try turning to a friend for help. Good friendship can be a powerful balm for our negativity. A noble friend can help us gain perspective or simply listen attentively as we acknowledge our struggle. They can remind us that whatever we’re going through will pass.
• “We must find a way to abandon the hindrance of ill will directly, without waiting until circumstances change and we get the justice, retribution, or redemption we’ve been craving. We have to work on ourselves.” –Domyo Burk 

♦

This is the second installment of our series on the five hindrances—sensual desire, ill will, sloth/torpor, anxiousness, and doubt—and their respective antidotes. A printable version is available here.

The post Working with the Five Hindrances: Ill Will appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

“Radiating kindness over the entire world: Spreading upwards to the skies, And downwards to the depths. . . .” These are the Buddha’s instructions in the Karaniya Metta Sutta, the “Sutra of Lovingkindness,” for extending happiness to all beings. Metta (Skt., maitri), or “lovingkindness,” is the penultimate of the ten paramis, or perfections. It appears directly after adhitthana, determination, perhaps because, as Acariya Dhammapala says in his Treatise on the Paramis, to do this challenging work our resolve must be unshakable. Our offering is meant to be complete, unconditional, and indiscriminate—like the rays of the sun, radiating equally over all beings. We’re not asked to mete out judgment or calculate merit. We don’t have to withhold or reward. Lovingkindness just shines, fueled by the recognition that every one of us ultimately wants the same thing: to be safe, happy, and at ease.

In metta meditation, we first wish happiness to ourselves, then to those we love, those we feel neutral toward, those we struggle with, and finally to all beings. And although it may seem odd that in a tradition based on selflessness we’d begin this practice with ourselves, it makes good sense. As the poet Galway Kinnell wrote, “Sometimes it is necessary to reteach a thing its loveliness.” And what better place to start than by relearning to love ourselves?

• “To love is, first of all, to accept ourselves as we actually are. That is why in this love meditation, ‘Know thyself’ is the first practice of love.” –Thich Nhat Hanh
• “The quality of lovingkindness is simply who you are. You don’t need a reason to manifest your natural state. You can develop lovingkindness just because. You can be compassionate just because—not for some profound reason or because the Buddha or the dharma pushes you into it. You do it because you are able to do it.”         –Jetsun Khandro Rinpoche
• Tip: If you are struggling to offer lovingkindness to yourself or another, remind yourself: “I want to be happy and free of suffering, just as other beings do.” Let lovingkindness drive your actions, trusting that when your aspiration is clear, good results will follow.
• “In metta practice, it is normal for the doubting mind to pop up and challenge the notion of loving ourselves and others. Don’t let this doubt stop you. It is important to know that metta is not a practice of perfection, but one of cultivation.” –JoAnna Hardy
• Tip: Remember that the paramis are “perfections” not because their practice is supposed to be flawless, but because they’re based on wisdom: the realization of our innate wholeness or completeness. If you start judging yourself or your practice, offer that judging mind the same all-encompassing lovingkindness—and keep going.

♦

This is the ninth installment of Pocket Paramis, our series on the ten perfections: generosity, ethical conduct, renunciation, wisdom, energy, patience, truthfulness, determination, lovingkindness, and equanimity. A printable version is available here.

The post Pocket Paramis: Lovingkindness appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

This Dharma Talk will explore how two heart practices, metta and karuna, can be cultivated and experienced in meditation and also in day-to-day life. Meditation teacher Devin Berry says, “The protection and focus of metta, along with the tenderness and fierceness of compassion, are also threads that connect to social transformation.”

Devin Berry is a meditation teacher whose work focuses both on daily life practices and long-form retreat. He worked with youth for many years before co-creating Deep Time Liberation, a program for ancestral healing in response to intergenerational trauma in Black Americans.

The post Metta and Karuna: Two Heart Practices to Cultivate in Meditation and Daily Life appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

“Zuisei, you just have to love them,” Hogen said, looking at me pointedly from under those Bodhidharma eyebrows of his. Caught off guard, I didn’t immediately reply. Love them? What was that supposed to mean? Hogen smiled at me and walked away before I could say anything. After a moment, I returned to my office grumbling under my breath. What did love have to do with anything?

It was the middle of the afternoon and I’d been heading to the kitchen for a snack when I overheard the tail end of a conversation between Hogen (now Hogen Sensei) and another monastery resident. As a senior monastic at Zen Mountain Monastery and the director of Dharma Communications (the monastery’s outreach arm), Hogen often gave advice to the mostly young and earnest residents, and his approach was like a football coach’s—gruff, practical, and caring: This is how you get into trouble. This is how you avoid it. I don’t remember what exactly he was telling that resident, but I knew I’d heard it before—many times before. So with more than a tinge of impatience, I’d asked him if he wasn’t tired of repeating himself. Love them, he’d said in response.

“Are you all right?” my officemate asked. I’d been staring out the window, trying to determine why I was so annoyed at Hogen’s comment. Love was too soft, too vague a teaching, it seemed to me—not to mention too impractical to actually address the suffering in the world.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I answered, though my annoyance hadn’t diminished one bit. I wasn’t about to lose sleep over it, though. I did a quick mental shrug and with it dismissed Hogen’s teaching. But his words must have remained tucked away in some deep recess of my mind, because about a decade later, they resurfaced exactly when I needed them.

Sun streamed through the window of the Buddha Hall, making my right eye water where it caught the glare off the oak floor. I thought of getting up to close the curtains but decided against it. My friend and I had offered incense at the altar before settling down on our cushions, and we now sat a few feet apart, facing each other, both of us solemn. She was about to tell me all the ways I’d hurt her over the last few months. My job was to sit quietly and listen.

A year earlier I’d taken on Hogen’s old job as director of operations, but because the monastery was short-staffed at the time, for a while I doubled as the creative director—a role I’d had for a few years. At first I was excited by the challenge. I didn’t have any business experience but was eager to learn, and I’ve always thought there’s no better way to learn than by doing. But I hadn’t counted on the challenge of having to run a business on roughly 20 hours of work a week with an all-volunteer staff who also had little or no business experience. And while in the past a mistake on my part had meant little more than a missed deadline, now each of my gaffes showed clearly in the quarterly reports. In the days before and after each board meeting I walked around with a knot in my stomach.

It wasn’t long before I felt completely overworked and undertrained, and although I could have responded to the stress in any number of ways, despite my years of practice I resorted to the oldest cover-up for insecurity: domination.

“You’re imperious,” the web director said to me one day after a particularly tense exchange between us. But I was too unsure about my ability to do the work to actually take in what she was saying, too afraid to stop and reflect on whether there might be a better way of working and leading.

My friend and I sat facing each other, both of us solemn. She was about to tell me all the ways I’d hurt her over the last few months.

I’ll be damned if I let this ship go down under my watch, I thought, as I put my head down and pushed even harder. Running on stubborn, manic energy, I worked through meals, breaks, and weekends. I even worked during zazen, plotting marketing campaigns and running cost and benefit scenarios in my head. After a few weeks of this, I got sick, and then I got sick again. But I just ignored the signs and kept going, truly believing that the only solution was to work harder. Yet the more overworked I felt, the more I unconsciously took out my distress on anyone who dared to cross me. So it wasn’t surprising that I’d finally been called out on my harshness and impatience.

The graphic designer, whom I considered a good friend, had complained to the abbot about our interactions, which had culminated in a disagreement about the store catalog. My friend, who was meticulous to a fault and very hardworking, simply didn’t share my need to work herself to the ground to meet an arbitrary deadline. In other words, she had her priorities straight. She knew she’d gone to the monastery to do Zen training, and she understood that work was only one aspect of it.

“I’ll have the catalog ready in a day, two at most,” she said to me. “It’s not a problem.”

She was right, of course. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a problem at all. But I was too caught up in my own agenda to see the larger picture. All I could think of was the lost revenue those extra days would translate into. So I yelled at her, and now the two of us were sitting in the Buddha Hall.

Abashed, I waited quietly as she pulled out two legal-sized sheets of paper covered with tiny lettering. “I took some notes,” she said, and started reading from a list of grievances. At one point, as she flipped a page to look for a particular point, I noticed that she’d run out of room but had kept on writing in a loop in even smaller letters along the margin.

It was that cramped visual catalog of my wrongdoings that finally jolted me out of my daze. You have to do better, I thought. Then I remembered Hogen’s advice to me.

It’s said that one day, when the Buddha was staying at Savatthi, five hundred monks came to see him and asked for instruction. With great skill, the Buddha offered each of them meditation techniques suited to their particular temperament and capacity, and afterward the monks set off toward the Himalayan foothills in search of a place where they could do an intensive retreat. After wandering for some time, they found a beautiful hill bordered by a forest grove with a clear spring running through it and nearby, a town with a large marketplace. Delighted at having found such a perfect spot, the monks decided to spend the night in the forest.

The next morning they headed into town to beg for their food, and the villagers, happy to have such devoted practitioners among them, fed the monks generously and asked them to stay in the grove. Over the following weeks, the villagers built a small hut for each monk and furnished it with a cot, a stool, and a couple of pots. The monks settled in, and everyone was very pleased with the arrangement. But neither group knew that in that forest lived a band of tree-dwelling devas who, out of respect for the five hundred mendicants, didn’t want to remain in the trees while the group practiced meditation below them. So the divine beings left their homes and retired to the edge of the forest, where they waited patiently for the monks to finish their retreat. But as the weeks went by and it became clear that the wanderers were not leaving, the devas got together and decided that the only thing to do was to scare them away. Using their supernatural powers, they transformed themselves into wrathful demons and went around the grove shrieking and moaning, while all around them wafted a stench so awful that even the trees began to wither.

Scared out of their wits and utterly disgusted by the smell, the monks rushed from the grove and traveled en masse to Jetta’s Grove to plead with the Buddha to find a new place for them to practice. But the Buddha said, “Monks, go back to the same spot! Only by striving there will you attain the liberation you’re seeking. Don’t be afraid,” he added. “Take this sutra with you. Use it as the object of your meditation and also as a tool for protection.” Then he taught them the Karaniya Metta Sutta, “The Discourse on Loving-kindness” (quoted here from the Amavati Sangha translation). It begins:

This is what should be done
By one who is skilled in goodness,
And who knows the path of peace.

Only 42 lines long, the sutra paints a portrait of someone for whom loving-kindness is a beacon. It describes a person who has chosen to be free rather than to be right—one of the most difficult and most profound shifts any of us will ever make. It was precisely the shift I needed, I finally realized, if I was going to fulfill the vows I’d made as a monastic. I hadn’t gone to the monastery to run a business, after all. I’d gone there to train because I wanted to wake up, and I’d made a vow to help others wake up too. But reading the sutra, I could very clearly see the gap between reality and my aspiration.

Let them be able and upright,
Straightforward and gentle in speech,
Humble and not conceited,
Contented and easily satisfied,
Unburdened with duties and frugal in their ways. Peaceful and calm and wise and skillful,
Not proud or demanding in nature.

Since taking on my new job, I’d most definitely been proud, demanding, and easily dissatisfied. I hadn’t felt peaceful or calm, and I certainly hadn’t been wise or skillful. I could be frugal, yes, but I couldn’t in all honesty call myself contented—especially since most of the time I did feel burdened. As for humility, well, let’s just say I had a long way to go. So even though I now had a way to understand and put into practice Hogen’s teaching, I wasn’t sure I was actually up to the task.

One evening I was walking up to my cabin and turning all this over in my mind when I passed an old sprawling oak at the top of the hill that led to the monastery’s cemetery. I remember stopping to stare at the oak’s thick, gnarled branches and saying under my breath, like an invocation, Let me love them. And immediately I felt in my body the response: fear. That’s when I realized I wasn’t actually skeptical of Hogen’s advice; I was afraid of it. I was afraid to get that close. Yet I also knew that choosing my boundaries was not an option. The same fear that kept me separate from others kept me separate from myself. So if I was going to love anyone, I had to begin with me. I had to be kind to the many beings in my mind: the perfectionist, the bully, the critic, and the cynic. The dictator, the judge, and the executioner. The fearful one, the vulnerable one, the insecure, and the ill at ease. I had to love all the many beings I knew well and the many others that I kept hidden. The ones I shunned or felt embarrassed by, those I tried to control, and those I pushed away.

Whatever living beings there may be;
Whether they are weak or strong, omitting none, The great or the mighty, medium,
short or small,
The seen and the unseen,
Those living near and far away,
Those born and to-be-born—
May all beings be at ease!

I had to gently look at the mighty criticisms I slung my way when things weren’t working the way I wanted, the middling arguments I constantly had with myself, the tiny but frequent putdowns that filled my ongoing monologue. These were the unacknowledged thoughts and feelings that spilled over as anger, judgment, and impatience toward others. I had practiced long enough to know that the way I was treating others was the way I was treating myself—that one couldn’t change without the other.

Standing under the oak silhouetted against the darkening sky, I heard in my mind the Buddha’s response to the frightened monks: “Go back to your place of practice! It is only there that you’ll find liberation.” There, in the places that scare you. There, in the midst of your suffering, your aversion, your discomfort. There, in your fear, your anxiety, your confusion. There, in your frailty and your humanity.

“Zuisei, you just have to love yourself,” Hogen could have said to me. “That, too, is how you love them.”

The Buddha once said that those who truly love themselves will never hurt others. He said that if we were to wander through the whole world, we wouldn’t find anyone dearer to us than ourselves. But since others feel the same way, we should love the most loveable “other.” Then again, we could love them knowing that ultimately there’s no self and no other—there’s simply interbeing.

If ignorance keeps the wheel of samsara turning, wisdom shows us that love is the true fuel of creation, the universe’s prime mover.

It was the fourth day of sesshin, and I’d gone through my usual gamut of emotions. As the days went by, I swung from excitement to annoyance to calm to exhaustion in a pattern I’d come to recognize over years spent doing monthly silent retreats.

Now, just past the halfway point, I felt crushingly tired. The bell had just rung to start the second nightly period of zazen, the lowest of low points for me. My body usually went on strike around eight o’clock, protesting the fact that it had been up since three in the morning. And my mind, helpless to engage in anything even remotely resembling concentration, floated in a gray haze which no amount of yoga, green tea, or fasting had helped to dissipate over the years. So at a certain point I’d given in and decided that in the evenings I’d just sit as still and silent as I could, letting the waves of fatigue wash over me. At least I could rely on the fact that soon I’d be able to go to bed and get a blessed five or six hours of sleep.

Almost dizzy with exhaustion, I sat unmoving on my cushion, willing myself to stay upright. But then, about halfway through the period, something shifted. One moment I was so deep in the fog I barely knew where I was; the next thing I knew, my mind was bright, clear, and as far as I could tell, completely empty of thought. Instead, what filled me to the brim was a slow-spreading feeling of love. Like a drop of ink released into a bowl of water, the feeling started in my chest and gradually extended outward until it completely suffused my body and mind. Then it kept growing. It filled the zendo, enveloping the hundred or so sitters around me doing zazen in neat rows, quiet as trees. It encompassed the building, the snow-covered field that surrounded it, and the mountain rising in the distance. It grew and grew until I felt myself to be a dot in an ocean of love so vast, and at once so gentle and so fierce, that it was overwhelming. It did overwhelm me. It overwhelmed me until I couldn’t find myself anymore.

The bell rang to mark the end of the period, and I felt everyone stir around me. A woman cleared her throat and a few others echoed her. My neighbor sat with his knees drawn up to his chin and carefully massaged his legs while rotating one foot in circles. I stood up slowly, and as the instrumentalist began to ring the bell for the bows, I realized with a start that we were done for the day. I’d sat through walking meditation and the last zazen period without noticing. I didn’t even feel tired anymore.

That was the first time I thought of love as the ground of being, the first time I clearly felt that emptiness is not empty at all, but is filled with love. You just have to love them was the simplest, most direct instruction Hogen could have given me. It was also the truest. If ignorance keeps the wheel of samsara turning, wisdom shows us that love is the true fuel of creation, the universe’s prime mover.

Radiating kindness over the entire world:
Spreading upwards to the skies,
And downwards to the depths;
Outwards and unbounded,
Freed from hatred and ill-will.

When the monks had learned the Karaniya Metta Sutta from the Buddha, they returned to their grove and did as their teacher had instructed. Day and night they chanted its words and reflected on their meaning, and when the tree-dwelling devas heard the sutra, their hearts were suffused with love. They asked the monks to sit at the base of the trees and assured them that from that moment on, the devas themselves would protect them.

“No harm can ever befall a person who follows the path of metta,” says Acharya Buddharakkhita in his commentary to the sutra. This is love as protection.

Don’t worry, the Buddha said. Love the weak or strong. Love the great or the small, the seen and the unseen, those living near and far away. Love them as you love yourself. Love them unconditionally, whether you think you’re capable of it or not. This kind of love has nothing to do with ability. It has nothing to do with anything other than itself.

To me, this teaching said: Forget about things done or left to do. Forget about deadlines and milestones, profits and quotas. Those will be taken care of—they always are. So don’t worry. Whenever a being appears in front of you, just love them. That is your focus. That’s where the real work lies.

The post Just Love Them appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

When we start to meditate or to work with any kind of spiritual discipline, we often think that somehow we’re going to improve, which is a subtle aggression against who we really are. It’s a bit like saying, “If I jog, I’ll be a much better person.” “If I had a nicer house, I’d be a better person.” “If I could meditate and calm down, I’d be a better person.” Or the scenario may be that we find fault with others. We might say, “If it weren’t for my husband, I’d have a perfect marriage.” “If it weren’t for the fact that my boss and I can’t get on, my job would be just great.” And, “If it weren’t for my mind, my meditation would be excellent.”

But lovingkindness—maitri (Pali, metta)—toward ourselves doesn’t mean getting rid of anything. Maitri means that we can still be crazy, we can still be angry. We can still be timid or jealous or full of feelings of unworthiness. Meditation practice isn’t about trying to throw ourselves away and become something better. It’s about befriending who we are already. The ground of practice is you or me or whoever we are right now, just as we are. That’s what we come to know with tremendous curiosity and interest.

Curiosity involves being gentle, precise, and open—actually being able to let go and open. Gentleness is a sense of good-heartedness toward ourselves. Precision is being able to see clearly, not being afraid to see what’s really there. Openness is being able to let go and to open. When you come to have this kind of honesty, gentleness, and good-heartedness, combined with clarity about yourself, there’s no obstacle to feeling lovingkindness for others as well.

Why Meditate?

As a species, we should never underestimate our low tolerance for discomfort. To be encouraged to stay with our vulnerability is news that we can use. Sitting meditation is our support for learning how to do this. Sitting meditation, also known as mindfulness-awareness practice, is the foundation of bodhicitta training. [Bodhicitta is the wish to attain enlightenment and to bring all beings to the same awakened state]. It is the home ground of the warrior bodhisattva.

Sitting meditation gives us a way to move closer to our thoughts and emotions and to get in touch with our bodies. It is a method of cultivating unconditional friendliness toward ourselves and for parting the curtain of indifference that distances us from the suffering of others. It is our vehicle for learning to be a truly loving person.

Gradually, through meditation, we begin to notice that there are gaps in our internal dialogue. In the midst of continually talking to ourselves, we experience a pause, as if awakening from a dream. We recognize our capacity to relax with the clarity, the space, the open-ended awareness that already exists in our minds. We experience moments of being right here that feel simple, direct, and uncluttered.

This coming back to the immediacy of our experience is training in unconditional, or absolute, bodhicitta. By simply staying here, we relax more and more into the open dimension of our being. It feels like stepping out of a fantasy and discovering simple truth.

The Six Points of Posture:

Sitting meditation begins with good posture. Awareness of the six points of posture is a way to be really relaxed and settled in our body. Here are the instructions:

• Seat: Whether you’re sitting on a cushion on the floor or in a chair, the seat should be flat, not tilting to the right or left, or to the back or front.

• Legs: The legs are crossed comfortably in front of you—or, if you’re sitting in a chair, the feet are flat on the floor, with the knees a few inches apart.

• Torso: The torso (from the head to the seat) is upright, with a strong back and an open front. If sitting in a chair, it’s best not to lean back. If you start to slouch, simply sit upright again.

• Hands: The hands are open, with palms down, resting on the thighs.

• Eyes: The eyes are open, indicating the attitude of remaining awake and relaxed with all that occurs. The eye gaze is slightly downward and directed about 4 to 6 feet in front of you.

• Mouth: The mouth is very slightly open so that the jaw is relaxed and air can move easily through both the mouth and nose. The tip of the tongue can be placed on the roof of the mouth.

Each time you sit down to meditate, check your posture by running through these six points. Anytime you feel distracted, bring your attention back to your body and these six points of posture.

⧫

From Comfortable with Uncertainty © 2002 by Pema Chödrön and Emily Hilburn Sell. Reprinted in arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Inc. Boulder, CO. www.shambhala.com

This article was originally published on March 21, 2018

The post Nothing to (Im)prove appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

I prepare myself for metta meditation by imagining a little kitten. I like cats, especially kittens, so my imaginary kitten is to lovingkindness as gas is to a flame. I need only to think of my little kitten and my heart lights up with metta.

I continue to visualize my imaginary friend, picturing it as abandoned, hungry, and very afraid. In its short span of life it has known only rejection, violence, and loneliness. I imagine its bones sticking out from its emaciated body, its fur soiled with grime and some blood, and its body rigid with terror. I consider that if I don’t care for this vulnerable little being then no one will, and it will die such a horrible, lonely, terrified death. I feel that kitten’s pain fully, in all its forms, and my heart opens up, releasing a flood of compassion. I will care for that little kitten. I will protect it and feed it. I imagine myself looking deeply into its anxious eyes, trying to melt its apprehension with the metta flowing through my own eyes. I reach out to it slowly, reassuringly, never losing eye contact. Gently, I pick up that little kitten and bring it to my chest. I remove the kitten’s cold with the warmth from my own body, I take away its fear with the softness of my embrace, and I feel the kitten’s trust grow. I speak to the kitten on my chest:

“Little being, never feel alone again. Never feel so afraid. I will always look after you, be your protector and friend. I love you, little kitten. Wherever you go, whatever you do, my heart will always welcome you. I give you my limitless lovingkindness always.”

When I do this, I feel my kitten become warm, relax, and finally purr.

This is but an outline of how I begin my meditation on metta. I usually take much more time. I use my imagination and inner speech to paint a picture in my mind, to create a scenario where the first flames of metta can arise.

At the end of the mental exercise, my eyes still closed, I focus the attention on the region around my heart and feel the first warm glow of the emotion of kindfulness.

♦

Excerpted from Kindfulness by Ajahn Brahm© 2016 Buddhist Society of Western Australia. Reprinted by arrangement with Wisdom Publications, Inc., wisdompubs.org.

This article was originally published in 2017.

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We don’t need an ideal society or a perfect world to practice loving-friendliness. We aren’t practicing to save the world or make it perfect. We practice for ourselves, for our own peace and well-being. Any effects beyond that are byproducts. If the focus is outside ourselves, we will never succeed. But fortunately, our own well-being is intimately bound up with the well-being of others; so truly practicing metta  (loving-friendliness) for our own benefit does benefit others.

In the Discourse on the Benefits of Loving-Friendliness (Metta Nisamsa Sutta), the Buddha lists 11 benefits derived from practicing metta—and I might add that many of these benefits are being confirmed by contemporary scientific research!

Here is the Buddha’s list:

1. You sleep well.
When you go to bed feeling loving-friendliness toward yourself and others, you will be relaxed and will sleep peacefully.

2. You wake up feeling well.
When you get a good night’s sleep, you wake up feeling rested and relaxed. With a relaxed mind and body, you are able to connect with family, friends, relatives, neighbors, and even strangers in a genuine and centered way. You feel fresh, uplifted, and joyful all day.

3. You’re not likely to have nightmares.
When you practice metta, you become solid enough to face whatever arises. And in fact, the Buddha said it’s unlikely you’ll have nightmares when you practice metta.

4. Your body relaxes and your face is joyful.
Your body reflects your mind. When you feel love for all beings, it shows on your face. Seeing your honest, relaxed face, others will gravitate toward you and enjoy being around you.

5. Even animals and celestial beings feel drawn to you.
When you practice metta, your mind generates a peaceful field around you. Children especially are tuned in to this energy—and non-humans feel it too!

One day I was walking my dog, Brown, and a couple came toward us. The woman kneeled down to Brown’s level and talked to him.

He wagged his tail and became affectionate with her. The man was frightened, and Brown growled at him.

6. Spirits protect you.
There are times we feel guided and protected by beings beyond our sight. Recognizing this as a kind of grace is a source of serenity. Whether it’s literally true or there is some other energy that gives us this sense of guidance and protection, the Buddha included this among the benefits of practicing metta.

7. Fire, poisons, and weapons will not harm you.
When we read stories of old, many of the elements are symbolic or mythic. The Buddha shared tales of adepts who practiced metta and were protected from fire, poisons, and weapons. He explained that greed, hatred, and delusion are the fires, the poisons, and the weapons against which metta protects us.

In the Fire Sermon (Aditta Pariyaya Sutta), the Buddha said that poison is of three kinds—greed, hatred, and delusion. These weapons, like daggers, he said, can cut your peace into pieces. In the Numerical Discourses of the Buddha, the Buddha described bodily, verbal, and mental weapons. In the Udana, he said, “They quarrel, squabble, and argue with each other, stabbing each other with verbal daggers: ‘This is dharma. That is not.’” In the Dhammapada, the Buddha said, “There is no fire like greed, no misfortune like hatred, no suffering like delusion, and no greater happiness than peace.”

In a well-known story about the power of metta, Uttara, a devoted follower of the Buddha, was bereft. She had been given in marriage to a man who did not have high regard for the Buddha, and so she hadn’t seen the Buddha or his disciples for two and a half months. She was feeling forlorn, and her father suggested she hire a courtesan to serve her husband while she joined the Buddha and his community for the final two weeks of their rainy-season retreat. Uttara agreed and was able to serve the Buddha and his disciples as a cook and attend his teachings.

One day as he was looking out the window of his mansion, Uttara’s husband saw her working in the retreat kitchen wearing a stained apron and thought it pathetic she was attending the retreat rather than indulging in the luxuries of life with him. Noticing his disdain for his wife, Sirima, the courtesan, began plotting to harm Uttara so she herself could become the man’s wife. Sirima boiled some ghee and left the house to splash it on Uttara.

When Uttara saw the courtesan coming to harm her, she meditated on loving-friendliness and remained completely at peace.

At the same time, Uttara’s maidservants also saw this foul deed unfolding and ran to stop Sirima. The maids tackled Sirima and began to pummel her but Uttara intervened to save her attacker.

After that, Uttara bathed Sirima in warm water and massaged her body with herbs and oil to soothe her wounds. Sirima fell to the ground and begged Uttara’s forgiveness. Uttara said she would forgive Sirima if the Buddha advised it.

The next day, Sirima asked the Buddha to forgive what she had tried to do. The Buddha asked Uttara how she felt as Sirima was pouring boiling ghee on her, and Uttara responded, “I was grateful to Sirima for serving my husband so I could spend two weeks with the noble community. I had no ill will toward her, only loving-friendliness.” The Buddha commended her, “Well done, Uttara. By not bearing ill will, you were able to conquer the one who abuses you. By being generous, you conquered the one who is stingy. By speaking the truth, you conquered one who lies.” Upon the advice of the Buddha, Uttara forgave Sirima, and Sirima took refuge in the Buddha.

In another story, the Buddha told of Culasiva Thera, who was not at all affected by poison because of his profound practice of metta. A Dhammapada commentary tells of four novice monks whose practice of loving-friendliness was so profound they were unaffected by a weapon. Not only were disciples of the Buddha protected by metta, but in one story a cow was spared being shot with an arrow because of her love and affection nursing her calf.

The Buddha taught that the six senses—seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching, and cognizing—are on fire. Any one of them is sufficient to consume us. The antidote, he taught, is to know reality.

Be mindful and see how sensations and states affect you. Think of your own experience; see how much you burn with the fire of greed, hatred, and delusion, and how much you poison your mind with greed, hatred, and delusion. When you practice metta, your breathing becomes calm and you feel so much love and compassion that your mind naturally wishes all beings to live in peace and harmony.

8. Your mind immediately becomes calm.
Metta stimulates a friendly feeling that makes us calm and happy. It truly is a wonderful way of life!

9. Your complexion brightens.
Metta shows in your face. As you practice metta, joy arises. At first it is barely noticeable, but as the joy increases, it begins to pervade your whole mind and body. Metta does not rely on any particular time, place, or condition. Once aroused, it can remain present in you the rest of your life. Your face cannot hide what is going on in your mind. When you are angry, it shows on your face. When you are peaceful, everyone notices. The energy of metta spreads through your bloodstream and nourishes your whole being. You look bright and clear, calm and peaceful.

10. You’ll die with a clear mind.
The thought of dying peacefully can be comforting. When we have unresolved conflicts, death can be difficult. Loving-friendliness can make dying easier for the one passing away and for those around her.

There is a difference between true peace and the appearance of peace. You may seem cheerful; you might even make people laugh. But when you are approaching death, if greed, hatred, and delusion are still lurking deep down in your psyche, that joviality will vanish. Practicing loving-friendliness sinks into the depths of your consciousness and makes your mind genuinely calm. With metta, you will die peacefully, without confusion.

In the Anguttara Nikaya, Samavati, the wife of the king the Buddha had declared chief among those who practiced metta, was burned alive while leading a loving-friendliness retreat for women. Magandiya was the culprit. So proud of her rare beauty, Magandiya rejected suitor after suitor. One day her father saw the Buddha sitting under a tree and asked him to marry his daughter. The Buddha explained his vow of celibacy and declined in a way that Magandiya found offensive, and she was determined to seek revenge. Magandiya knew that Samavati was one of the Buddha’s favorite laywomen, so she set fire to the house where Samavati was leading a metta retreat for 500 women. They all died in the fire.

As she lay dying, Samavati declared, “Over many lifetimes our bodies have been burned over and over again. As you pass from birth to death and back to birth, be heedful!” Her words were so powerful that the 500 women dying alongside her were inspired to practice metta meditation in their final moments. Although their bodies were burned by fire, their minds were free.

11. You’ll die in peace.
If at the time of death you do not yet comprehend the highest truth, you will still go to a realm of great peace.

If you have not completed the path of awakening before you die, the peaceful mental state generated by metta will still allow you to be reborn in a heavenly realm.

Regardless of whether we consider heaven a real or figurative place, this portends well and encourages us to practice loving-friendliness while we can.

♦

From Loving-Kindness in Plain English: The Practice of Metta, by Bhante Gunaratana (2017). Reprinted by arrangement with Wisdom Publications, Inc., wisdompubs.org

[This story was originally published in 2017]

The post 11 Benefits of Loving-Friendliness Meditation appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Nothing is permanent, so everything is precious. Here’s a selection of some happenings—fleeting or otherwise—in the Buddhist world this week.

Sharon Salzberg Suffers Health Emergency

Beloved meditation teacher Sharon Salzberg went through a “major health emergency” this week but is now “stable and on the path to a full recovery,” according to a statement posted on her website. The Real Love author who has played a major role in spreading the practice of metta, or lovingkindness, meditation in the West will be taking “a few months” off from teaching while she focuses on her health. People who are planning to attend one of her upcoming events can check her updated calendar to see if it has canceled.

Salzberg has influenced many people with her teachings, and on social media, many well-wishers sent their love in response to the announcement. Many others who have been touched by Salzberg’s work likely have been sending metta to her, using the traditional four slogans of lovingkindness:

May you be happy.
May you be healthy.
May you be safe.
May you live with ease.

Get well soon, Sharon.

Temple Stays May Be First New Economic Project Between North and South Korea

South Korean President Moon Jae-in said on February 18 that plans to resume tourism to Buddhist temples at North Korea’s Mount Kumgang will be the first new economic project between the countries if they begin cooperating again, the Korea Herald reports. Moon said the temple stays at Singye Temple would be the “easiest” program to start with if sanctions are lifted. Moon made the remarks nine days before President Donald Trump is scheduled to hold a summit with North Korean leader Kim Jong-un in Hanoi, Vietnam. The leaders of South Korea’s largest Buddhist group, the Jogye Order, first initiated the conversations with their Northern counterparts about bringing back the tours of Mount Kumgang earlier this year, according to an announcement on January 16.

China Shuts Down Foreign Travel to Tibet through March

China has closed the Tibetan borders to foreigners ahead of the 60th anniversary of the March 10, 1959 Tibetan Uprising, the Associated Press reports. Tibetan travel agencies confirmed that foreigners would not be allowed into the area until April 1, according to the AP. It is unclear when the order went into effect. The ban also coincides with the March 14, 2008 unrest near Lhasa, when a series of protests in remembrance of the Tibetan Uprising turned violent. China’s policy already requires foreigners traveling to Tibet to obtain special permission in addition to a Chinese visa; journalists and diplomats have been almost entirely denied access in recent years.

US Approves $17 Million for Tibetan Projects

The spending bill signed by President Donald Trump on February 15 contained $17 million in funding for Tibetan causes throughout 2019, according to a press release from the Central Tibetan Administration, Tibet’s government-in-exile. The Consolidated Appropriations Act earmarked $8 million for supporting “activities which preserve cultural traditions and promote sustainable development, education, and environmental conservation” in the Tibet Autonomous Region and other Tibetan communities in China; $6 million to help finance projects for Tibetan communities in India and Nepal; and $3 million to “strengthen the capacity of Tibetan institutions and governance” in exile.

The post Buddha Buzz Weekly: <i>Metta</i> for Sharon Salzberg appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Good news and bad news. The bad news first: No, you do not have special dispensation from the Buddha to murder those obnoxious little rodent and insect pests that are somehow capable of terrorizing beings thousands of times their size, when all they want is a little food, water, and a place to get cozy up with their mates.

The good news is that with a little extra effort, you can rid yourself of these unwelcome guests (ants, mice, cockroaches, fleas, ticks, etc) and feel the karmic joy of living in the light of the dharma!

“Dharma” means truth and the teachings, and it is also the word for nature itself.  The Venerable Narada Mahathera tells us that as nature is the manifestation of truth, and of the teachings, we should cultivate kindness and compassion for all, trying not to kill or cause injury to any living creature, even the tiniest creature that crawls at our feet, and bites them.

Of course precepts, or guidelines for following the dharma, are training principles, and Buddhists undertake to observe them to the best of their abilities.  At times certain conditions may not allow us to rigidly adhere to the precepts and no one can live through life without ever breaking them.  It is at such times that we must use our common sense and human intelligence to make the best decisions. 

Related: Five Precepts of Buddhism Explained 

In Buddhism there is a long held and integral tradition of caring for animals and all living creatures. They are regarded in Buddhist thought as sentient beings, different than humans in their intellectual ability but no less capable of feeling suffering, fearing death, and craving life. Vasubandhu, a 4th century Indian scholar-monk and one of the most prominent figures in Buddhist history, said that it is deluded to kill even poisonous pests, and Asoka, the Buddhist King of India, posted edicts that included a prohibition on the killing of vermin of all kinds.

At the time of the Buddha, rules were made against monks wandering about in the rainy season in part due to the damage done to so many creatures rising to the surface of wet soil for a drink. The same applied to the cutting of trees that were seen as essential to the lives of many animals large and small (known as “breathers”). Asoka planted shade trees, medicinal herbs and wayside wells for both humans and animals. This culture of non-harming, and recognition of the right to life enjoyed by all sentient beings contributes to what makes a monastery or Buddhist temple feel so safe and welcoming to all.

Robert Thurman tells of the great India scholar-monk Asanga from the 5th century CE who had been meditating in a cave for 12 years, unsuccessfully, in order to gain a vision of the Bodhisattva Maitreya, the future Buddha and the embodiment of loving kindness.  One day he saw a stray dog afflicted with maggot infested sores. Fearing that pulling the maggots off the dog would harm them, he expended great effort to coax them off the sore and onto his warm and moist tongue where they could feed on his own flesh.  At this point, both the dog and the maggots disappeared, and a full and splendorous image of Maitreya appeared where the dog had once been.

Meanwhile, just by walking in the forest or breathing the air, we are taking the life of many small creatures. We inadvertently kill hundreds of insects on a nighttime car ride. We wipe out thousands of bacteria, also sentient beings, daily when we shower and brush our teeth and disinfect our homes.  Generally, there has been a strong element of practicality in Buddhism relative to the extent people are expected to go to avoid any and all killing.

This is one way that the Middle Path distinguished itself from Jainism, where the most devoted of followers would shun clothing, wear masks to filter out airborne creatures, and sweep their path before letting their feet touch the ground. The Buddhist approach to ahimsa, or non-harming, in the realm of small animals and microorganisms, was to exercise all reasonable measures to avoid needless or avoidable killing—recognizing that these creatures too want to eat and avoid harm. In fact, humans are not apart from the world of microorganisms, and are made up of many smaller beings living on us and within us.

Related: A Fishy Antidote to a Bloody Sacrifice 

Nevertheless, as Buddhist scholar Brian Peter Harvey explains, to kill or harm another being, whether it is a rat or a cockroach or a horse, is to ignore the fragility and aspiration for happiness that one has in common with it. This violates the dharma of interdependence, and compassion. The Buddha made no distinction between the sizes of the victim (cow or ant) or between intentions in killing (self-defense or hunting for pleasure). However, Buddhism focuses heavily on intention, so that all acts of killing are not necessarily equally blameworthy. However, its stronger emphasis on compassion insures that not harming other beings is always praiseworthy.

The Dalai Lama was once asked about swatting mosquitoes. He chuckled and said that if his mood is good, he will often just let the creature have a little blood.  If another one comes, his patience might become stretched a little thin and he would blow the offending creature off his arm. If yet a third mosquito comes, His Holiness said he is likely to give it a careful little shove off his arm.

Most of the time, the creatures we call pests are attracted to our homes because of food scraps, leftovers, and a lack of cleanliness. So, technically, these small animals have been invited into our homes.

The three basic factors of a Buddhist approach to pests are to prevent, repel, and remove.

First of all, because it is quick, harmless, and vouched for by many Buddhists, one should start the campaign to oust the unwanted critters by standing in their presence and chanting to directly to them, as follows:

May all living beings be well, happy and peaceful.
May no harm come to you.
May no difficulties come to you.
May no problems come to you.
May you always meet with success.
May you have patience, courage, understanding, and determination to meet and overcome inevitable difficulties, problems, and failures in life.
May you also have the wisdom to know that you should leave here immediately, and if not, steps will be taken to remove you.

The next day, or at the end of the same day, take these steps respectively:

Ants

If you have an ant infestation, use your vacuum to quickly get rid of the invaders, and then immediately empty the vacuum bag in the outdoor compost pile or at some distance from your house.

Do not use ant bait, or poison sprays like Raid that continue in the toxic waste stream from their point of manufacture to their ultimate destination in landfills or via runoff or sewage into our waterways and oceans.

It is important to quickly erase the scent trail that the ants have laid down. First, wash with soapy water and then use a citrus-based repellent, or spray countertops and affected areas with a mixture of juiced lemon, tea tree oil, grapefruit seed extract, and a little mint tea.

The key to ant control is cleanliness: wipe up food spills immediately, wipe down food preparation surfaces with soapy water, remove garbage frequently, clean food debris out of sinks, rinse well any dirty dishes left in the sink, and sweep and mop floors regularly.

Store the food most attractive to ants (honey, sugar, sweet liqueurs, cough syrup, etc.) in the fridge or in jars with rubber gaskets and lids that close with a metal clamp, or zip-lock bags. Unless the lid of a screw-top jar has a rubber seal, ants will follow the threads right into the jar. A few layers of waxed paper (not plastic wrap) between the jar and the lid, if screwed down tightly, will work well as a barrier. Transfer other foods, such as cookies, cereals, crackers, etc in paper boxes, to containers with tight-fitting lids or zip locks; and keep butter in the fridge. Paper and cardboard boxes are not ant-proof.

Feed your pet only what it will eat immediately, and then wash the bowl frequently.  If you need to have food on hand available to your pets, put the bowl inside of a larger soup bowl and create a shallow water moat around the bowl.

Keep kitchen scraps in a tightly sealed plastic or metal container. Throw non-recyclable food containers (plastic ice cream cartons, meat wrapping paper, etc.) in an outside trashcan. Wash glass, tin, and aluminum food containers thoroughly before tossing them into an indoor recycling bin.

Use hot soapy water to wipe down kitchen and appliance surfaces where sticky hands or food spills may have left some residue: kitchen counters, floors, cabinet doors and handles, fridge handle, stove knobs, sides of toaster, blender, etc. Immediately mop up food spills and sweep up food crumbs.

Keep ants off the kitchen counters by spraying surfaces with 50:50 solution of vinegar and water.  You can go all the way applying small amounts of cayenne pepper and cinnamon at entry points of large infestations. Scented talcum powder, red chili powder, as well as ground black pepper are reputed to be major inhibitors as well.

Seal as many entry points as possible: weather-strip doors and use caulking to fill gaps in window and door frames and around baseboards, pipes, sinks, toilets, and electrical outlets. Prune trees and shrubs away from exterior walls, to prevent ants using them as a bridge into the house.

Try to cultivate a good relationship with the Daddy-Long-Legs spiders. They are intelligent and make their webs along the ant entry points, usually near the front door and the bathroom window. Let the spiders do their job.

Cockroaches

Cockroaches are among the hardiest insects on the planet. Some species are capable of remaining active for a month without food and are able to survive on limited resources like the glue from the back of postage stamps. Some can go without air for 45 minutes. In one experiment, cockroaches were able to recover from being submerged underwater for half an hour.

If you have cockroaches, then you, or your immediate neighbors, are keeping an unclean household. Cockroaches leave chemical trails in their feces and emit airborne pheromones for swarming and mating. Other cockroaches will follow these trails to discover sources of food and water, and also discover where other cockroaches are hiding. Cockroaches are mainly nocturnal and will run away when exposed to light.

Cockroaches hate the smell of bay leaves. Smash up some bay leaves in a bowl and sprinkle them in the corners of your home where you have seen the cockroaches. It is helpful to do this is the kitchen and in the corners of the kitchen cabinets.

An inexpensive roach trap can easily be made from a deep smooth-walled jar with some roach food inside, placed with the top of the jar touching a wall or with sticks leading up to the top, so that the roaches can reach the opening. Once inside, they cannot climb back out. A bit of Vaseline can be smeared on the inside of the jar to enhance slipperiness. You can then take the jars to a remote location and set the cockroaches free.

Fleas

Fleas come to you via your pets. Put a small plate greased with vaseline under a nightlight. The fleas will be attracted to the light, jump into the plate and get stuck by the vaseline. You have to remove the plates every one to two days– take them outside and sprinkle dirt on the plate so that they will eventually have enough traction to climb out of the plate to freedom. Put a plate in each room that has fleas.

Sprinkle your pet with cornstarch or baking soda. Let it sit, and then brush it off outside. Feeding your pet garlic will help repel fleas, but garlic is toxic to some breeds in small quantities and all breeds in larger quantities; consult with your veterinarian before giving your pet any garlic. If approved by your veterinarian, add chopped raw garlic, and garlic oil, or powder to your pet food in the quantities your vet prescribed. Launder the dog or cat beds in the house on a weekly basis. Put half a teaspoon cider vinegar in your cat’s water dish for three days.

It can take 3 to 6 weeks for flea eggs to hatch. Once you have taken care of fleas on your pets, thoroughly clean your home environment of any fleas and flea eggs. If there is a serous outbreak, your pet may be unwell, or poorly nourished. You may need to give your pet internal medicine that repels the fleas.

Mice/Rats

Along the central coast of California where I live, you either have cats or rats.  Get a cat or two, if possible. Females tend to be better mousers or rat-eaters. They can live in the garage at night, and have free run of your yard in the daytime.  If they are semi-feral, all the better. Lure them into the garage at night with just a little food, and they will be slightly hungry most of the time, and eager to search for rodents.  It is not realistic to expect that your content well-fed house-cat is going to suddenly become a mouse hunter. 

If you have mice, use Humane No-Kill Mousetraps, available on the web, and at veganessentials.com.  My favorite is the Catchmaster Repeater Humane Mouse Trap which is also easily available on the web. Check them frequently, and using gloves, dispose of the mice as far from the house as conveniently possible. If electronic mouse repellers that use ultrasonic noises were effective, mice would be rare.

A mouse will eat almost anything, but they prefer cereal grains, seeds, or sweet material. They require very little water, obtaining most of their water needs from their food.  They multiply rapidly and are most easily detectable by their rod shaped droppings (feces) –about 1/8-1/4 inches long. Mice may contaminate your food supply with their feces and urine.

House mice or rats gnaw through electrical wiring, causing fires and failure of freezers, clothes dryers and other appliances. Rodents can carry a wide variety of diseases transmissible to humans. A very real problem with the infestation of mice is the Hantavirus and Salmonella. Always wear intact rubber or plastic gloves when removing rodents and when cleaning or disinfecting items contaminated by rodents.

For those with serious or frequent infestations, invest in a UV Rodent Tracker, an industrial grade professional UV LED light. This UV light is able to detect the presence of urine, making rodent inspection easier and more efficient.

Close all openings through which they can enter a structure, and seal cracks and openings in building foundations and openings for water pipes, vents and utilities. Prevent mice from chewing or pulling out patching compounds by making sure patching materials are smooth on the surface. Be sure doors, windows and screens fit tightly. All food that is stored, processed or used should be made mouse-proof. (See section on ants).

With a little work, and easy maintenance following, you can be rodent-free indefinitely.

Ticks

Ticks had a PR problem with humans long before the big news about Lyme disease. They want our blood and their bites are enduringly painful.  This is one of the most challenging pests to contend with, as the desire to make ticks an exception to the “Do Not Kill” precept can be understandably strong.  Getting them off of yourself and your pets is hard enough, and then what do you do with them?  Their fluids are toxic to humans. 

The good news is there is a safe way to dispose of ticks without killing them—or risking their return.  After you have removed the tick from its host, using magic tape only, tape the tick(s) to a sheet of paper, and toss the paper into the compost.  Ticks, as our luck would have it, can live without motion or nourishment for weeks. By the time the tick has spent a few nights in the compost heap, the paper and tape decompose just enough to free the animal.

Bugs on Plants (aphids. etc)

As a preventative, add peppermint essential oil mixed with a little water in a mister bottle and spray directly on your plants.  On sight of aphids or other plant bearing bugs, wash the foliage with insect soap, and then maintain by spraying the peppermint solution regularly.  The greatest guarantee, aside from cleanliness, may be metta meditation.  Learn the lines and then you can substitute yourself and your loved ones and gradually larger groups until the entire circle of life is included. I don’t know anyone who practices metta who has a pest problem.  

For further compassionate solutions, contact the Bio-Integral Resource Center (BIRC). 

Correction (3/21/2019): A previous version of this article advised feeding pets limited quantities garlic to repel fleas; the article has been updated to reflect garlic’s toxicity to pets in certain circumstances, and recommend consulting with a veterinarian. 

[This story was originally published in 2011]

The post How to Get Rid of Pests and Bugs the Buddhist Way appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Aung San Suu Kyi’s “Survival of the Fittest”

In “Who Is the Real Aung San Suu Kyi” (Spring 2018), Joe Freeman offers a comprehensive attempt to understand why Suu Kyi is the way she is now.

In reality she isn’t a democrat, much less a universal human rights defender. She has abandoned the Rohingya and other ethnic nationalities in favor of the Tatmadaw [the armed forces of Myanmar] and populist, racist tendencies. For now, she seems to be muddling through with the hope that she can outplay the Tatmadaw by biding her time.

—Sai Wansai
Uetersen, Germany

Toeing the Line between Buddhism and Therapy

I agree with C. W. Huntington, Jr. (“Are You Looking to Buddhism When You Should Be Looking to Therapy?” Spring 2018) that we ought to differentiate the goals of Buddhist-inspired psychotherapy from the goals of Buddhism. Psychotherapy aims to create well-adjusted human beings, while Buddhism aims at something far more profound and unconditional. I wonder, however, if it’s possible to make this distinction in practice.

If we take the insight maps as accurate representations of the progress of insight, some people’s psychological distress can be a result of run-of-the-mill suffering (dukkha), mental illness (nana), or both. Personally, I have found that some of my deep-rooted psychological problems were resolved by Vipassana meditation.

“Buddhist teachings remind us that we will never achieve real or lasting satisfaction by adopting a different, better way of thinking or acting,” the author writes, but I’ve often thought this nonengagement with the content of thought and behavior can lead to all sorts of needless suffering, however relative it may be. It’s also a lot easier to reach those states of jhana [meditative concentration] that are ultimately unsatisfactory (yet an essential part of the eightfold path), when you are not anxious or depressed or otherwise preoccupied with mental illness. Could it be that the psychological and the transpersonal are so intertwined that they cannot be separated?

—Duff McDuffee
Boulder, Colorado

We’re concerned that the recent article on dharma practice and psychotherapy by C. W. Huntington fails to adequately address the unconscious dynamics that so often manifest as obstructive forces in the midst of formal practice and our everyday life.

Perhaps it’s true that as long as practice remains at more superficial levels, it isn’t so difficult to draw distinctions between a psychotherapeutic approach and dharma work. Our experience, however, has been that the deeper we go, the more difficult it becomes to disentangle one from the other.

What we’ve found is that penetrating, nondual practices activate the whole of the psyche and in this process bring our unresolved issues closer to conscious awareness. As this happens, the influence of these forces becomes magnified such that we experience the consequences of this mobilization, but without dealing with the underlying causes.

We’ve also seen that deepening practice not only stirs up these forces; it’s also often used to push them back down. Misusing practice in this way comes at a real cost—both to ourselves and others—and is no doubt part of the dynamic playing itself out through the unethical behavior of so many spiritual teachers.

Since these unconscious dynamics are often linked to early disrupted attachments, they inevitably affect our practice, on the mat and in our relationships. As long as practice fails to address the whole of the psyche, it will, at best, be of only limited value.

We feel it’s imperative to continue to find ways to understand and work with the unique features of the unconscious in the midst of practice, so that this dharma will be more effective in relieving suffering and awakening the heart of the bodhisattva.

—Lawson Sachter and Sunya Kjolhede
Co-abbots, Windhorse Zen Community
Alexander, North Carolina

Disappointing Democracy

I was thrilled when I started to read James Kierstead’s “Democratic from the Start” (Spring 2018), but as I read further into it, my optimism faded. I thought, When will the author get to the crux of this “transmission” problem, namely the absolute lack of power extended to half of humankind—the female meditators?

This piece is written as if the sangha were an exclusive all-male club (which it is) and not a sincere egalitarian democratic construct (which it should be). How can a modern Western male meditator justify not mentioning the highly problematic, intrinsic, and yes, dare I say it, undemocratic culture of misogyny that Buddhist circles are so steeped in here in the West?

—Lára Martin
Reykjavík, Iceland

The Author Responds

I’m quite grateful to Lára for raising this important issue. In this piece I was focusing on evidence for democratic decision-making practices (such as majority voting) in the Buddhist tradition. Of course, another very important question is who should be part of the group of voters in the first place.

My own personal answer to this is “all comers.” I’m happy to see that more and more practice groups are taking this approach and choosing to let go of some of the more patriarchal practices that have been a feature of some Buddhist cultures of the past.

We still have some way to go, but it’s my view that adopting more democratic decision-making practices within inclusive communities can only help us move closer to an ideal where all members can have a say in how their groups are run and organized (or, perhaps, in who runs them).

—James Kierstead

Metta for Monsters

I’ve practiced metta for difficult people, and yes, it has made me a better person. My improved behavior has sometimes affected the difficult person’s behavior as well. But try as I may, I fail to see how loving Hitler or other genocidal monsters improves either the world or myself, as Andrew Oldendzki seems to suggest in “No Exceptions” (Spring 2018). Indeed, it seems to risk being “soft” on racism and other doctrines of hate. I keep hoping someone will show me how this actually works in the real world, but Olendzki’s essay fails miserably to address this issue.

—David Whiteside
Ventura, California

The Author Responds

My goal is not to show how the practice of lovingkindness works, but to clarify the teaching as found in the early Buddhist texts. Among these teachings is the clear statement that hatred is never successfully challenged by more hate. In this case, I think the demonstration of how it works is to be found in your first sentence. It’s not that “loving monsters” either reforms or empowers them, but only that it prevents you from getting dragged down by them.

—Andrew Olendzki

As I see it, referring to someone as a “jerk” or a “monster” happens because of a lack of lovingkindness. Think of it this way: jerks and monsters were subjected to various causes and conditions that led to their behavior. If we try to carefully understand the causes and conditions that led these people to commit certain crimes, then perhaps we can understand them better and extend lovingkindness to them with the wish “May they be free from anger and hatred.”

If the Buddha had classified the serial killer Angulimala as a “monster” and avoided him, Angulimala’s transformation from murderer to monk would never have happened.

—Nandini Karunamuni
Edmonton, Alberta

CORRECTIONS:

“Cutting Through False Narratives” (Spring 2018) stated that Nalanda thrived for about 700 years after the Mughal invasion. It continued for about 100 years.

“Who’s Got Good News?” (Spring 2018) mistitled Steven Pinker’s book The Better Angels of Our Nature. It is not The Angels of Our Better Nature.

We regret the errors.

The post Letters to the Editor appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.