By: Bob Zeglovitch
We generally think of mettā as something that results from a specific practice, like repeating the mettā phrases. Of course, it is that. However, mettā can also arise without our directed intention, sometimes as a fruit of our meditation and dharma practice. It is good to know this and to be open to recognizing mettā when it arises organically in this way.
On a lengthy retreat that I did in Lumbini, Nepal under the direction of Sayadaw U Vivekananda, in the Burmese Vipassana tradition of Mahasi Sayadaw, I had an experience that put this in high relief for me. The retreat was focused on the development of insight, with the meditation instructions beginning with the close observation of the rise and fall of the abdomen, and progressing from there in various ways to the arising and passing away of all phenomena, seeing dukkha (suffering), impermanence and not-self in visceral ways. I met every other day with the Sayadaw (teacher) and on every other day with his assistant, a Burmese nun named Sayalay Bhadda Manika. At each meeting, I made very specific reports on my meditation experiences, based on notes that I was keeping as instructed. The Sayadaw “charted” my development in a notebook he kept for all the meditators, and adjusted the meditation instructions accordingly. It was a challenging practice that led to various striking and first-time experiences for me—not to mention a great deal of physical and mental discomfort. All of these experiences were necessary, integral and important components of the progression of insight in this particular tradition. One of the unusual and challenging experiences is understood in this tradition as the insight knowledge of fear. This is an experience of dukkha, related to a direct perception of the radical impermanence of all phenomena, and is important to this story.
There was no explicit mettā practice during the retreat, with the exception of a beautiful mettā chant that we sang at the end of each long day. On the 28th day of the retreat, not too long after I had gone through the dukkha insight experience of fear, the Sayadaw gave me a list of ten things to pay close attention, one of which was to check my relationship to other retreatants, whether it was loving-kindness or other states. He made clear that I was not to try to manufacture anything. In fact, another one of the things that he told me to keep an eye out for was that at this point was any change to my mental state that was on the unwholesome side, noting that I should be mindful of it and not take it personally.
As was the case on numerous other occasions during my retreats with him, on this day Sayadaw Vivekananda knew exactly where my mind was and where it was headed. This was due to his skill in guiding meditators but also because of the natural and “lawful” progression of this style of practice. It was quite uncanny.
Just before I had my interview with him, I had noticed that my attitude toward my fellow retreatants had changed—I had new feelings of warmth toward them, noticed that I was going out of my way to be accommodating to others, and also that I had a clear sense of sympathetic joy (mudita) toward other retreatants and their apparent progress on the path (based on their questions after the dharma talks). Shortly after my interview, I saw a fellow retreatant on the walking path. I knew nothing about her, but instantly and spontaneously knew that the one thing we shared in common was dukkha, and my heart naturally and without effort opened to her.
This is simply one example of how mettā can arise on its own as a result of practice. You don’t have to be immersed in an intensive retreat for a month in a practice like this for mettā to emerge. This instance sticks out for me because it was an unusual experience and because it tracked so elegantly with a very skilled teacher’s guidance and knowledge about the unfolding that occurs with this practice. The mind of mettā can emerge from in different practice settings and under different circumstances and at any time. The main point that I want to make is that even when we are not pursuing mettā as an explicit practice, we can simply be mindful of our relationships with others, to see if this quality of mind is present. It is important not to miss mettā if it arises—and our mindfulness of it will enhance its impact.