Week 13b: Lovingkindness

I did not realize when I began this journey that there is a rift in American Buddhism.  It has to do with mindfulness: who can have it, how much is enough, and how it is used.  In one camp are those who espouse mindfulness-based stress relief (UMASS), mindfulness-based emotional intelligence (Google), or other teachers who believe directed attention towards ‘real-world’ situations and the thoughtful action that results can reduce suffering and make the world a better place, with even a little better than none.  The other camp believes these practices dilute or corrupt the dharma, and should be discredited in all but the narrowest of applications.  My desire to use the teachings to help my friends with survivor guilt (and others with PTSD), I had placed myself smack in the middle of this debate.

Memorial Day is the day we as a nation have set aside to honor military members who have given their lives for their country.  This is a conflicted time for me,  Yes, before Kevin was killed this weekend heralded the advent of summer, and was usually packed with barbecues and festivities.  Since his passing, it has been much more thoughtful and introspective.  This year decided to try something new: instead of spending these days on trail, or raising a glass of The Good Captain, I would spend the weekend with Sharon Salzburg and her teachings on Lovingkindness.

Sharon is a jolly soul.  She is one of a group of westerners who brought Buddhism to the west during the 1960s and 1970s.  In her case, she took a semester off when she was 18 to study with a teacher in India.  When she returned five years later, it was with Jack Cornfield and Joseph Goldstein to found the Insight Meditation Society in Barre Massachusetts.  The practice she is most known for, lovingkindness practice, is the process of letting go of judgment and being kind to ourselves and others.

Sharon began the retreat by admitting the practice had seemed silly when her teacher had first introduced it years ago, but that over time she came to see that it works. After several amusing anecdotes she introduced the practice: breathing in “May all beings be happy”, breathing out “May all beings be peaceful and safe.”  In again “May all beings be healthy,” and out again “May all beings live with ease.” We spent an interval practicing this on the cushion, first visualizing ourselves as we practiced, then someone who brings us joy, then someone we are neutral to (or don’t know well or at all, like someone we see on the train every day), then someone we have aversion towards.  Then we expanded our lovingkindness to all beings in the world, and closed with ourselves again.  I am surprised that the narrow band of faces that appear before me during the visualizations, the same five or six that came to mind while on the cushion in Connecticut.  I wonder if maybe I need to get out more, or at least spread the wealth.

DSCN2177We then take the practice outside.  The instruction is to walk, pacing the practice with our steps instead of our breath.  If something catches our attention, such as a bird, send it lovingkindness then return to the practice.  I select what seems the easiest suggestion, “happy” with my left foot and “peaceful” with my right, and head out to explore the trails of the park next door.  In the beginning my steps are slow, zendo pace, but I soon shift to my normal trail pace with the thought I can etch the words in to everyday walking or hiking.  Along the way I bless the stream, many trees, and the swings and slide at the playground.

DSCN2174 DSCN2166At lunch I am graced with an open chair to Sharon’s left.  After some silence, giving someone else the opportunity to bask in her wisdom, I jump in.  During the drive from Marin I had been pondering the Stanford Prison experiment.  For those not familiar, this was the protocol researchers at Stanford designed to explore the idea of bureaucracy of evil during which a group of college-age students, many of them active in the anti-Vietnam-war protests of the day, were randomly assigned to be a guard or prisoner and asked to play their roles in a simulated prison environment.  The ‘guards’ quickly became so aggressive towards the ‘prisoners’ that the expected two-week protocol was halted after five days.  Many dharma centers have prison outreach programs, where they counsel and teach mindfulness to inmates.  My question began with how prison outreach groups have great compassion for those trapped in the prison system but often demonize those enforcing it, despite the fact these are two sides of the same coin.  This led to a broad discussion at our table regarding how institutions can create suffering for all involved. At some point I mentioned my desire to deepen my practice to help friends and other vets afflicted with PTSD.  I mentioned accident investigators, and the secondary and vicarious suffering they experience during their work. I mention that when my co-workers discovered I would be studying meditation, several asked me to come back and teach them what I learned.  Sharon suggested I become a Mindfulness-Based Stress Relief trainer.  And isn’t it great, she said, that I have the credibility to bring the teachings to these communities.  I beamed, inside and out.

I am sure there was more to the retreat after this, the usual ‘mindfulness isn’t about what is happening, it is about how we relate to what is happening’ or ‘we don’t practice to be great meditators, we practice to have a more balanced, connected and aware life.’  But I was on Cloud Ten: Sharon liked my idea, and she liked it so much she gave me direction.  I spent my free time googling the process and investigating the prerequisites.

Sharon closed the retreat with a story about the first time she really saw lovingkindness practice work.  It was in the 1970s, during the week before she taught her first retreat.  They were ahead of schedule, had a few extra days (bonus meditation time), and she decided to perform the practice towards herself.  On the last day she went to the washroom, and somehow a large glass bottle of soap slipped through her hands and shattered on the floor.  “You are such a klutz,” her inner dictator dutifully informed her, quickly followed by a new voice: “…. but I love you.”  With this encouragement for us to be kinder to ourselves, the weekend is over.  And, for the first time, I really think I can do it.

Happy.  Peace.

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