The next Saturday, I took my father to the ER for Covid, and I never held him again till I held his ashes. Throughout those days when grief and helplessness enveloped me, I leaned deep into my nature-meditation experiences. I remembered how trees survive storms. I remembered the groundedness of the earth holding me. I remembered the loving nature of the universe. When my family asked how I was holding up, I answered, thinking about trees, “Roots go deeper; feet stand firmer.”

Six months later, in the Hudson Valley, I picked a big tree that had fallen right next to the trail. I spent time sensing the tree and holding it, as if it were my dad’s body lying in the hospital. I sensed love from the tree and my love for it/him. I said my prayers in tears, feeling my dad’s spirit there with me.

What is tree meditation? It is a practice described by Mark Coleman in his book Awake in the Wild, of spending time with a tree with attention and reverence. This is my interpretation of how to do it, integrating others’ perspectives as well.

Be Called to a Tree

Notice where you are standing in your environment, tune in to the body first, and sense if there is a tree that you find interesting to connect with. Follow your curiosity.

As you first approach, take in the whole tree from a distance, noticing its height, shape, and how it fits in with its environment.

Sense the Tree Up Close

Slowly approach the tree and look at the tree from root to canopy. Shunryu Suzuki said, “As soon as you see something, you already start to intellectualize it. As soon as you intellectualize something, it is no longer what you saw.” Try to look at the tree as shape, texture, colors as you were seeing it for the first time.

Feel into the environment of the tree and its whole mini-ecosystem. What does this tree smell like? Can you smell the scents of bark and leaves? What do you hear standing in front of this tree? Birdsong? Leaves rustling? Insects?
Feel any moss or ferns or lichen that may be living on the tree. Be aware that you are visiting the home of animals. Be careful not to instill fear in them. Humans are perceived as predators.

Interact with the Tree

A tree is a living being. Just as you wouldn’t hug a stranger without permission, first introduce yourself to a tree and ask permission before you interact with it. Out loud or silently, state your name and purpose for visiting the tree. Get a felt sense if the tree is okay with you interacting with it. If yes, then go ahead. If not, say thanks, gently turning your attention to another tree.

Check in with your body and sense how you may want to interact with the tree, or how it may want you to be with it. Perhaps you want to ask for support from it. Perhaps you want to ask it a question. Perhaps you simply want to lean against the tree and rest. Listen to your body and let it guide you.

Interacting with a tree is an energetic exchange. You may want to hug the tree. You can sit at the roots, or you can lie down and rest your head on or between the roots and look up at the canopy. Feel if there’s a sense of exchange between you and the tree.

Touch different parts of the tree—roots, bark, leaves. Close your eyes and rub these different parts against your face and hands. Can you feel the roughness of the bark and sense what the tree has gone through to survive? The sense of touch is particularly helpful for connecting with the tree. The moment you touch the tree, does anything shift inside your body? What sensations arise?

Stay a Little Longer

You might be compelled to move on, but stay. See how the full connections develop. Notice the quality of impatience, resistance, or boredom. Feel whatever is arising, take a breath, and resume this meditation.

One helpful quality to bring to this practice is beginner’s mind, a sense of curiosity and openness. If you are a one-year-old child seeing a tree for the first time, what would you see? How would you interact and connect with it? There is no right or wrong experience. Just be with what arises.

At the end of spending time with the tree, express your gratitude by giving it some water or a bow or any kind of gesture (verbal or nonverbal) that allows you to show your thanks for its support.

May a tree bless you and sustain you.

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While there are many variations of this practice, this simple version is common to many Buddhist traditions and is a mainstay of the secular mindfulness movement. It is a foundation of the path to enlightenment and offers immediate benefits to our health, happiness, and well-being.

Sit cross-legged on a meditation cushion or on a straight-backed chair. The important thing is to be upright, grounded, and relaxed. With your eyes open, let your gaze rest comfortably as you look slightly downward about six inches in front of you. Place your attention continuously on each in-breath and out-breath, while also remaining aware of the environment around you.

Gently note when you have been distracted by thoughts, without criticizing yourself, and return your attention to the breath. In this practice, thoughts are not judged as good or bad. You simply acknowledge them and return to the breath.

2. Mixing Mind and Space

This is mindfulness of breath with a Vajrayana flavor. It is attributed to Gampopa, a founder of the Kagyu lineage, and was the main meditation practice taught in the West by Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche. It combines mindfulness or concentration with the open awareness of such practices as Dzogchen and shikantaza.

Place your attention on the out-breath as in the previous practice. Let your attention go out with the breath and dissolve into the space around you. Rest your mind in that open space or gap without placing your attention on the in-breath.

Place your attention again on the next out-breath, following it out and mixing your mind with space as it dissolves. Rest in that open awareness. Continue meditating in this way.

3. Tonglen

Tonglen, which means “taking and sending,” is a visualization practice using the breath to expand our compassion. It reverses the way ego usually operates. When we put ourselves first, we try to take in what’s good for us and send away what causes suffering. When we put others first, we do the opposite—we take in their suffering and send out our happiness. This is the living action of bodhichitta—the enlightened heart–mind of the buddhas—that is cultivated in tonglen.

Taking our meditation posture, we begin the practice with the in-breath, visualizing that we are taking in the suffering of others as a thick, black, hot cloud. We may visualize this cloud striking our heart and destroying our selfishness. On the out-breath, we then visualize that we are sending out all that is good to others in the form of a white, cooling cloud that eases their fear and suffering.

As we continue this visualization, we expand our compassion from those close to us, to those we are indifferent to, to those we don’t like, and to all others. Pema Chödrön says this practice creates not only compassion for others, but compassion for ourselves and a deep connection with all beings based on our common experience of suffering.

4. Cleansing Breath

This nine-breath practice from the Tibetan tradition is designed to expel blocked or “stale” energy (prana, chi). As a yogic practice, this can include visualizing the expulsion of prana with each breath, but in this simplified form it can be done by any meditator. Because it relaxes the body and opens up the respiratory system, it is an excellent way to begin any meditation session.

Seated in your meditation posture, close the left nostril with your index finger and breathe slowly in and out through the right nostril three times. On the last exhalation, expel as much air as you can. Now close the right nostril and breath three times through the left nostril, again finishing with a forceful exhalation. Finally, breathe three times through both nostrils, doing a compete exhalation with each out-breath. Return to normal breathing, feeling open and relaxed.

5. The 4-7-8 Breath

Also known as the Weil Technique, for its advocate Dr. Andrew Weil, this simple yogic breath practice can be used to cultivate calm restfulness in any situation, but is especially prized as a way to help you fall to sleep.

In a restful position—this may be in bed, but doesn’t have to be—place the tip of your tongue just behind your front teeth. Inhale, then let out the breath with an audible, whooshing sound. Inhale again while internally counting to four. Next, hold the breath for a count to seven. Then, exhale again, using the same audible breath, for a count of eight. Repeat the cycle as you wish.

Weil notes that while the technique can be highly effective, one should be patient and consistent with it, as it may take up to two months to develop as a reliable sleep aid.

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Metta meditation doesn’t work like that. It’s about being determined, courageous, and patient in purifying your own heart and mind.

Metta is a meditation practice that involves concentrating and reciting, either silently or out loud, phrases of good wishes toward yourself and others. Metta is usually translated as “loving-kindness,” but I prefer Thanissaro Bhikkhu’s translation of metta as “good will.”

What this form of meditation is designed to do—and for many people does very successfully—is to purify us of hatred and ill will. Good will is the antidote to ill will. Good will, or loving-kindness, is the antidote to ill will, hatred, and enmity.

When you practice good will, you remove fear and negative reactivity from your mind.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., talked about the need for “aggressive nonviolence.” There are times and situations in which we have to show up and throw down, and this may be such a time. Whether I do that from a mind of toxic hatred, or from a mind that recognizes that every human being has at some point been my mother, my parent, or guardian, depends on how well I practice metta.

When you practice good will, you remove fear and negative reactivity from your mind. For me, this is what is most important about many people practicing metta, together or individually, whenever it is necessary to reduce the conflict and hatred that emerge so quickly from fear and spread in a viral fashion.

When you practice metta, you kind of work up a ladder. You go from people like family and friends, people it’s easy for you to feel good will toward, to those you don’t know. Then, ascending as you are able to—not forcing anything—you extend wishes for safety, happiness, and peace to those you dislike and those you consider your enemies. Finally, at the ultimate level, you extend your good will to all living beings in the universe.

It’s a pretty tall order—although possible for some people—to feel loving and kind toward those who are perpetrators of violence and oppression. Even to feel good will toward them might be difficult. So we can frame this meditation as the cultivation of nonhatred and nonfear in order to become stronger, more stable, and more centered. Then we can move forward in a positive fashion to battle oppression and create some improvement for our communities and the United States overall.

Metta meditation can be done in a brief flash of good wishes or it can be practiced continuously over many days. First, find a place to sit or lie down quietly and comfortably. Make sure that you’re in a place of reasonable safety. You can close your eyes or keep them open a little. You might take a few deep breaths to begin, calming and steadying yourself to the best of your ability. You might want to gently and lightly place a hand on your heart or your cheek or another part of your body in any way that promotes a feeling of inner safety and that helps to connect you to your courage and compassion. Then you can begin the practice.

Good Will Toward Yourself

Using these words or others—because you can adapt this however you like—you begin with these wishes of good will to yourself: “May I be safe and protected from physical and mental harm. May I be strong and healthy and enjoy well-being. May I be peaceful and truly happy. May I live my life with more joy and ease.”

Toward Friends

Now extend those good wishes to those whom you like, your family, mentors, good friends, and others: “May you be safe and protected from physical and mental harm. May you be strong and healthy. May you be peaceful and happy. May you live with joy and ease.”

Toward Neutral Beings

Now we extend our good will toward neutral beings—people and other living beings we neither like nor dislike. It’s always useful to check in: do you actually have neutral beings in your life? I don’t. My mind will quickly divide, even very slightly, between those I like and those I don’t like. That is something worth noting if it’s true for you.

Then you can recite something like: “Though you are a neutral being to me—meaning I do not engage with you that much—I know you are like me in that you have joys, sorrows, and pain in your life. Therefore, I wish you well. May you live your life with more joy and ease.”

Toward Enemies

Thich Nhat Hanh said, “While it is easy to love the lovable, it may be the unlovable who need our love more.” So the next stage is to express your good will, to the extent you can, toward someone who has caused you some slight injury. Then, to the extent possible, you can extend these good wishes toward people who have caused you more pain, and to institutions and organizations that have caused you, your family, or your community pain and suffering. Let this develop naturally; relax and invite yourself to experiment with it.

Toward All Beings

Finally, you extend metta to all living beings in the universe. You might visualize yourself as a kind of lighthouse, with good will and loving-kindness streaming out from your heart and body in every direction, including up and down. We want to be 360 degrees of metta. “May all beings be safe and protected from harm. May each and every being without exception be strong and healthy. May all living beings be peaceful and know true happiness. May each and every living being without exception live their lives with more joy and ease. And together may we complete the great journey of awakening.”

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With a puzzle, a person sits at the table with a thousand pieces scattered in all directions. They may say, “I don’t see any connections. How can I find anything?” After a few minutes they may say, “I can’t do this. This is not for me.” So, they give up. It may be true that the activity doesn’t work for them, but by giving up without putting in a good effort, they’ve lost the opportunity for their attention to grow.

“When we learn to see thoughts come and go, we develop the attitude of the observer.”

For many, meditation is similar. They say, “How can I meditate with these thousand thoughts swirling in my head?” They don’t see the connection between following their breath and cultivating well-being. Nothing seems to make sense, so they think, “This is not for me,” and they give up quickly. Their attention does not have the chance to stabilize, nor does tranquility have the chance to arise.

Doing puzzles is a humbling experience, since we see how dispersed our minds can be. Our field of vision is bombarded with puzzle pieces, but when we try to focus on one piece, another attracts our attention. We then let go of that distraction and return to finding our initial piece. As we return, another thought pops up and takes our attention away. We believe we saw the piece before; we just don’t remember where. We can even swear that a piece is lost, simply because we cannot find it. That’s how unfocused our minds can be.

The good news is that as long as we keep returning to the task of finding the puzzle piece, eventually we will “see” it. This is what makes attention grow: a gentle but consistent persistence. It is like dripping water filling a bucket drop by drop. In my community in Brazil, we have a similar saying: It is grain by grain that the hen fills her gullet.

Thanissaro Bhikkhu says that mindfulness “is the ability to keep something in mind and remember to keep it in mind.” He also reminds us that the Buddha taught right mindfulness and not simply mindfulness. With right mindfulness, together with other aspects of the path, we keep in mind and remember to keep in mind what is beneficial and abandon what is not.

The simple task of finding a puzzle piece cultivates mindfulness and concentration, which spills over into our meditation practice. Moments of concentration in meditation then lead to additional moments of mindfulness in daily life. It is a snowball effect. This fundamental aspect of the Buddha’s teachings helps us understand cause and effect and can be applied to any part of our lives. We do this, that arises. We stop doing this, that ceases.

If there is a messy pile in front of us, it will take longer to see connections. So, separate the puzzle pieces by color or shape. In meditation, we see connections as we return over and over to the object of our attention. That process of returning is what gives the mind a chance to calm down, rest in the present moment, and watch our thoughts. In time, we realize how we create stress for ourselves by the frenetic way we think.

Sometimes we focus on small details in the puzzle. Other times, we look at the whole picture. In observing the breath in one spot, we narrow our attention. Other times we make our awareness broad. In the Anapanasati Sutta, for example, the Buddha encourages us to make our awareness include our whole body. 

At one moment, the puzzle seems easy. Another moment, we want to quit. Similarly, we may be hitting a plateau in our meditation practice or encountering a seemingly insurmountable challenge. In moments like these, patience, creativity, persistence, and a gentle touch can help.

In the essay “A Decent Education,” American Buddhist monk Thanissaro Bhikkhu says, “when things like pain and distraction come up in the meditation…don’t get discouraged by how big the task is. Just keep chipping away, chipping away….when you come to meditation you need to develop the basic skills needed to deal with a long-term project: Keep chipping away, chipping away, step by step.”

We can train ourselves to improve our attention. A puzzle is one of endless activities that can increase our attention by bringing our minds to the present moment. At first it is all a blur, but with time it starts to make sense. Finishing a puzzle can bring a sense of accomplishment. We have cultivated attention and can now notice what we didn’t before.

As we meditate, we see our thoughts more clearly and question their reality. Insight meditation teacher Tara Brach says, “Thoughts are real but not true.” What this means is that their effect on the body is real, but we are often making them up.

When we learn to see thoughts come and go, we develop the attitude of the observer. This is an important step because observing our thoughts is a major goal of meditation. Otherwise, unskillful thoughts spill out in our words and actions when we are irritated.

Sometimes, simply acknowledging a thought’s presence is enough for it to go away. At other times, we need an active approach, especially with persistent and negative thoughts. Deal with those like a call from a strange number or a scam text—see it but don’t answer it, or glance at it and delete it.

We learn to notice that thoughts of understanding, forgiveness, generosity, compassion, and goodwill for ourselves and others have a positive impact on our emotions. How we think affects how we feel. This is the principle of cause and effect. Test it to see if it is true for you.

With more moments of mindfulness, continue observing your thoughts. Engage with thoughts when needed, or just step back and watch. By stepping back from our thoughts, we create moments of rest despite the conditions of our lives and this unjust world. Most importantly, we create positive causes for this moment and the next. The practice is to pay attention to one breath at a time, one moment of mindfulness at a time, and one thought at a time. Even when there are a thousand thoughts.

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Formal walking meditation techniques vary in different streams of Theravada Buddhism. In the Burmese tradition and on Insight Meditation retreats, meditators usually walk alone, rather than in a line or a circle, as is done in other Buddhist traditions.

The invitation is to walk back and forth between two points about 20–30 feet apart, which helps us to let go of “getting somewhere.” We practice walking just to walk. Choosing a place to practice at the beginning of the walking period also eliminates spending most of our time deciding where we should walk. We should try to stick to our chosen place because we are often confronted with desires such as “This place is too noisy. I should walk around the back of the building.” But the back area is too cold, so we have to search for a warm spot. But alas, to our horror the only warm areas are filled with other people and we cannot do walking meditation unless we are alone. By now thirty minutes has gone by so we decide to give up.

When you have selected your place, divide the walking meditation into three parts. During the first part, perhaps 10–15 minutes long, walk a little more slowly than you would normally. During the second, also about 10–15 minutes long, slow down even more. In the third, the remaining time you walk, move quite slowly.

It is also fine, instead of breaking your walk into three stages, to choose one of the paces and walk back and forth at that speed. As in all practices in this tradition, what feels appropriate to you, given the conditions, is what you should do.

Exercise: A Guided Walking Meditation

Begin, as you did with sitting meditation, by acknowledging your intention and your commitment to cultivating mindfulness through this practice.

In the first segment of your walking meditation, allow your awareness to focus on the sense of stepping on the ground. If you would like to bring more energy into your system—and one of the wonderful things about walking meditation is that it actually brings energy into the mind—lift your knees a little bit higher and decrease the stride, so that you are taking shorter steps. Notice the sense of stepping on the earth: Stepping, stepping, stepping.

In the next portion, slow down enough so that you notice the lifting of the foot and then the stepping of the foot on the ground. Lifting, stepping—lifting, stepping—lifting, stepping. You will notice, as with sitting meditation, that the mind wanders many times. No problem. Just keep bringing it back to the sensations of lifting and stepping, and to the knowing of that sequence. You know that you are lifting when you lift, and you know that you are stepping when you step.

The last sequence is lifting, stepping, shifting—lifting, stepping, shifting. In this segment, slow down enough so that you really notice the shift of weight and the gradations of pressure that happen from one foot to the other. Start to notice the details of the experience. Notice that when the foot is lifted up, muscles may be working in your side. Observe how the foot glides across the surface of the ground, how the foot hangs, then when stepping—do not shift immediately—just acknowledge placing the foot on the ground. Then let the sequence happen again, staying connected to lifting, stepping, shifting—lifting, stepping, shifting.

Some people find it helpful to do noting—to say descriptive words very softly in their minds as they perform the actions of walking meditation. When they are lifting, they say, “Lifting”; when they are stepping, “Stepping”; when they are shifting, “Shifting.”

Be careful not to make the words predominant or even bossy—they should be far in the background—but noting can give you a little extra support in being aware of the walking process and can help keep you focused.

In addition to noting, walking by counting—a focus on developing stability and mental concentration—is another practice that can assist you when your mind is distracted. In this practice, you can walk at a normal pace. When you take your first step, you count 1. On the next two steps, you say 1, 2. On the next three steps, you say 1, 2, 3. The next four steps are 1, 2, 3, 4, and so on all the way up to 10. When you reach 10, you say 10, then 10, 9 for the next two steps; then 10, 9, 8 for the next three steps, etc.

Whenever you lose your concentration, you go back to 1. What often happens is that when you are in the middle of the sequence and get to 10, you then say 11—you do not remember to make the transition back because you are not really concentrating: you are on rote. If you want to move your body while focusing your mind, counting is very useful. You can do it in a short space and keep turning around, or you can do it on a long walk by repeatedly starting counting over again.

When you are walking, your primary focus is on the sensations of walking. Sometimes you will notice that you are not focused on walking but rather on seeing or hearing—a very common experience. When that happens, just note, “Seeing” or “Hearing,” and come back to walking again. If, during formal practice, you want to look at something, acknowledge this intention, stop walking, look at what you want to look at, then continue walking again with your focus on the steps.

Formal walking practice might not fit into your daily life. Perhaps the only time you take a walk is when you take the dogs out in the morning, and there is no way you can be doing lifting, stepping, shifting. No problem. Just take a general, comprehensive awareness of walking and notice over and over again how it feels for your body to be moving. Or you might find it easier to focus on the feet, noticing the placing of a foot on the ground, connecting with the earth, and feeling the rhythm of walking. This kind of mindfulness is as valuable as formal walking. One is not better than the other. Both are useful in their own way, so which one you choose to do depends on the conditions in your own life.

Jogging can become our practice too—feeling the general movement of the body, and in particular the rhythm of the feet on the ground. Moving the body either in a certain form such as yoga or from our own internal sense of rhythm, exercising, and doing yoga can very much be part of our cultivation of mindfulness.

Excerpted from “The Beginner’s Guide to Insight Meditation,” by Arinna Weisman and Jean Smith, and available from Wisdom Publications. Reprinted with permission.

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In these troubled and troubling times, metta (loving-kindness) is my foundational practice. I am truly grateful for metta meditation, and I practice when I’m afraid, uncertain, or despairing. Metta helps me stay grounded and keeps my heart open to others. I use it to send affirmations of unconditional love to friends and benefactors, and to affirm the well-being and safety of survivors of climate catastrophe, war, and social injustice. 

 The term metta comes from a Pali word connoting benevolence at both the individual and collective levels. English words that convey its meaning include friendliness, amicability, goodwill, altruism, unconditional love, and nonviolence. In many English-speaking dharma circles in the United States, metta is translated as loving-kindness in order to better distinguish it from love based on selfishness or wanting something back.

According to the Buddhist tradition, metta was developed to aid a group of monks who had entered a forest to practice meditation. Engrossed in their practice, the monks failed to notice that the land they’d entered was inhabited; it was the abode of tree spirits, animals, and other sentient life forms. Assuming that the monks would only be meditating in the area for a short time, the spirits initially vacated out of respect. However, after days passed without the monks leaving, the tree spirits became angry and attempted to chase the monks away. They sent frightening visions, made loud and disturbing sounds, and created unwholesome smells, which so disconcerted the monks that they were unable to practice.

When the monks returned to the Buddha, he told them to go back to the forest and begin metta practice. That is, they were to offer loving-kindness to all beings—seen and unseen—in the forest. So, that’s what the monks did. They sent affirmations of goodwill, friendliness, and loving-kindness to all beings in the area. This soothed and mollified the angry tree spirits, and in return they supported the monks for the entirety of their stay.

The Buddha asked the monks to cultivate love in their hearts for everyone, regardless of the configurations of their bodies, how distant or close they lived, or their perceived worthiness or unworthiness. In his time, these instructions repudiated the unjust treatment of lower caste people. In our times, I believe metta practice asks that we reject social oppressions, such as racism, classism, homophobia, nativism, transphobia, ableism, anti-Semitism, and Islamophobia. In practicing metta, we relinquish feelings of anger, hatred, or superiority—feelings that lead to the “othering” of those different from us.

Instead of using the image of a warrior to combat fear, the Buddha invoked the image of a mother, protecting her child. Mothers—or parents—may not have any specialized training, but the force of their love enables them to perform miraculous acts to support their children. In practicing metta, we aspire to bring this loving care not just to our own families, but to all sentient life. According to the Karaniya Metta Sutta, the Buddha stated, “As strongly as a mother, perhaps risking her own life, cherishes her child, her only child, develop an unlimited heart for all beings.” 

In my personal practice, I’ve taken these concepts to heart. I practice metta when I’m concerned about my son’s welfare, and my husband and I do metta for each other and the world as part of our New Year’s ritual blessing. Sometimes when I’ve been in deep and seemingly irresolvable conflict with a colleague, I’ve (privately) offered them metta to remind myself of our shared humanity.

When the troubles of the world seem overwhelming, I use metta to address the suffering of beings both human and other-than-human. Even when I don’t know them by name, I send metta to individuals and communities experiencing drought, famine, human trafficking, and genocide.

Metta is a practice that can be done by those new to Buddhism, those who are long-term practitioners, and those who don’t identify as Buddhists. 

How to Prepare for Practice

To engage in any meditation practice, one should situate oneself in a safe and quiet space. Ideally, one should be in a relaxed state of mind, and take a posture that’s comfortable for the body; however, not all of us have a private meditation room or a garden. While having a place that one regularly meditates in is ideal, it’s not necessary. What’s most important is our ability to find a space in which we can focus on our intention and the words of the meditation.

I always begin my practice by first grounding myself. It can be challenging to find a comfortable posture for a body, such as mine, which experiences chronic pain. Nonetheless, I begin by assuming a posture I can hold for at least ten to fifteen minutes, knowing I can adjust my posture if I need to do so. Someone new to meditation may choose a posture they can hold for three to five minutes. The Buddha taught that meditation can be done seated, standing, or lying down, and I advise students to choose what works best for their bodies.

If we are meditating at the end of the day, or after prolonged sitting at a computer screen, a little gentle rocking side to side or forward and back will help us come away from our to-do list and into our body and chosen posture. 

Next, take a breath and notice the parts of the body closest to the floor. This can be the feet on the floor, the sitz bones on the cushion or chair, or the weight of the hands resting on the thighs or in the lap. If you’re lying down, you can focus on the long bones of the body lying on the bed or floor. 

If locating the breath is difficult, placing a hand over the chest or the belly and feeling the rise and fall may be helpful. Feel the breath as it moves through the body, or feel a warm sensation where the hands touch the body. 

After a few inhalations and exhalations, you can begin the meditation. The eyes may be closed, although if this doesn’t feel right, a soft gaze at the floor helps us release the outer world and focus on the internal work of the meditation.

The Four Parts of Metta Meditation

There are many versions of metta available, and they are commonly divided into short and long forms. The long version is the first version I learned. It speaks to my life experience and helps me enter the meditation more fully when I am agitated, even when I’m short of time. 

As I practice it, there are four parts to metta meditation. The first part involves practicing metta for the self. This is how we begin because we cannot offer loving-kindness to others if we are not well resourced ourselves; we cannot invoke safety for another if we do not, even for a moment, feel safe ourselves. In a culture where we’re often criticized and encouraged to negatively judge our bodies, minds, abilities, and disabilities, the practice of metta helps us recognize that we have inherent worthiness and that we are deserving of respect, support, and tenderness just as we are.

One version of classic phrases in the long form states:

May I be safe and protected from inner and outer harm.

May I be strong and healthy in mind and body.

May I care for myself with ease and joy.

May I be happy, truly, truly happy.

In the second part of metta, we bring to mind a benefactor, someone who has helped or supported us. This can be a mentor, teacher, or beloved friend. As you recite the metta phrases, imagine that the person is standing or seated in front of you: 

May you be safe and protected from inner and outer harm.

May you be strong and healthy in mind and body.

May you care for yourself with ease and joy.

May you be happy, truly, truly happy.

The third part of metta is dedicated to a neutral person, someone we do not know by name and with whom we have neither a negative nor a positive connection. They could be a bus driver, delivery person, or someone we pass in the street. As with the benefactor, we should visualize this person. 

If we’re doing metta for people that we’ve never actually seen in real life, we can use images from the media or our own hearts. For example, if I’m doing metta for a particular group of people seeking safety in times of war, I might say, “May all those fleeing war in (name of country or area) be safe and protected from inner and outer harm,” while I picture people I’ve seen in a newspaper or other media. The phrases would then be repeated:

May you be safe and protected from inner and outer harm.

May you be strong and healthy in mind and body.

May you care for yourself with ease and joy.

May you be happy, truly, truly happy.

In the fourth and final phase of metta meditation, we invoke loving-kindness for the difficult person, someone with whom we are in conflict, or who has acted against us. Offering metta to someone who caused us lasting harm is an advanced practice. So, when we first begin offering metta to difficult people, we should begin with those who have caused us minor annoyance rather than those whose acts have evoked significant trauma. The phrases are the same as for the benefactor and the neutral person.  

Note, if you are new to metta practice, you may want to just practice for the self or the benefactor before you move on to the neutral or difficult person.

Make the Practice Your Own

Some people find the long form of metta meditation difficult to remember and prefer shorter phrases. A shorter version uses phrases such as these:

May I be healthy.

May I be safe.

May I be happy.

May I live with ease.

Just as with the long form, one applies the phrases first to oneself, next to the benefactor, then to the neutral person, and finally to the difficult person.

 Many contemporary teachers have adjusted the wording of metta to fit modern times. This is in line with the Buddha’s instruction to not speak in “high” or scholarly language, but to speak in the vernacular of the people to whom the teachings are addressed.

At the East Bay Meditation Center, where I teach, we have an affinity-group sangha, Every Body, Every Mind, which describes itself as “a weekly practice group for people living with disabilities, limitations, differences, and chronic illnesses.” Many in this sangha do not have strong or healthy bodies and feel it is harmful to affirm a state of being that denies the reality of the body they live in. Some of us require assistance to carry out the activities of daily living, and we cannot individually care for ourselves with ease and joy.

I now use these words for metta so that I may be more inclusive of all beings, regardless of their abilities and disabilities.

May you be safe and protected from inner and outer harm.

May you be strong and healthy in mind and body, and if that’s not possible, may you still experience moments of well-being and joy in the body you have.

May you care for yourself with ease and joy, and if that’s not possible, may you be cared for with ease and joy.

May you be happy, truly, truly happy.

Metta is a practice of great profundity. It embodies the Buddhist principle that hatred never ends hatred, but can only be healed by love. This is truly the medicine needed to heal our sick and ailing world. While we are each part of the world’s problems, the practice of metta invites us to be part of the compassionate solution to these problems by not engaging in feelings of enmity and hatred.

This article is from the March 2024 issue of Lion’s Roar magazine.

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2. Place your hands palms down on your thighs and take an upright posture with a straight back, relaxed yet dignified. With your eyes open, let your gaze rest comfortably as you look slightly downward about six feet in front of you.

3. Place your attention lightly on your out-breath, while remaining aware of the environment around you. Be with each breath as the air goes out through your mouth and nostrils and dissolves into the space around you. At the end of each out-breath, simply rest until the next breath goes out. For a more focused meditation, you can follow both out-breaths and in-breaths.

4. Whenever you notice that a thought has taken your attention away from the breath, just say to yourself, “thinking,” and return to following the breath. In this context, any thought, feeling, or perception that distracts you is labeled “thinking.” Thoughts are not judged as good or bad. When a thought arises, just gently note it and return your attention to your breath and posture.

5. At the end of your meditation session, bring calm, mindfulness, and openness into the rest of your day.

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An especially potent form of prayer for times of crisis like these is metta. Metta is a Pali word that has been translated as loving-kindness, universal goodwill, or loving-friendliness. My favorite translation, which I learned from Vipassana teacher Anushka Fernandopulle, is “unstoppable friendliness.”

Tradition tells us that, like the sun, metta is always present and doesn’t discriminate. Metta is the heart of what are known as the four divine abodes, which include compassion, appreciative joy, and equanimity. As a prayer, metta offers an authentic experience of our interconnectedness.

Metta is a concentration practice to cultivate unconditional goodwill for all. It is practiced by reciting and contemplating a series of aspirations or prayers that express your goodwill and unstoppable friendliness toward yourself and others. With each recitation, you expand the scope of your loving-kindness—from yourself, to those close to you, to those for whom you feel antipathy, and finally to all sentient beings.

For guidance on metta practice, let’s look at some quotes from the Karaniya Metta Sutta, known in English as The Discourse on Loving-Kindness, in which the Buddha teaches metta as a simple and direct way to meet the moment as it is.

Wishing: In gladness and in safety,
May all beings be at ease.

A phrase such as, “May I/you/all be free from inner and outer harm,” when repeated with genuine goodwill, cultivates a sense of calm acceptance of things as they are. When the mind is determined to reject what it cannot change, it can become caught up in forms of inner harm such as shaming, blaming, complaining, and explaining. In wishing for safety and ease for ourselves or others, we are more able to hold the reality of impermanence, and the first noble truth that there is no place where one can entirely escape suffering or harm.

Whatever living beings there may be…omitting none….

A common question that arises is: how do I practice with the most difficult person I can think of? Consider an analogy to weight lifting. It’s obvious that it would be unwise and possibly unsafe to start out lifting the heaviest weights. We must practice with lighter ones first. Likewise, we can harm ourselves by trying to practice metta with a very difficult person, if we haven’t developed the capacity to work with the aversion and despair that may arise. We must build capacity incrementally, starting with ourselves, a dear mentor, or any beloved being (a pet, a tree, a deity).

Let none deceive another,
Or despise any being in any state.

Most people agree that we should not lie to others or hate them. Metta practice can help us see how we lie to and feel hatred toward ourselves. Sharon Salzberg, meditation teacher and author of the seminal book, Lovingkindness, asked the Dalai Lama, “What do you think about self-hatred?” Confounded by her question, he replied, “Self-hatred? What is that?”

The self-hatred experienced by many in the West is actually a product of internalized oppression. The systems of oppression that bell hooks has called “imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchy” teach us that we are never enough, that we must constantly strive to be worthy of happiness. Phrases like, “May I love myself as I am” and “May I be happy and know the true causes of happiness” help us see through the deception. 

Let none through anger or ill will
wish harm upon another.

The Dhammapada teaches us: “Hatred is never appeased by hatred in this world; by nonhatred alone is hatred appeased. This is an eternal law.” Although anger can indicate that there is injustice or harm happening, it’s easy to slip into ill will toward the targets of our anger. It can be momentarily satisfying to wish harm on another, but the harm rebounds on ourselves. It’s the proverbial drinking of the poison and hoping the other person gets sick. A phrase like “May you be happy and healthy,” directed to the source of our anger, can help purify us of this poison.

Meditation

Here is a typical series of metta contemplations you can practice, reciting them three times as you change the subject of your prayer from “I” to “you” to “all.” But feel free to create your own or adapt these to resonate with your own experience.

May (I/you/all beings) be safe and
protected, free from inner and
outer harm.

May (I/you/all) be happy.

May (my/your/everyone’s) body support the practice of loving awareness.

May (I/you/all) be free from ill-will, affliction, and anxiety.

May (I/you/everyone) love (myself/yourself/themselves) as (I am/you are/they are).

May (I/you/all) be happy and free
from suffering.

May (I/you/all) find peace in an
uncertain world.

May (I/you/all) find ease on the
middle path between attachment and apathy.

When you lose concentration, simply and kindly return to your phrases. Try not to judge the judgments that inevitably arise. Meet each moment with unstoppable friendliness. May you be inspired by the transformative potential of this practice.

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“You can create your own peaceful refuge, no matter where you live.”

Growing up as a military dependent, I traveled to many places throughout the world where contemplation, prayer, and meditation had standing. I paid attention to those public places where people gathered for contemplation. I’ll never forget spending a day with my dad at the Pentagon in the early 1970s and coming across a meditation room. I was surprised and delighted that the country’s most important military facility had a room dedicated to meditation.

Then, in 2014, following a monthlong pilgrimage in India, I was returning to the U.S. when I had a six-hour layover in Amsterdam. As I walked around the terminal, I came across something familiar: pairs of shoes placed outside a door. Behind the door was a meditation room with cushions, chairs, and meditation shawls. It was truly an oasis, especially just coming out of a Buddhist pilgrimage. 

There are so many wonderful meditation spaces in the world, but—for me—the most profound meditation space is in my apartment. This is home base for my meditation practices.

I’ve lived in my rent-stabilized, four-room apartment (one bedroom), on the fourth floor, at the tip of Manhattan, for over thirty years. This space has supported my meditation practice as it has developed over time. Years ago, when I first moved into my apartment, a blessing and clearing was done by an African healer/shaman. Herbal sachets and smudges were burned in all corners of the rooms. I sat and meditated on loving-kindness and welcomed ancestral spirits past and present. Many Buddhist monastics have visited and offered blessings and dharma teachings in my apartment. I’m fortunate to have the space I have. It provides room for three altars—dedicated to the Buddha, ancestors, and protectors respectively. There’s also space for a small table, bench, and chair, allowing me to practice Zen calligraphy with an emphasis on African pictograms and Adinkra alphabets, write haikus, practice kado (the art of arranging flowers and branches), and play the mbira.

Creating a meditation space in my apartment has been a wonderful way for me to find tranquility amidst the hustle and bustle of New York City. You, too, can create your own peaceful refuge, no matter where you live. Of course, you can dedicate a whole room to meditation—if you have the space—but it isn’t necessary. A small corner, lovingly set aside for meditation, can be just as nourishing.

The most important aspect of a meditation space is that it feels peaceful and conducive to your practice. Here are some general suggestions for setting up such a space:

1. Sit and bring the motivation of bodhicitta (awakened heart and mind) to the fore. Then select a quiet area in your home, as out of the way as possible.
   
2. Provide the space with comfortable seating. Use a comfortable cushion(s) or chair for meditation. Consider foldable or stackable options if space is limited.
   
3. Incorporate nature into the space, for example, flowers, plants, water, and natural light. This will foster a serene atmosphere.
   
4. Personalize the space with essential oils, calming artwork, incense, and candles. Add cherished personal items that promote relaxation.
   
5. Are there mindfulness tools that would be helpful? Get a zafu and zabuton, yoga mat, or a small altar if it aligns with your practice.
   
6. Can you hear city sounds from your meditation space? If so, minimize outside noise with soundproofing materials or use soothing sounds of nature recordings.
   
7. Don’t let “stuff” take over your meditation space. Keep the area free from clutter to create a calming, spacious atmosphere.
   
8. Keep your space clean. If your meditation space is in a corner of a room, such as your living room, bedroom, or kitchen, it’s helpful to keep the whole room clean and tidy. This will make your meditation space easier to access.

People dealing with homelessness and confinement can also benefit from developing and holding a meditation space. I’m a social worker and have been a therapist for a long time. I work with people who have suffered deep, painful emotional and physical trauma in their lives. Some have come to therapy in conditions of homelessness. Trying to navigate out of a homeless situation and processing trauma at the same time requires equanimity. Creating a meditation space while homeless is challenging. Here are a few suggestions:

1. Some community centers, shelters, and libraries have designated quiet areas where you can meditate. And no matter what your beliefs are, churches, temples, and synagogues are often good places to access quiet. 
   
2. Seek out quiet spots in public parks where you can sit and meditate. If possible, bring a small portable cushion or mat with you.
   
3. If you have access to a smartphone, tap into meditation apps or guided meditation videos to help create a peaceful mental space, even if your physical surroundings are challenging. 
   
4. Remember that mindfulness and meditation can be practiced anywhere. You can focus on the breath even in noisy or crowded places. The external environment can impact your meditation, but the essence of meditation lies in finding peace within yourself regardless of your surroundings.

The challenge of creating a meditation space while incarcerated requires patience, grounding, and awareness. At best, you might have an eight-by-ten-foot room that may be shared with another incarcerated person. Creating a meditation space in a prison cell can provide some solace and a sense of calm in an undoubtedly challenging environment.

Having worked with many incarcerated people, I offer these suggestions for setting up a meditation space in a prison cell:

1. The concept of personal space is nearly nonexistent in the carceral environment. But try to explore ways that a specific corner or area of the cell can be dedicated to meditation.
   
2. If possible, use a pillow, folded blanket, or sit on the bed to provide cushioning from hard surfaces.
   
3. Practice mindfulness exercises, even if that means simply sitting quietly and focusing on the breath and body. 
   
4. In your space, place a small object or image to serve as a focal point for meditation.
   
5. Try to find ways to observe noble silence. Coordinate quiet time with the prison schedule to find opportunities, such as during designated recreation periods or before lights out, for contemplation and meditation. Utilize the prison chapel.
   
6. Consider using visualization. If possible, create a mental image of a peaceful place during meditation to transport the mind away from the prison cell environment.
   
7. Ensure that any items or arrangements adhere to the rules and regulations of the prison.

Remember, despite the limitations, finding a few moments of peace and centeredness through a meditation practice can be beneficial, even in a confined space.

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Last year as the lockdown wore on, I began to have recurring, dark thoughts that seemingly arose out of nowhere. They disturbed me to the point that I repeatedly tried to get rid of them through any means possible. But despite my best efforts, they persisted.

When working with difficult thoughts during mindfulness practice, we’re often encouraged to find the place in our bodies where we feel the corresponding sensations. This is very effective at helping us to stabilize our attention in the present moment. Yet, even for me after decades of practice, sometimes the mind is so busy — the feelings so challenging — that finding this balance point is difficult. Or, I may find it briefly then get caught again in the rapids.

The seemingly dark thoughts were calling me to pay attention and listen to a part of myself that felt isolated and alone.

When this happens, I’ve learned to soften my approach and offer compassion to the thoughts themselves. This may seem counterintuitive, but the practice calms me as I stop struggling. During the lockdown, I realized the seemingly dark thoughts were calling me to pay attention and listen to a part of myself that felt isolated and alone. I saw that these thoughts were linked to a traumatic time in my life when I was completely isolated and lost in depression. The Covid lockdown reactivated this sense of disconnection in a way that needed my loving attention and compassion. Soon the dark thoughts abated.

With this practice, you’re directing kind awareness toward persistent mental activity and creating a more patient relationship with yourself. Here are a few steps to support this practice:

1. Take several conscious breaths and allow your body to settle.
2. Intentionally bring the difficult thoughts to mind.
3. Imagine the thoughts are like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake. In this case, let them sink into your heart. This may take some patience, but see if you can slowly let the thoughts move into your body.
4. Put your hand on your heart and offer some words of compassion and kindness:

I see you
I care about you
May this suffering be a kind and wise teacher
May I be filled with loving-kindness
May I be held in compassion

As you do this practice, you may discover, as I did, that these tenacious thoughts represent a part of you that longs to be seen and acknowledged. Kind awareness, even toward unwanted thoughts, goes a long way when other approaches are unworkable.

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