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Elefanterosado, A gringa from Southern Vermont who adores the poetry of Pablo Neruda and Townes Van Zandt among others. I love the Spanish language, the study of translation, and the beauty of the English language. I like to write anecdotes about the amusing and lovely experience of living in a small New England town.

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The Metta Bhavana

Lotus Flower, originally uploaded by Ryan C. Y. Lee.

I have found the Metta Bhavana practice to be extraordinarily grounding this week. Loving Kindness truly is a journey into the heart of our essential selves. I imagine the pool near my heart fill to brimming with the sweet essence of pink Lotus flowers. The pool is the Unmanifested. The petals represent the incarnation of the Manifest.

I love the beautiful, mellifluous and extremely peaceful Irish accent of the voice on the guided meditations. The voice of Bodhipaksa. His voice is very transportative and has a tangible quality that helps me to form peaceful mental images—especially of the friend he asks us to envision and wish well.

I am finding this practice of Metta Bhavana to be fortuitous and timely, particularly this week. I’m coping with sadness and disillusion caused by the thoughtless and selfish actions of someone close to me, and this practice gives me an opportunity to give myself gentle attention and refrain from creating an ego or victim identity around the event. I felt as though—even though my mind wandered quite a bit—I was able to be guided back to a place of peace and tranquility during the practice. The most useful methods for me included the dropping of emotions into the pool near my heart, and imagining the image of a dear friend. In the first instance I imagined a friend who has been in my life for more than 20 years and who has shown great compassion during this difficult incident in my life. The second time I practiced I envisioned my older brother, who has been deceased for more than 20 years. He was a soul who suffered greatly in life. Now that he is part of the Unmanifested again, however, I was able to wish him peace and freedom from suffering in his new form, just as I had during his actual life. It felt good to send out my love to these individuals. During this difficult time I miss my brother especially, and wish I could seek his counsel.

Some angry thoughts did pass through my mind, though. I had some hard thoughts toward the person I feel betrayed by. Even in the midst of these harsh thoughts, though, I was able to recognize that my criticism is a result of my feelings toward this person rather than about the person him or herself. In the middle of the fictional illusion that we are all separate, isolated beings, it is possible through this practice to tell oneself gently: “Oh yes, that’s just the mind making up stories to entertain itself again.”

Years ago I received some meditation guidance from a counselor who also happened to be a practicing Buddhist. At that time my mind fought mightily against meditation. I’ll always remember one thing she said during her guidance: “Don’t hesitate to watch the stick float by in the river. Just don’t invite it in for tea.” These words have taken on a profound significance over the years. I understand now that “tea” is the practice, and that we are gently encouraged to watch our thoughts rather than indulge them and give them a separate and distinct identity. When we detach from our thoughts—which often involve criticism and judgment—we also detach from the illusion of our separate identity from the world. I’d say I experience this profound truth as satori at this point, yet I am still grateful for those ephemeral moments of truth.

The Metta allows me to smile at the stick and say gently: “Ah, you rascal. No tea for you today. I indulged you enough yesterday, and the day before. I’ll see you later, my devilish friend. Namaste.”

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