The Mindful Path to Self-Compassion

by Christopher K Germer

  If a core belief, or schema, arises in meditation, you can label that too: “abandonment,” “mistrust,” “defectiveness,” “inadequacy.” Offer labels in a soft, gentle tone. Go back and forth from the primary object (the phrases) to the most compelling object of awareness (the schema). Sit in the middle of your experience, like the Zen metaphor of a lotus flower in the middle of flames. Old memories may present themselves for mindful awareness. For example, if you’re a perfectionist, you might discover where you first heard that being “good enough is not good enough.” If you’re chronically angry, you might find yourself thinking of the person who told you that people should always be punished for their mistakes. If you’re terrified of being left alone, a person who was excessively worried about you may pop into your mind. As these events occur, simply note them and return to your mental anchor.

  In general, see if you can work with backdraft as you would with any distraction: note what’s happening, softly and gently, and return to the phrases. Please don’t make yourself suffer by trying too hard to remove your imperfections. As a wise person once said, “Attend to your sensitivity—a flower cannot be opened with a hammer.”

  LIKE A PRAYER

  There are similarities between loving-kindness meditation and prayer. When I asked a client of mine how his metta practice was going, he replied, “This is easy. I already know how to do my prayers.” Some people ask, “Can I pray to God when I wish for happiness and freedom from suffering?” The answer is “Yes, of course!” Anything that cultivates loving intentions is metta practice. But there’s a catch.

  I knew a woman, Paula, who suffered from hepatitis and prayed constantly to be relieved of her illness. Paula told me, “I had nothing but disappointment, so I just stopped praying.” Eventually she discovered metta practice and took to it enthusiastically, mainly because she could feel the love of prayer without the trap of expecting her life to change. Metta taught her surrender—surrender of the outcome of her efforts. Traditional prayer can be of two types: surrender (“Thy will be done”) or outcome (“Please heal this disease”). Metta helped Paula discern that it’s possible to hold a wish (“Dear God, may I …”) without a demand (“… get cured of my hepatitis!”). Surrender-type prayers don’t assume that we know what’s best for us or how things should be done; they’re an inclination of heart rather than an effort to control or manipulate an outcome. In other words, we’re holding our situation and desires a little more lightly.

  When Prayer Is Avoidance

  Robert Zettle and colleagues from Wichita State University wanted to know whether accepting pain makes it easier to bear. Using scores on a questionnaire, participants were grouped as either experience avoid-ers (“Anxiety is bad”) or nonavoiders (“I’m not afraid of my feelings”). Both groups were then asked to put a hand in a tray of cold water (40 degrees Fahrenheit) for up to 5 minutes. Researchers measured how long participants could keep their hands in the cold water. Afterward, participants filled out a questionnaire describing what they were thinking during the experiment.

  As predicted, the nonavoiders could tolerate the cold water much longer than the avoiders, even though both groups were equally sensitive to pain. Avoidant people used unhelpful mental strategies such as catastrophizing (“It’s terrible and I feel it’s never going to get better”) and prayer/hoping (“I pray for the pain to stop”). In short, people who can accept the experience of pain, without praying that it will go away, can endure pain for longer periods of time.

  Metta is secular prayer. Many people wish they had faith in a higher power, but they can’t seem to get there. A client of mine said, “I’m envious of the God people!” Metta is an opportunity for theists and nontheists alike to cultivate unconditional love by staying close to their deepest wishes. In the words of the poet Galway Kinnell, “The bud stands for all things … for everything flowers from within, of self-blessing.” The bud doesn’t need to appeal to something beyond itself to blossom; it’s in the nature of a bud to flower. Our deepest nature will also flourish when it’s fertilized with good will and loving-kindness.

  OFF THE CUSHION

  Loving-kindness practice takes place primarily in daily life—off the cushion or the couch. Not everyone has the temperament or the time for formal sitting meditation. If you have to make a choice between formal and informal practice, better to practice as often as possible during the 16+ hours that you’re engaged in daily life. Most people don’t need to do formal metta meditation to benefit greatly from the practice. Every moment of loving-kindness is brain training, no matter what posture you’re in. The principles and practical suggestions given so far pertain as much to loving-kindness practice in daily life as to sitting meditation.

  If you want a formal, sitting loving-kindness practice, how much time should you allocate each day? Twenty to 30 minutes of loving-kindness meditation in the morning is usually quite sufficient and sets the tone for the rest of the day. Some people find that 10 minutes is enough. In general, two short sittings are better than one long sitting (30–45 minutes) because some people find the nervous system becomes destabilized, that is, nervous or edgy, with longer sittings. Find out what works best for you.

  You should remember that the brain develops a habit of doing whatever it’s doing. If you stress yourself out on the cushion, the brain will develop the “sit and be stressed” habit. If you generate loving-kindness, the brain is in training to experience love. Mostly we’re reinforcing the intention to be loving and compassionate when we practice metta meditation.

  You can work with the phrases anytime, night or day. I like to repeat the metta phrases informally for a few minutes before I go to sleep and again when I wake up. In the ancient text of the Visudhimagga, it’s said that metta leads to sound sleep and nice dreams and also makes the practitioner dear to others. That’s not hard to understand. Our dreams are more likely to be peaceful if we go to sleep without fear or anger, and people will find it difficult (though not impossible!) to dislike us if we genuinely appreciate them.

  There’s no better time to discover self-compassion than when you feel really bad. The last two verses of Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem Kindness read:

  Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,

  You must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.

  You must wake up with sorrow.

  You must speak to it till your voice

  Catches the thread of all sorrows

  And you see the size of the cloth.

  Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,

  Only kindness that ties your shoes

  And sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,

  Only kindness that raises its head

  From the crowd of the world to say

  It is I you have been looking for,

  And then goes with you everywhere

  Like a shadow or a friend.

  A heart open to sorrow may seem like a frightening prospect, but compassion can become a constant, loving companion—a palpable presence through tough times. If you notice a hurt, perhaps an experience of failure, disappointment, or rejection, say softly to yourself, “May I be safe, may I be happy, may I be healthy, may I live with ease.”

  There’s a close association between self-compassion and self-forgiveness. Forgiveness is essential in life because we make mistakes all the time. Sometimes we’re put into impossible situations where people get hurt even when we do the right thing: a boss who has to fire an employee who is undermining morale, for instance, or a mother who has to stop giving money to her drug-addicted son. How do we forgive ourselves when we cause others pain, knowingly or unknowingly? The first step is to keep our hearts open to our own remorse rather than deflect it with anger or self-justification. Then we respond compassionately to ourselves, in words or deeds.

  Do you remember the examples given in Chapter 1 for how problems are caused by resistance to discomfort—back pain, insomnia, relationship conflict, and speech anx
iety? These common conditions are also excellent opportunities to practice loving-kindness. Metta meditation comforts the person who’s struggling, which, in turn, changes how we relate to the specific problem. It affects the eye of the beholder. For example, if I have back pain and say to myself, “May I be safe, may I be peaceful, may I be strong, may I live with ease,” the soothing I bring to myself will reduce the amount of anxiety I feel when I get a twinge of pain. We move from “anxious attention” to “loving attention”—to the path of least resistance.

  If you’re lying awake with insomnia, worried about the next day, try offering yourself loving-kindness because of your unhappiness about not sleeping. Replace the focus on sleep with attention to your sad or fearful feelings and say the metta phrases to yourself, over and over. Sleeplessness is an excellent opportunity to train your brain in something useful: self-compassion. It’s meditation in the lying-down position.

  When you find yourself struggling in a relationship, take a break and ask yourself what hurts so much. Is it that you don’t feel seen or heard, or you feel disrespected? Know that you deserve to be happy and free from suffering. Can you name the feeling you’re having? Give yourself the love and connection you need, right there in that moment, perhaps by using the metta phrases. Then, when you feel a little better, turn to your partner and talk.

  Loving-Kindness Meditation Reduces Back Pain

  James Carson and colleagues at the Duke University Medical School did a pilot study on loving-kindness meditation as a treatment strategy, applying it to lower back pain. He and his colleagues trained their participants in eight 90-minute group meetings weekly, and the trainees practiced metta meditation at home with audiotapes. Carson found that metta meditation reduced back pain, and the longer the participants practiced (from 10–25 minutes per day), the lower their pain level at the end of the meditation session. Longer meditations also predicted less anger the following day. One participant in the study who tended to lose her temper with her debilitated, elderly mother reported, “When I enter her room now, I can feel myself soften.” A businessman remarked, “I never knew it was possible to have such space in my heart for others.”

  If you suffer from public-speaking anxiety, offer loving-kindness to both yourself and your audience when you go up on stage, or beforehand when you think about going on stage. (“May we all be happy and free from suffering.”) Your audience might just respond to your compassionate frame of mind with compassion for your speech making! If you let yourself be just as anxious as you are, you might forget you were ever anxious. As Thomas Merton wrote, interpreting Chuang Tzu, the Taoist sage:

  So, when the shoe fits

  The foot is forgotten,

  When the belt fits

  The belly is forgotten,

  When the heart is right

  “For” and “against” are forgotten.

  WHAT METTA IS NOT

  Now that you have a preliminary understanding of loving-kindness practice, let’s review what it’s not in order to keep the practice from becoming unnecessarily complicated. It’s not:

  Selfish. The first step toward loving others is to love ourselves. The fault we find with ourselves will also be found in others. Metta teaches us to be kind to ourselves no matter what happens, even as we shape our behavior for the better.

  Complacent. Metta is a force of will—good will—that can override the instinctive tendencies of fear and anger. Metta frees us from old habits. It allows us to learn from pain and respond skillfully.

  Positive affirmation. Affirmations are an effort to encourage ourselves by saying things we may not believe, like “I’m getting stronger every day!” Metta isn’t fooling ourselves that our situation is better than it is. The phrases must be intellectually credible to work smoothly.

  Just a mantra. Although the metta phrases are repeated like a mantra, there’s more to it than that. In addition to using the power of attention, metta works with connection, intention, and emotion (discussed further in the next chapter). We’re doing whatever it takes to cultivate a loving attitude.

  Sugarcoating. We’re not trying to make the reality of our lives less harsh by learning to think or speak in a sweet way. Rather, we want to open to the depth of human experience, including the tragedy of it, more fully. This is possible only if we have a compassionate response to pain.

  A pity party. Opening to pain is not self-indulgent. We’re not wallowing in discomfort, complaining, or whining excessively. On the contrary, opening to pain through compassion allows us to unhook from the familiar story lines of our lives.

  Good feelings. Metta is primarily cultivation of good will rather than good feelings. Feelings come and go, but the ground of our being is the universal wish to be happy and free from suffering. That’s where we put our trust.

  Exhausting. Exhaustion is the result of attachment—wanting things to be one way and not the other. Loving-kindness and compassion stay away from the business of controlling reality so it’s more of a relief than a struggle.

  Demanding. Metta is always on the wishing side of the equation rather than the outcome side. Positive outcomes will certainly come with time, but we’re primarily learning to cultivate a kind attitude no matter what happens to us or to others. Sticking with the wish and remaining unattached to the outcome is unconditional love.

  I hope you’ll discover how to make loving-kindness practice a natural part of your day. The practice is deceptively simple, but it’s important to bring curiosity and flexibility to the matter. The guidelines given here are only a starting point. Follow your heart and, as Sharon Salzberg says, “See what happens.”

  Next we’ll turn our attention to others, especially those nettle-some characters who take up residence in our minds when we least expect or want them to.

  7

  caring for others

  High levels of compassion are nothing but an advanced state of self-interest.

  —TENZIN GYATSO, the 14th Dalai Lama

  This chapter will take what you’ve learned about caring for yourself and bring it to other relationships—the source of so much pain and joy in life. As you’ll see, self-compassion is an essential, often unrecognized, ingredient in maintaining healthy relationships.

  Some of you are already practicing loving-kindness meditation with other people, such as the beloved person who naturally makes you smile. But what about the difficult people in your life? Those folks can be a huge challenge to mindfulness and self-compassion. They also present you with an opportunity to deepen the practice. In this chapter, you’ll learn a systematic method for transforming your relationships with others, based on respect and care for yourself.

  Most of us find that giving kindness to others is easier and more palatable than loving ourselves. Some readers may still need special permission to focus on their own emotional needs. If you’re among them, this chapter on caring for others could feel like a sellout. Don’t worry; you’ll learn here how to keep yourself in the picture even in the midst of intense and conflicting demands by other people.

  “But can’t I just avoid the people who bother me?” Although it’s often a good idea to steer clear of problematic people, it’s not an effective strategy overall. Unless we’re hermits, we’ll have to deal with difficult people on the street, in a taxicab, at the grocery store, at work, at family reunions—just about everywhere. In the immortal words of British author Douglas Adams, “People are a problem.”

  And unfortunately people live in our heads as well. Even if you stand alone on a mountaintop, your mind will be chattering with other people. What’s the conversation you’re having with your mother-in-law, your stepfather, your sister, or your friend? How does it feel? We’re the first to feel the pain of our own negative emotions, as expressed in the Chinese proverb “Hatred corrodes the vessel in which it’s stored.”

  Changing our relationships to the people in our heads is the first step toward working with them in real time. After practicing loving-kindness meditation for 3
days on Rajiv, a surly middle-aged clerk at my neighborhood convenience store, I went there late at night to buy some milk. Seeing him as I walked through the door, I broke into a spontaneous smile. My previous habit was to pay my bill and leave as soon as possible, but this time I hung around and we chatted a bit. Only when I got home did I realize what had happened. By meditating on the struggle of this man living far from his native country, working late into the night selling lottery tickets to unhappy people, my aversion had quietly turned to curiosity and caring. Rajiv was none the wiser for my efforts. Transforming relationships with others starts with us; it’s an inside job.

  Experiences like this gave me the confidence to tackle more difficult characters in my life. Some people make me feel guilty, some make me angry, others trigger regret or longing. One by one they’ve yielded to the force of inner kindness: “Just as I want to be happy and free from suffering, so does_________________want to be happy and free from suffering.” Negative feelings toward others tend to separate us from ourselves and from others—they trigger aversion. Practicing loving-kindness for others has gradually made me feel less alone and more connected to life in general.

  In the words of the Buddha:

  Looking after oneself, one looks after others.