Saturday, March 3, 2012

Metta, part the first

I only learned the term Metta recently; I knew the term lovingkindness, a lovely comforting and comfortable word. So many letters all crammed together like a nice squishy hug, a nice long word like arms spread out to say, "I love you this much." Lovingkindness meant something different than either word separately; I always saw the word as an overall serene benevolence, a soft smile that misses no sentient being in its scope (and to me the smile encompasses the vegetable and mineral kingdoms as well as the animals). Lovingkindness is the state of being or emotion that reminds me the most of deism, because in my early religious training I was taught of a benevolent god who loves all his creation, and I associate lovingkindness with the state of mind that such a god would possess all the time.

Metta is different. Metta sounds like meta, which means several things to me: it has its computer meanings (e.g., metadata), its scientific meanings (e.g., metatarsal bones), and other meanings that come from its Greek origins as a prefix meaning after, next to, or regarding the self (e.g., metatarsals are the bones next to or after the tarsals, and meta-emotion is a person's emotion about his/her own emotion).

Metta practice is a meditation on lovingkindness in which one first thinks compassionate thoughts towards oneself (meta-Metta when meta refers to self), then towards someone close (meta-Metta when meta refers to next to), then towards someone who's not as close (meta-Metta when meta refers to after), and then towards everyone (meta-Metta when meta refers to beyond). The bigger picture is that all these various separations—I, you, he, they, others—are artificial. In truth we are not separate from each other, and metta is a way to remember that.

Considering how difficult that concept is, it's easier to start with thinking compassionate thoughts as close as our own hearts, and then letting the compassion spread out in expanding waves just like the ripples of a pebble in a pond. The waves begin at the center place where the stone plops into the water, and then roll out in circles that continue to expand farther and farther way from the center point until they reach to the edges of the pond on all sides. The vibrations never stop until the entire surface of the water has been affected; not only that, they don't even stop at the shore, but bounce back off the edges and ripple back into the middle of the pond again.

Poetry Info

There's a show on the CUNY channel* called Voices and Visions that has various different kinds of films about poets.
Next week it's supposed to be a repeat of their show on William Carlos Williams, although on cuny.tv's schedule it says it'll be a show on Hart Crane. I'm hoping the cable TV's schedule is the right one, because I saw the Williams episode before and enjoyed it.

This is Just to Say, by William Carlos Williams
artwork by Ivan Boothe, on quixoticlife.net


*For those of you not in New York, CUNY is the City University of New York; CUNY TV is their television station, on Channel 75 on the various NYC cable stations. They have podcasts and YouTube videos of a bunch of their shows for all you out-of-region folks, but sadly I don't think Voices and Visions is one of them.