Metta for Monsters: Practicing a Different Response

What do we do when our mind gets caught in judgment, resentment, or anger? Or when that voice inside just won’t stop beating the shit out of us?

A lot of what I teach and practice is really about creating a pause when this happens. Can we learn to meet ourselves and our experience right in the moment? Can we get curious about what’s actually happening rather than immediately reacting to it? Can we give ourselves enough space to find some clarity and discernment around how we want to respond—especially when what we’re experiencing is difficult or really uncomfortable?

One of the practices that has helped me with this is Metta, or loving-kindness. Metta is one of the Brahmavihāras, sometimes called the Four Heart Practices in the Buddhist tradition: loving-kindness, compassion, appreciative joy, and equanimity or balanced mind. I have come to understand these practices not simply as states we’re trying to achieve, but as responses we can cultivate toward our experience. And Metta, for me, can be incredibly practical.

Something Kinder to Say

When my mind is caught in judgment toward myself or someone else, Metta gives me something kinder to say.

May I be at ease.
May I be at peace.
May I meet this pain with kindness.

Here’s the thing: Most of the time, when I need these phrases the most, I don’t feel that way.
That’s why the word may is so important to me. If I were sitting there pissed off, overwhelmed, or beating myself up and started repeating, I am at ease. I am at peace, my mind would call bullshit on that pretty quickly.

But “may I be at ease” is different. It’s a request, not a demand. It’s an invitation. I’m not trying to convince myself that I suddenly love somebody who pissed me off. I’m not trying to make my anger disappear. I’m not telling myself that I need to forgive someone who harmed me or someone I love. I’m creating a little space. A pause where I can ask: How do I actually feel right now? And then: How do I want to respond to this?

Kind Doesn’t Always Mean Nice

I also think it’s important to make a distinction between being kind and being nice. Loving-kindness doesn’t always look nice. Sometimes loving-kindness is saying no. Sometimes it’s setting a really clear boundary. Sometimes it’s walking away. Sometimes it’s saying nothing because we recognize that what we want to say in that moment is only going to create more harm. And sometimes kindness means recognizing that the way I’m speaking to myself right now is causing more suffering—and practicing something different. Kindness doesn’t require us to pretend that we’re okay when we’re not. It doesn’t require us to smile through anger, avoid conflict, or abandon our own experience in order to make somebody else comfortable. For me, kindness has something to do with an authentic, honest, and clear response to what’s actually happening.

The Monster Inside

Before we even get to the difficult people outside of us, there’s often a pretty difficult person living inside.

The inner critic.
The inner tyrant.
The inner asshole.
That roommate who won’t take out the trash and somehow has a lifetime lease.

We can spend an incredible amount of energy trying to get rid of that voice. But what if fighting the inner tyrant with another tyrant isn’t the answer?

What if we simply begin noticing it?

There’s that voice again. What happens in my body when I hear it? What does it feel like? And instead of immediately believing it, fighting it, or trying to make it disappear, can I introduce something different?

May I be at ease.
Maybe I believe it. Maybe I don’t.
For a moment, I’ve interrupted the pattern. Sometimes that’s enough.

And Then There Are the Monsters Outside

This practice becomes more complicated when we begin bringing in people we’re resentful toward, people who piss us off, people who betrayed us, or perhaps people who have caused real harm to us or someone we love.

I want to be really clear about something: Metta is not about forgiveness. It can become part of a path toward forgiveness, but you don’t have to forgive anybody. You don’t have to reconcile. You don’t have to let someone back into your life. You don’t have to remove a boundary. And you don’t have to pretend what they did wasn’t harmful.

One of the ways I’ve come to understand resentment is that we’re still in relationship with the person we’re resentful toward. We might not have seen them for twenty years. They may no longer be physically present in our lives at all. But they’re still taking up space in our minds and hearts. There’s still a hook there. Metta isn’t necessarily about letting them off that hook. Maybe it’s about slowly releasing the hook that’s still connected to our own heart. And we get to choose how and when we approach that. There is no requirement to bring the person who caused us the greatest harm into our practice. This isn’t about forcing ourselves somewhere we aren’t ready or willing to go. The practice itself can become an exploration of what feels possible.

A Different Response

This is ultimately why these teachings continue to matter so much to me. They aren’t just ideas I find interesting from the Buddhist tradition. They’re practices I’ve brought into my own messy life. Judgment. Anger. Resentment. Relationships. Fear. The ways I talk to myself. The ways I respond when I’m activated.

Metta gives me another response to practice. Not necessarily a nicer response. Not necessarily an easier response. But perhaps a response with a little more kindness, clarity, and discernment.

That’s what Kimber and I will be exploring together in our five-week Metta for Monsters series at the Sit.Feel.Heal. Meditation Center. Kimber brings a deep understanding of the Buddhist teachings and traditions, while I tend to approach these practices through our lived experience and relationships. I love the way those perspectives complement each other. We’ll meditate together, explore the teachings and practices of Metta, have conversations about what comes up, and then take the practice into our lives between classes.

That’s one reason I’m especially excited that this is a five-week series. We get to practice. Go live our lives. Come back. Talk about what happened. Notice where the practice felt supportive and where we struggled. And then go a little deeper. Because ultimately, that’s where the practice matters to me. Not whether I can feel loving-kindness while sitting quietly on a cushion. But whether I can remember that another response is possible when life gets difficult. May I be at ease. Maybe that’s enough to create the pause.