The Power of Intention

In the Theravada Buddhist realm we have a wonderful practice called metta, the first of the four “Brahma Viharas,” or Abodes of Brahma, a poetic description for an enlightened mind. For the record, the other Brahma Viharas are karuna (compassion), mudita (sympathetic joy), and upekkha (equanimity). Each of the Brahma Viharas depends on the other to stay in balance; without the ameliorating forces of all four, a single Brahma Vihara could easily devolve into a “near enemy,” defined as a state of mind that seems like a Brahma Vihara, but which is actually an afflictive mind state. (For example, “loving kindness” can turn into sentimentality, not a positive frame of mind but one that can fool you into thinking that you’re experiencing metta.)

Metta is a mental attribute, but it is also a specific practice, one of the very few described in the Pali Canon, the oldest surviving suttas in the Buddhist canon. Furthermore, the metta practice is outlined in the Sutta Nipata, an extremely old complication that lays plausible claim as the very earliest Buddhist collection of suttas to have survived. So metta has quite an impressive pedigree: it comes closer to any known meditation practice as having been taught by the Buddha himself.

Most samadhi, or concentration, forms of meditation require that one pick a point of concentration and stick to it. If the mind drifts away from the point of concentration (and it will, believe me it will) one brings one’s focus back to that single point. Over and over, for as long as one is practicing, one brings the mind back to the point of focus, rather like training a puppy to poop on the paper. That focal point can be almost anything, including such unlikely candidates as shaped discs of clay (attested in the literature) or that signature om mani padme hum of the Tibetan traditions, or the mantra that ends the Heart Sutra: gate, gate, paragate, parasamgate, Bodhi svaha!

Metta practice uses an intention as the focal point. One forms the intention of loving kindness, typically aided via a set of phrases that one repeats mentally; the phrases themselves are not metta, but the intentions that they represent are. Although the choice of phrases is personal, there are some Golden Oldies that many folks find useful. One begins by forming the metta intention around a target for whom such feelings are fairly easy to invoke; the “benefactor,” or person whose relationship is both positive and uncomplicated, makes an ideal starting point for many people. Wishing metta on oneself is another starting point, although that can prove challenging given the self-doubt that plagues so many of us. Then one moves gradually outwards to other targets — to a dear friend, then to a neutral person, and then into the realm of difficult people. Eventually the idea is to encompass all living beings in one’s metta, although getting to that point might take a good long while.

Folks who enter a period of intensive metta practice, such as spending months on retreat doing nothing but the practice during every waking hour, have an opportunity to discover the power of intention (and suggestion) writ large. With time and perseverance, this simple act of wishing beings to be safe, happy and healthy can become an overwhelming experience, transforming one’s outlook, emotions, and opinions. Maybe words are just words, but intentions — no matter how shakily formed or poorly sustained — have an enormous power.

Metta is a positive mindset. Hatred and alienation, on the other hand, are deeply afflictive but common human ills. How we can fixate on those negatives! How we can keep re-running stories of ills done us (real or imagined), how we can play out revenge fantasies, how we can work ourselves into a snit over practically nothing. That’s he power of intention, the mind carving a groove as it revisits a topic over and over again, constantly replaying a mental tape, plowing it deeper and deeper with each instance. The trench it plows can be rich and productive, or it can be a noxious dump. Unfortunately, the sewers outnumber the gardens.

And that’s why I have little doubt that this past weekend’s tragedy in Tucson had at least some media and political component to it. A disturbed mind is easily inclined towards obsession, and if the materials at hand are negative, then that’s what will start cutting those mental grooves. America’s poisonous political climate, with its nonstop rhetoric of negativity and shrill demonizing, can work its way into a weak, adolescent, or disturbed mind with shocking ease. And if mentally stable young folks are typically impressionable and easily manipulated, how much more so those who are suffering from mental disorders?

The name-calling, the demonizing, the over-the-top hyperbole needs to stop. Most of it is expended in the most woeful of human ailments, the quest for personal gain. The most heinous offenders (I don’t need to name them, do I?) are the ones who hanker after attention, the ones who need to boost their ratings or might need votes some day. They are putting on a good show. But in the process they are coating their hands in blood. The United States protects freedom of speech as a fundamental right, and that’s good. But Free Speech does not mean freedom to say whatever you want without consequences. It means freedom from government meddling in your speech. The Constitution speaks of the powers and restrictions of the government. It has nothing to say about the minds and intentions of the citizens, which it properly views as beyond its sphere of influence.

So for the citizens of the United States to exercise truly free speech, then they must learn to (freely!) value speech that is helpful, not hurtful; speech that avoids causing harm if it can; speech that results from the constant and sincere inquiry of an individual about the honest and true intentions of such speech, without the usual obfuscations or rationalizations of wishful thinking.

Ergo, the true exercise of Free Speech is hard as hell. It requires constant mindfulness, understanding, and absolute honesty. The other — using speech as a weapon, brandishing words carelessly and selfishly — is the path of least resistance, easily taken and followed, exited only with difficulty.

Are we good enough? Right now I don’t have a lot of confidence. But I’m ready to be happily surprised.

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