Prayers for the Day on Loving Kindness

It might not be true that ‘All you need is Love’, but who can doubt that all of us, and the whole world, need much more kindness?

Over the next few days, I’ll be exploring themes from the Buddhist teachings on loving kindness as a quality we can develop, drawing on a meditation practice with five stages that direct kindness to ourselves, then to different kinds of people and finally to everyone in the world.

The first stage – feeling kindness for ourselves – can be the most challenging. People tell me they love their families and give to others, but are very hard on themselves. We seek flaws in ourselves that we’d forgive in others, and measure ourselves against an imaginary standard we can never reach. Socially isolated or locked down, we can find we’re alone with someone we don’t like – ourselves.

For Buddhism, it isn’t selfish us to regard ourselves with kindness. Sensing our own value is the starting point for a happy life and supporting others. Imagine viewing yourself through the eyes of a friend who loves you; or a mother gazing on her only child, and cherishing them as a unique being. We can love ourselves with all our faults, failures and tummy flab.

A pause to reflect, meditate or pray is also a chance to connect with our capacity to appreciate ourselves just as we are. That reflection can be a prayer.

This is my time on earth, this is the only life I have.

 I am worthy of love and respect.

There are many ways to tell the story of your life. But have you ever thought of it as the story of your friendships?

The earliest friends I recall are the fellow-toddlers who shared the perils and adventures of the playground. There were childhood friendships formed with a simple, ‘Will you be my friend?’ There were best friends – made and then lost because I tired of them or, more painfully, they tired of me. There were the more complicated friendship groups in teenage years, where we figured out together how to be independent.

The more I reflect on friendships the richer this area seems. As an adult, there are people I look up to – guides, mentors and what Buddhists call ‘spiritual friends’. Then have been many peers and colleagues with whom I’ve been friendly, and sometimes the connection has deepened into a lasting friendship. Reflecting in this way, I recognise how important my friendships have been. Along with my family, my friends are the most important people in my life.

I confess that I often take friendships for granted, only to find that they fade. Some friends have died, leaving both sadness and regret for lost opportunities. As Dr Johnson said, ‘You must keep your friendships in good repair.’

Through friendship, I also connect with something precious in myself. I care about my friends with a warm, open-hearted generosity, which is the seed of a much wider compassion.

Thinking of my friends, may I open my heart with love.

May I cherish them, whatever they need.

In the second covid lockdown I’ve missed the rituals that made the first more bearable. I miss clapping in the street on Thursday evenings and sharing the moment with my neighbours. Cocooned in our households, we were both isolated and uncomfortably close to our immediate families. Applauding together reminded me that everyone else was sharing my strange experience.

I know the people in my street a bit, but not well. I can’t say they’re my friends, but neither do I dislike them. They’re people to greet with a polite hello and my feelings are broadly neutral.

That’s natural, but Buddhist practice teaches me that it’s possible to go further if I use my imagination. I know that every stranger is a human being and therefore like me, in many ways. They think and feel. They want to be happy and avoid suffering, and have their own ways to find it. Like me, they are born and grow old; and our lives share a common destination.

It can be surprisingly powerful to connect with people in the neutral zone of our lives. The woman in the shop; the man on the bus; the neighbours we usually don’t see. Each has a vivid life we just glimpse. That’s what happened when we all emerged from our houses, clapped together and the applause reverberated across the city.

I speak this prayer:

I am not alone. I share my life with others.

May my heart and mind open to their lives and struggles.

It’s easy to speak warmly of kindness and compassion. Of course, I would much rather be a kind person than an unkind one, and I can easily fantasise about being kind to everyone. But what about the reality?

One of Dostoyevsky’s characters says ‘the more I love mankind in general, the less I love people in particular.’ But Buddhism teaches that if we want to be compassionate, in truth and not just in our fantasies, we must include people we dislike.

I can’t think of anyone I’d call ‘an enemy’, but there are certainly people who try to get their way at my expense, or who irritate, annoy or provoke me. There are chance encounters on the road with people who are rude or aggressive; and unresolved tensions with family members.

I don’t think I’m alone. All our lives contain people we dislike, and if you’ve been treated badly by someone, you may have strong reasons. But anger and resentment can be a painful weight in our hearts and minds, and, as Buddhism teaches, they cause us to suffer.

Including difficult people in a wider compassion doesn’t mean pretending to like them. But we can reflect that they’re people, just like us, who want to be happy and avoid suffering. With this wider perspective we can sincerely wish someone well, even if we don’t like them:

May I learn to put down my anger, rather than being driven by it.

May I recognise the humanity I share with the people I dislike.

Last Christmas, stuffed with food and wading through piles of  presents, I decided to allocate a certain amount of money to give away. I enlisted my son and together we watched videos about charities that caught our eye.

‘Three charities,’ I said, ‘Let’s decide which ones.’ It was sobering to expose ourselves to so many needs. Famine in Africa. Homelessness. Sick children. Caste discrimination in India. The preoccupation with presents faded as we sensed the big world beyond our little family and felt the impulse to respond.

It was hard to choose, so my son put in some of his own money and I put in some more. Our Giving Pot expanded. We felt excited – maybe a little smug, but we also sensed a connection to our new friends in a children’s hospital, a local charity and a big relief organisation.

That expansive sense of connection and care is what Buddhism means by loving kindness or compassion. It starts with small, everyday acts, like giving to a charity. These are the sparks.

What I’ve learned through practising Buddhist loving kindness meditation is that, if you cherish those sparks and encourage them, they can grow into a fiery sun that blazes love and compassion, touching the people we know, whether we like them or not, and expanding throughout the world.

When the Buddha taught about this thousands of years ago he made his teaching into a prayer:

Let our thoughts of boundless love pervade the whole world: above, below and across without obstruction, without any hatred, without any enmity.

May all beings be well. May they be happy. May they not suffer.