Can you really love yourself?

Complex Comrades! Graham here.

There’s a practice in Buddhism called 'metta', which translates to ‘lovingkindness’. 

They say it like that too, all one word. Lovingkindness. 

It’s the one where, as you’re meditating, you picture someone in your mind, and you think things like…

May you be safe…

May you be happy… 

May you be loved… 

Sharon Salzberg describes it as a kind of stretch for your mind. You start by picturing someone easy - your dog for instance - and you try to feel into those warm loving feelings you already have for them. 

May you be safe…

May you be happy…

May you one day resolve your issues with the postie in a safe, mutually beneficial way…

Then over time, you slowly crank up the stretch. You practice lovingkindness toward people you barely know. You practice lovingkindness toward people you find really challenging. You practice lovingkindness toward your dog again, but this time right after he’s found some gross old bone outside and proceeded to puke it up all over your brand new rug.

(Too specific?)

So… what’s the point of that?

I’ve tried lovingkindness practice a few times over the years, and found it equal parts intriguing and strange. At times I’ve wondered, ‘what exactly is the point of increasing your ability to feel warm feelings toward people you don’t even know, or people you don’t even like?’

And then lately, I think I finally get it.

Sure, there’s the obvious benefits of increasing your goodwill towards others. Maybe if I practice lovingkindness toward my neighbours, I’ll be less convinced they all secretly hate me?

But there’s another layer here. I think the point of all this freely dished out, utterly unearned love is to prepare you for the ultimate test. Feeling warm, loving feelings toward… yourself. 

(Eek!)

Conditional love

Because here’s the thing. When you’re having a particularly shit time, it’s hard to love yourself. (What??)

It’s hard to be gentle and warm and kind with yourself, even though that’s exactly what you need. The more overwhelmed you feel, the more easy it is to judge yourself for being so overwhelmed, to think ‘sure I’ll love myself… when I’ve got my shit together and I’m actually worthy of love.’

Which somehow doesn’t quite do the trick.

Loving the unlovable 

So practicing lovingkindness for others is a sneaky way of preparing the ground for loving yourself.

Joseph Goldstein puts it this way. He says, if you stay with it long enough, the practice of lovingkindness will eventually teach you something that at first appears quite odd. 

When you follow this practice, he says, meditating on lovingkindness for various random people in your life, what you discover is that “the feeling of lovingkindness does not depend on how the other person is. It does not depend on the other person being a certain way, because it’s a simple wish coming out of our own heart: ‘be happy’. Regardless of how the other person is.”

So it’s an unconditional love. 

And what I’m realising lately is, it’s exactly this kind of unconditional love I need to muster for myself and my current life situation. To somehow tap into love and warm feelings for myself, despite also being very, very convinced my life has all gone horribly wrong.

How’s that for a challenge?

‘I shouldn’t be like this’

I’ve been having a particularly rough time this last wee while. It’s not exactly that I’ve been judging or hating on myself directly. (I’ve actually been managing to be very gentle with myself this time around.) But I’ve been swimming in fear and worry, lost in worst case scenarios, convinced that my life situation right now is utterly unacceptable. 

All of which boils down to one simple, painful, and painfully familiar belief.

I shouldn’t be like this.

The way that I am, is wrong. 

I am wrong. 

In other words, I could really do with some love and kindness from myself. Specifically, the kind of love and warm feeling that’s not dependent on me being convinced I’m actually worthy of it. 

Good love is hard to find (especially for yourself)

But I’m not sure how to offer this kind of love to myself sincerely. Especially when I am so convinced I’ve taken such a drastic wrong turn. 

So I have been meditating, a lot. (More on that at some point.) I’ve just this week decided to include a lovingkindness meditation as part of my daily routine - specifically this one by Sharon Salzberg, which I like. 

But it feels like a long game. This guided meditation starts, like many of them do, with the person I find most difficult. Myself. 

‘May you be safe, be happy, be healthy…’

And so far I’ve found that’s the bit of the meditation where I’m the most in my head, thinking about the ways that despite my best wishes I don’t feel safe right now, the ways I’m not happy, not healthy. Then I get to the part of the meditation where you think about other people in your life, and the whole thing gets easier.

So I’m curious to see what happens if I keep it up, but in the meantime I’ve been doing something else that I’m realising fills a similar role for me right now. A simple routine that’s crept up on me.

I’ve been walking by the creek.

Falling in love with your local body of water

It’s one particular creek. And I’ve been wandering along its winding course every morning and most evenings, for most of this long, strange year. 

I walk by the creek when it’s dry, and you can cross it using one of the stone half-paths that sometimes move under your feet. I walk by the creek when it’s flooded, and the ducks are wheeling through their new-found real estate. I walk by the creek when it’s full of plastic, washed through by the rains.

And I love this creek, whatever state it’s in.

Bodie quite likes it too...

I think this is what Joseph Goldstein is talking about, a love that doesn’t depend on “how the other person is”. (Or in my case, a love that doesn’t depend on whether the other person is even a person, or a body of water…)

Lately in particular, I’ll go and stand at one of those spots with the big stones sticking up - not so I can cross to the other side, but just to listen to the endless rush of the water. 

I’ve never really been a cryer, even on days where crying seems the only honest thing to do. So instead I’ll simply stand on one of those rocks in the middle of the water, and let the creek do the talking.

An intermediary

I’ll take this creek whatever state it’s in, but it’s not just that. This feeling goes both ways. 

I can come down here no matter what’s going on in my brain. And I don’t need to explain a thing.

It’s a kind of intermediary. If mustering unconditional acceptance for myself feels out of reach right now, I can always go down to the creek. 

This daily rhythm, this coming and going no matter what state I’m in, it’s a form of lovingkindness, but without the words. Without the language traps of loaded terms like ‘love’ and ‘happiness’ that can often just send me spiralling again.

So I’ll keep trying the more formal lovingkindness practice - I’m curious where that might take me. But I’ll also keep walking by the creek.

Coming and going day to day, in whatever state we find each other.

More salacious creek content...

Read about how the creek helped me find some balance again way back in January when I was having a real weird time: 

Issue #069: Big feels and altered states

Responses to last issue

Many responses to last issue, about days when life feels hopeless. I touched on the feeling of needing to get everything right, which can so easily slide into feeling you’re getting everything wrong.

From Lisa:

“I related A LOT to this issue. I have a really strong sense of 'right' and 'wrong', which guides most of my daily decisions and actions. This can be beneficial, when I use my values to guide important decisions - e.g. my job, my housemates, my friends. But it can also be stifling, like when I get stuck in the pasta aisle of the supermarket because I can't find a packet of pasta that meets all my values. 

I'm trying to give myself more space to make mistakes/fail, so I can learn to be more comfortable if I've made a 'wrong' decision. It's unrealistic to expect that I will 'get things right' all of the time.”

That’s it hey. And I would add, we probably won't get *that* right all the time either - that willingness to make space for mistakes - and that's all part of the experiment?

Finally, this message from Claire, which is a lovely version of a message we get a lot:

“You make me feel a lot less ridiculous. Thanks for putting into words the gunk that so often floats around in my head.”

It’s that time of year when it’s particularly easy to feel a bit ridiculous, because, well, Christmas is a lot. So I'm wishing you all head-gunk solidarity.

See you in the new year. 

(Or in the pasta aisle.) 

(Or, let’s be honest, down by the creek.)