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Brahmavihāras: Appreciative Joy (3 of 5)

This is the third talk on appreciative joy, muditā^[1]. All these brahmavihāras^[2] come along with an intentionality, a sense of purpose, or an inspiration to really gather and orient ourselves around these qualities. Rather than just appreciating them when they happen to appear, we make them a practice, an orientation for our lives.

It is possible to choose them individually and spend a week, like we are now, with any one of them. It is also possible that the primary intent or purpose is keeping the heart open. To say it a different way, it is to really stay present, attentive, and aware, to receive and let register fully the experience of our life in our present moment. As we go through our lives, now is the most important time. This is the most important thing, regardless of what it is, because this is the only time in which you will be conscious for this moment. Your lived experience is so valuable.

Rather than judging the present moment by what you're doing, what you're involved in, what you're not doing, thinking there are more important things someplace else, or just wanting to get to a place in time where something wonderful is going to be, we shortchange ourselves. Because another whole half, at least, of what's going on is that we're conscious, aware, present, and alive in this moment. There is a way of appreciating that. Basically, being present for everything and having an open heart towards everything is also a way of being present and open to ourselves and to the preciousness of this lived moment here.

With the intent to live with an open heart, as we go through the day, different ones of these brahmavihāras might get awakened or evoked. When we feel friendliness towards people and want their welfare, then it is mettā^[3], loving-kindness. When people are suffering, with that open heart, we feel for their suffering. We care for them, want the suffering to end, and they have our sympathy. And when things are going well, then we have muditā. We celebrate with them, we rejoice, we're happy for them, and we share in their happiness.

In a sense, their good fortune is giving us a chance. It is a gift to us to feel pīti^[4], joy, and happiness. And our happiness and our joy in their success and good fortune is a kind of gift to them. It is a mutual giving of joy. What a great world it would be if we had this mutual circle of joy and delight that we give for each other. So, muditā.

It also comes with a sense of intent, a sense of purpose. Classically, in doing muditā practice, the intention is captured in a certain phrase. My favorite one is from a text from about fifteen hundred years ago called The Path of Freedom (Vimuttimagga)^[5], not The Path of Purification (Visuddhimagga)^[6].

A little footnote here: when I was young, I wanted to be an archaeologist and dig in the ground for old ruins and find things from long ago. That is nice, but now I read these Buddhist texts composed 1,500, 2,000, or 2,500 years ago. Some of those were written at times when I was going to explore those civilizations through archaeology. Now, I don't find the stones, ruins, and material objects from those times. Rather, you find these beautiful expressions of inner development and cultivation—how these people in the ancient world developed their hearts and minds, what they valued, and how they understood themselves from the inside out. This is something you can't really see so much from the archaeological stones that might be found. It is a little bit simplistic what I said, but still, an archaeology of the soul is what is found.

And so, in this ancient 1,500-year-old text, the intentionality around muditā is expressed this way: "Sādhu." Sādhu^[7] is the Pali word for 'excellent'. "May this goodness, may this fortune continue for a long time." This idea certainly is excellent. Sādhu. I like to think it is like the English, "Yes! Yes!" That is just a happy exclamation of joy and affirmation of something. Yes, and may this continue for a long time.

This "long time" for me is very important because you're celebrating something that is worthwhile having for a long time. If it is simply some kind of pleasure, if it's simply that someone has a chance to go to the amusement park and they're really delighted by all the wonderful things there, after a few years of living in an amusement park, it is not going to be an ongoing source of happiness. It is quite conditioned by the excitement of the moment of being there. But there is happiness, joy, and goodness that is sustainable, that nourishes us and supports us, that is worthwhile having for a long time. To really affirm that, to celebrate and enjoy—may what is good in you, may what is good here continue for a long time.

Now, the same text talks about this movement of open-hearted affirmation, of sādhu, of "yes," as being an antidote for fear, or a movement of non-fear. Certainly, we can reflect on how many times the unwillingness to appreciate others, to celebrate, to really enjoy and affirm what's happening comes from fear. Socially, it is challenging. What are the implications of it? Will they take advantage of us? Is it embarrassing for us to do that, or is it inappropriate? There is fear there.

But as we discover this way of living an intent, purposeful life of mindfulness that is really here, we also, with time, learn how to be safe here. We learn how not to pick up, react, judge, and take in so much of what goes on in the world. It is easier then to feel non-fear and just stand on our own two feet. Not leaning in, not expecting anything, not pulling back. This may be the wrong term in the modern United States, but you "stand your ground." But you stand your ground with your arms wide open. You are certainly a safe person for people. And yes, yes, how wonderful, may this continue for a long time.

So, in this more classical period of Theravāda^[8] Buddhism, as one practices, one repeats this phrase: "May this success continue. May this good fortune go on for people." There is an intent of support, a hope, an aspiration for this person to keep experiencing it. When I do it, it's not so much hoping this particular good fortune continues, but rather that the capacity they had that led to it—this inner, deeper place that makes it possible for them to feel joy, happiness, and well-being—may that place stay awake. May that place still operate in them and be supported and recognized.

Part of muditā practice is having this intent, this motivation, or maybe an aspiration—this wish for goodness, for good fortune, and the happiness of others to continue.

But that also makes appreciative joy a little bit more complicated. It is wonderful to do this, but it is more cognitive. Something a little bit more has to wake up in the mind to have that wish. In the teachings of the Buddha, he talks about the practice of muditā without any reference to establishing a clear intention, aspiration, or wish that could be encapsulated in a phrase. Rather, it is just feeling joy, rejoicing in the good fortune of others. You don't even have to be in the person's presence. They don't have to know that you're wishing for it to continue. It comes from a simpler place inside. It's just that we're open and available, ready to say "yes" and to feel, "Ah, yes, this is wonderful, how nice, this is good." We don't even have to say those words, but there is a resonance. When our heart and inner life are open and present, and not preoccupied with our thoughts, we are affected in a nice way by the good things we see in the world, the good things people are doing, the success and happiness they have. There is a feeling of abundance that happens: "Oh yes, this is great."

This movement of feeling joy for things around us that are joy-producing requires the mind to not be crowded. A crowded mind cannot feel much love. It cannot feel much joy and delight in the world around us. Part of the function of meditation and mindfulness is to not crowd the mind with thoughts, ideas, reactions, judgments, and commentary, which are more often than not disconnected from the present moment. We learn to quiet the mind enough so it is not so crowded, and the thoughts don't race so fast, jumping from one to the next.

It also requires a mind that is not so scattered, random, or purposeless, where we just give over to our mind to jump around and do whatever it wants, like kids who have free rein of the house because the parents are gone. To cultivate a life of purpose and intent in Buddhism is to begin cutting through or stabilizing the crowded, scattered, and agitated mind, so that some of the most wonderful parts of who we are have a chance and have room to be there for us. One of the wonderful parts of our lives is appreciative joy—our capacity to say, "Yes! Yes, this is wonderful. Yes, I rejoice in this. Yes, may this good fortune continue for you for a long time."

So, a life of intent. For this day, there are twenty-four hours. You might see if you can have a little more sense of intent, a sense of purpose, or a heightened value in living the day with muditā, with appreciative joy. Be ready to rejoice and notice what's worth appreciating, appreciating what can be appreciated. To remind yourself, you might tie a string around your finger or put a sticky note in a place where you see it all the time and write, "Rejoice" or "Appreciative Joy". Have conversations with people about this. May you spend the day with appreciation, even in the midst of whatever challenges you have—not instead of them. Thank you, and I wish you well.