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Brahmavihāras: Appreciative Joy (4 of 5)

The most classic Theravāda^[1] discussion about the practice of brahmavihāras^[2]—these four divine homes for our hearts and our minds—discusses how we can use ourselves as an example for how to understand the well-being of others. To cultivate loving-kindness for oneself is not meant to be selfish and self-focused; it is really meant to be a preparation to be able to do loving-kindness towards the world around us. The description says that by having oneself as an example—"Oh, this is what it's like to have love. This is what it's like to receive kindness from someone"—then there is more embodiment, a more sense of understanding of how to connect to others, understand others, and do it for them as well.

The same thing applies with muditā^[3], with appreciative joy. Sometimes it is hard to do it for oneself, but to the degree to which we can have some sense of recognizing ourselves as something to affirm—"Yes, that's good. That's good about ourselves"—yes, even if 99 percent of ourselves is not so good, maybe that one percent is appropriate to affirm. The 10 percent that's good, or the 55 percent, or the 45—whatever it is that's good in you—to affirm it, to celebrate it, to enjoy it, to appreciate it.

It is so sad to not feel some appreciation for oneself, or some joy even in ourselves, because we are kept hostage by what is not so good about ourselves. Of course, everyone has their shortcomings. Everyone has something that they could find, their psychological warts, their foibles. It comes with being human, of course. But it's so sad to focus so much on that, that we kind of deny, or ignore, or push aside that part of us which is actually good, or happy, or wholesome. Sometimes it is really appropriate to not hold what's good in captivity by what is not so good, but spend some time appreciating the wholesome and the good in ourselves. So feel joy in oneself, discover appreciation for what we can appreciate in life, and be grateful.

Nowadays, there is a practice of writing down what you were grateful for every day, or just reviewing it. I haven't done the writing exercise, but I certainly have done end-of-the-day thinking about what I appreciate about the day, what I'm grateful for in the day. It's such a wonderful thing to do. I just feel so buoyed, delighted, and lightened by it, and sometimes it's hard not to smile thinking about it. What I find surprising is that I feel more joy at the end of the day thinking about it than I did while it was happening. Somehow I was busy living my life and taking things for granted, or just too involved in things to really appreciate the goodness of it. So at the end of the day, to have that practice of appreciation and gratitude, including appreciation for oneself and gratitude for what is to be grateful for in ourselves, is very valuable.

We are not making this a selfish practice. We can think that we're doing this partly so that we are more able to offer affirmation, appreciation, gratitude, and rejoicing for others. That is really one of the great gifts of life: this ability to step forward and rejoice, and be happy and delighted in the success, the good fortune, and the happiness of other people.

I said this earlier, that it's very commonly believed that muditā is the hardest brahmavihāra because of envy, jealousy, fear of opening up, and fear of sharing that joy with other people. We feel bad about ourselves if we compare ourselves to others who are happier than we are. All these complications come in; people get mean and bitter sometimes around the success of other people. But this muditā is just one of the greatest delights, because it's really a dropping away of self-preoccupation and selfishness, and an opening up.

We experience our own well-being, our own joy, and self-appreciation as a means to dissolve or let go of self-concern, to step forward and have a reference point inside of ourselves. We just open up and kind of—not exactly lose ourselves, but close to it—in the delight and joy of others. We rejoice, "Oh, this is great!" It's a happiness and a joy that involves no loss. It involves no need, no neediness, and no cost. It involves no asserting ourselves onto people and having no agenda of what we want from others. What needs to happen is not an exchange. It's not, "If I congratulate them and appreciate them and rejoice in them, then they better do it for me." It's very simple: we don't lose anything by this kind of rejoicing. If anything, we gain from ourselves in our ability to open and share.

It is a wonderful contagion of joy. Other people's joy, well-being, or success is contagious; it affects us. In viewing that, it is kind of a secondary joy. It's a derived joy, because the original one is there with the other person, and we have a secondary continuation of it. It's a wonderful thing to let joy be contagious or continue, to have a life that is beyond itself and goes on to another person. When we rejoice in other people's joy, we are then passing it on. In a sense, not necessarily intentionally, but if anybody is around us in the aftermath of how we are, really affirming the joy and well-being of others, maybe there's a tertiary joy. They appreciate the aftereffects of that, and how we are as well.

This wonderful, cost-free exchange and contagion of joy and well-being—I think of it as a form of love. Joy given is a form of love. Muditā is not a giving that is assertive, and it's not giving anything material. It's no cost for us if we spontaneously feel this delight and joy, and we express it and affirm it in words, deeds, and thought so that other people can understand that we feel that way. It's a way of expressing love.

Our love of others rejoices. The rejoicing of muditā is the opposite of regret. It's the opposite of hopelessness. It's also the opposite of hope in a certain kind of way. Hope is more about how things will be in the future. Muditā is more of a celebration of what's here in the present, recognizing the goodness that's here, recognizing what can be appreciated here and now.

As we practice, as we develop greater capacity to center ourselves, to be in the present, and to be grounded deep inside where our goodness is—where our sense of lack of hostility, lack of meanness, lack of greed, and lack of fear is—then we have a reference point for how other people have that capacity as well. Then we can tune into people more and more deeply. They say that the more deeply mature a person has become in this practice, the more free they are. They are more able to recognize the freedom of others. If a person is not free, they can't see it; they have no idea what it is, and it's invisible to them when they see it in others. But when they are with people who have some degree of freedom, it becomes visible.

The same is true for a deep sense of inner well-being, joy, and harmony. If we don't have it for ourselves, it's harder to feel it and sense it in others. But once we begin to feel it in ourselves, then feeling it in others becomes a reinforcement for it to grow in ourselves. The freedom of others reinforces our own freedom; the joy of others reinforces our own joy and delight, if we have a reference point inside where we can feel it and know it in ourselves.

I am saying this as an encouragement to do your practice. What a great thing it is to really do the work, to show up in the present moment, to not be distracted, to be really present. It's slow work, it's deep work, and it's worthwhile work. As we center ourselves and settle ourselves in this deeper and deeper place of maturity, freedom, or joy, we begin recognizing it more and more in the world. Then our affirmation of it, our celebration of it, supports it and grows it in the world, and it grows within ourselves. It becomes this wonderful circle of joy, rejoicing, celebration, deep appreciation, and deep respect.

Even when we are with someone who is suffering a lot, or even if we are suffering a lot, there is access to see that there's more than suffering going on. Who knows, when you meet someone who is suffering tremendously, it might be one of the greatest gifts you can give them: that you have the capacity to tune into their goodness, to the place inside of them where a little flame is alive—of well-being, of joy, of peace. Because you recognize it, maybe then you can be a mirror for them for that flame. That flame can grow and develop, that light can grow and develop, so they can experience joy and peace in the midst of their great challenges.

So, muditā. There is the practice of muditā that we did a little bit in a guided meditation^[4], and you could start with yourself, or you can start with someone who is really easy to have muditā for—a benefactor, an uncomplicated friend. To do the practice of muditā is to begin to stretch that muditā until you can even feel muditā for people who are hostile to you. Not only can you find that little light to celebrate and appreciate in people who are in great suffering, but you can even discover how to open your heart to people hostile to you.

Occasionally, you find that that's the medicine that quiets the hostility: that they understand that you appreciate something about them. Not their behavior, not what they say, but maybe you can tune into something in them that's worth respecting, valuing, and appreciating, and have some muditā for them. May it be that we become catalysts for the growth of joy and appreciation for all beings. Thank you.