Metta meditation: a loving-kindness practice for self and others
Loving-kindness practice sounds, at first hearing, like something for gentle souls with infinite patience. Many Australians roll their eyes a little at the idea, preferring to have a crack at things with a bit of grit rather than sit still and repeat kind words. The truth is rather different. Metta, the ancient Pali term for boundless goodwill, is one of the most direct routes to a quieter mind, a softer heart and a stronger sense of inner peace that I have come across in years of speaking with healers and teachers.
The practice itself is simple. You repeat a series of phrases wishing well-being first for yourself, then for someone you love, then for a stranger, then for a difficult person, and finally for all beings. That repetition, anchored in the body with the breath, gently rewires the nervous system and loosens the hard stories we carry about ourselves and others. It is not religious, not aspirational in a wishful-thinking sense, and certainly not woo. Research from universities in Melbourne, Sydney and Perth now backs what monastics in Southeast Asia have known for two and a half thousand years.
Here in Australia the practice has quietly found a place in ordinary life. You will find metta sitting in many a Byron Bay retreat schedule, in the meditation halls of Nan Tien Temple on the escarpment above Wollongong, and in the quiet corners of suburban living rooms where someone has put down their phone after a long arvo and lit a candle. Smiling Mind, the meditation app developed in Melbourne, has brought versions of it into hundreds of school classrooms and corporate wellbeing programs across the country.
What follows is a practical guide to practising loving-kindness meditation for both yourself and the people around you, including those who make life harder than it needs to be. There is no dogma here, only a sequence of gentle steps that you can take into a chair in your living room, onto a park bench in Kings Park, or out onto the coastal walk between Bondi and Bronte.
What loving-kindness meditation really means
Metta is often translated as loving-kindness, friendliness, or unconditional goodwill. It describes a quality of heart that wishes well-being for all beings without exception, including the one sitting on the cushion. The Pali canon, the earliest written record of the Buddha's teachings, places metta at the foundation of mental cultivation. The monk Buddhaghosa wrote in the fifth century that metta is the wish for the welfare and happiness of all beings, the desire to remove their suffering and the readiness to help them however one can.
Modern teachers tend to separate metta from its sister qualities. Empathy is the capacity to feel with another person. Compassion is the wish to relieve the suffering you sense in them. Metta is broader and warmer than either. It does not require you to take on another person's pain, nor to fix anything. It simply radiates a steady wish that they be safe, healthy, at peace and able to move through life with a little more ease.
The traditional sequence works with five recipients: yourself, a beloved person, a neutral person such as someone you see at the cafe, a difficult person, and finally all beings everywhere. Starting with yourself is not selfish. The reasoning is pragmatic. You cannot sincerely wish others well-being while quietly despising yourself. The self-directed phase builds the inner reserve from which the rest of the practice flows.
Traditional Pali phrases versus modern spoken affirmations
Most beginners wonder which words to repeat. The classical Pali verses are still taught in many Australian vipassana centres and Buddhist societies, while secular teachers have adapted simpler English phrases that suit a busy life. Both work. The table below outlines the differences so you can choose what feels right.
| Element | Traditional Pali approach | Modern spoken adaptation |
|---|---|---|
| Language | Pali or Sanskrit, sometimes chanted aloud | Plain English, spoken silently or aloud |
| Typical phrases | "May I be free from enmity, may I be free from ill will, may I be free from anxiety, may I be happy" | "May I be safe, may I be healthy, may I be at peace, may I live with ease" |
| Pace | Slower, often metrical and meditative | Slightly faster, easier to remember |
| Best for | Those drawn to traditional liturgy or working with a teacher | Beginners, busy parents, workplace settings, secular contexts |
| Cultural setting | Forest monastery tradition, often linked to Thai or Burmese lineages | Mindful adapting, common in Australian mindfulness apps and retreats |
Both approaches ask the same thing of the mind: to soften, to include, to widen. Choose the one that lets your attention settle rather than strain. If you are uncertain, start with the modern adaptation and graduate to the traditional verses once the practice feels familiar.
A simple step-by-step practice
Find somewhere you can sit without being disturbed for fifteen minutes. A chair with your feet flat on the floor is perfectly fine. Australians often prefer a firm meditation stool or even a folded blanket on the floor, but the spine wants to be upright, awake, and at ease. Let your hands rest on your thighs. Soften the jaw. Let the shoulders drop away from the ears.
Bring your attention to the breath for a few rounds. There is no special technique here. Notice the cool air entering the nostrils and the warmer air leaving. When the mind wanders, and it will, simply notice where it went and gently bring it back. After three or four breaths, begin to repeat the phrases for yourself, either silently or in a soft voice. May I be safe. May I be healthy. May I be at peace. May I live with ease. Let each phrase rest in the chest for a full breath before moving to the next.
After two or three minutes, picture someone who has been kind to you, perhaps a grandparent, an old teacher, or a mate who always has time for a yarn. Repeat the phrases for them, feeling the warmth of that connection. After a few rounds, let their image fade and bring in someone neutral, perhaps the barista who makes your morning coffee, or a stranger you saw on the train. Continue the phrases, then move next to someone you find difficult and finally widen the field to include all beings in your street, your suburb, your country.
Sending kindness outward, even to difficult people
The stage of the practice aimed at a difficult person is the one most beginners, and most seasoned meditators, avoid for as long as possible. It feels wrong to wish someone well who has hurt you, sidelined you, or simply not seen you. The Australian instinct to give it a fair go applies here too, though it usually asks for patience.
The purpose is not to forgive prematurely or to pretend the difficult person did nothing wrong. The phrases are a tool for loosening the storyline. Every time resentment is rehearsed, the brain lays down fresh neural tracks that reinforce the grudge. Repeating may you be safe, may you be healthy, may you be at peace interrupts that rehearsal. Over weeks, the heat softens and the relationship takes up less and less space in the chest.
If genuine warmth feels far away, begin with neutrality. Wish them freedom from suffering rather than bonding to them. Some practitioners, when working with a difficult ex-partner or a former employer, simply visualise that person's hands and feet and direct the phrases there. It reads as less like betrayal of your own pain and more like quiet psychological distancing. Practitioners who struggle with this stage often find that real letting go of control sits just beneath the surface of the metta phrases. The two practices feed each other.
When the heart resists: common hurdles
You will meet resistance. That is the practice, not a sign of failure. The most common hurdle in Australia is the cultural suspicion of anything labelled spiritual. The phrase no worries doubles as a national mantra and as a kind of armour against feelings. Sitting quietly with the wish for one's own wellbeing can, at first, feel embarrassingly soft.
Boredom is the second hurdle. The repetition feels dull. The mind looks for entertainment. The remedy is to notice the boredom as a sensation in the body, perhaps as a tightening behind the eyes or a vague restlessness in the legs. Continue anyway. The dullness often gives way to a quieter, more spacious awareness by the tenth minute.
A third hurdle is what some teachers call the wall of stone. You may sit down for a session and feel nothing at all. No warmth, no openness, no softening. Treat that as another weather pattern of the mind. Some days the heart is locked. Bring the phrases back to the basics, shorter, simpler, almost a childlike whisper, and let the heart catch up when it is ready.
Walking metta in the Australian landscape
Walking meditation is a natural companion to seated practice, particularly in a country where bushwalking is woven into the national identity. Many people feel more comfortable moving than sitting, and metta can be carried into the steps quite easily. As you walk along the coastal path, through the jarrah forest, or up a gentle ridge in the Adelaide Hills, coordinate the phrases with the rhythm of your feet.
Byron Bay and the surrounding Northern Rivers region have long attracted meditators. The Buddhist communities of the area, along with retreat centres near Mullumbimby, host regular metta evenings. Closer to the cities, the Australian Sangha Association supports groups in most capitals, and many of them hold open sittings on Sunday mornings where newcomers are warmly received. There is also a rich secular mindfulness culture here. The team behind Smiling Mind, founded in Melbourne by a paediatrician concerned about adolescent mental health, has built a free library of loving-kindness sessions in the same clear, gentle voice you hear on the SBS evening news. On the radio you will hear thoughtful Sheila and Hans broadcast conversations about the heart, where teachers unpack metta with the same warmth they bring to a long-form interview. Listening along while walking is a quiet way to deepen the practice.
Pairing metta with your existing practice
Loving-kindness sits comfortably beside almost anything else you already do. If you practise yoga, try five minutes of metta at the end of a session while you rest in savasana. If you pray, weave the phrases into the silence after the formal words. If you journal, write down a few sentences after each session about what you noticed in the heart.
A simple weekly rhythm works for many Australians. Ten minutes each morning on the days you work, perhaps a longer half hour on a Saturday morning in the back garden. Set a calendar reminder with the words schedule and treat it as unbreakable as a coffee with a friend. Consistency matters far more than duration. A daily ten minutes will change your inner landscape more than a single two-hour session every few weeks. Within a few months, the wish for the wellbeing of others will begin to feel like a natural reflex rather than an effort of will.
Try this tomorrow morning before you check your phone. Sit somewhere quiet, perhaps near an open window with the morning air coming in. Repeat may I be safe, may I be healthy, may I be at peace, may I live with ease for three full minutes. That short pause, just three minutes long, will colour the hours ahead with a different kind of attention. The practice is a gift to yourself first, and the ripples it sends out into the people you meet during the day will travel further than any single act of kindness you might otherwise manage.