After Metta May: Reflections on a Month of Loving-Kindness Practice

Introduction: A Month That Started with Curiosity

When May began, I didn’t set out with a grand plan to dedicate the month to Metta meditation. In fact, I had never even heard of Metta May until some mutuals on Twitter started sharing their reflections and intentions. Their posts planted a seed — and on a whim, I decided to give it a chance. I had practiced loving-kindness before in small ways, but never with the kind of regularity or depth that this informal challenge offered.

What started as a light experiment turned into a truly transformative experience. While I didn’t practice perfectly or consistently every single day, the month was filled with unexpected insights, subtle shifts in behavior, and a more compassionate inner voice. In this post, I want to reflect on what changed, what surprised me, and what I’ll carry forward — both in meditation and in life.

Rediscovering Metta: From Surface Familiarity to Deep Understanding

A Past Practice Revisited

I wasn’t new to Metta, but I’ll admit my early encounters with it were light and somewhat disconnected. I knew the phrases: “May I be happy, may you be safe,”etc. But before this month, I didn’t understand just how much depth, intention, and psychological insight the full traditional practice contains.

Writing Deepened My Practice

When I began researching and writing the article “Metta Meditation (Loving-Kindness Practice): A Comprehensive Overview” I was struck by how structured and layered Metta truly is. I had always assumed it was a simple goodwill practice. Learning about the five categories of beings, the near and far enemies, and the emotional architecture behind each stage added dimension I hadn’t encountered before.

That article changed the trajectory of my month. The first half of May was casual. The second half became devotional.

Internal Changes: The Softening of My Inner Dialogue

A Kinder Inner Voice

The biggest transformation came from within. By the second week of May, I noticed a subtle but consistent shift in my internal narrative.  My self-talk became less critical, less impatient. I was more forgiving with myself when things didn’t go as planned. And when challenging emotions or memories surfaced, I responded with curiosity and care, rather than automatic judgment.

Metta didn’t erase all negative thoughts, but it gave me a wider emotional landscape to meet them with. I could hold more without collapsing inward.

Recognizing the Absence of Metta

Interestingly, as I grew more familiar with the state of mind that Metta cultivates, I also became more aware of when I wasn’t in it. I could feel it, the sharpness in a thought, the contraction in the chest, the quick flare of reactivity. Those moments didn’t feel like failures; they became cues to gently pause and consider: “Can I meet this with kindness instead?”

That mindfulness overlay — noticing the *absence* of Metta — became one of the most valuable gifts of the month.

Everyday Irritations: The Unexpected Ease of Letting Go

Letting Go Without Drama

Before May, I wouldn’t have said I was someone who “holds grudges,” but I definitely had a tendency to mentally revisit small irritations — the rude comment, the passive-aggressive tone, the unexpected traffic. But during Metta May, I noticed myself not reacting the way I normally would. These things didn’t stick the same way.

It wasn’t that I didn’t feel the initial jolt — I just didn’t feel the need to carry it. Letting go felt more natural, almost reflexive. The habitual internal friction started to ease, like sand smoothing down glass.

Hormones and the Hard Days

That said, not every day was easy. There were moments when my patience wore thin or when it was harder to access the warmth that Metta usually evoked. I noticed a correlation between these difficulties and my hormonal cycle. On certain days, the practice felt emotionally distant or even forced — but even then, showing up mattered.

Even a mechanical repetition of loving-kindness phrases had a stabilizing effect. On those tougher days, Metta wasn’t a source of bliss, but it was a tether — something that kept me from spiraling into old stories or emotional chaos.

The Near and Far Enemies: A Turning Point in Practice

Understanding the Subtleties of Metta

One of the biggest revelations came when I finally understood the concept of Metta’s near and far enemies. The “far enemy” is easy to spot — hatred, anger, ill-will. But the “near enemy”? That was trickier. Clinging, possessiveness, sentimental attachment masquerading as care — I could see them in certain relationships and moments of imagined kindness that were really about control or expectation.

Once I recognized the difference, I began to refine the quality of my Metta. I stopped trying to “feel good” or force warmth, and instead focused on *the intention behind the phrases. What emerged was a clearer, quieter, more authentic goodwill — less dramatic, more reliable.

A Practice That Works on You

It’s strange how a few lines repeated in silence can rewire the nervous system over time. But it’s real. Sitting with the near enemies helped me see where my compassion had strings attached. Naming those moments softened something sharp inside me.

The Hardest Part: Metta for Strangers

Familiar Faces Felt Easy

Wishing well to those I love was no challenge. My husband, my close friends, even people I admire from afar — my heart knew what to say. The phrases flowed.

 Strangers Were the Real Edge

But Metta for strangers? That was another story. I struggled. I could intellectually understand the value of wishing happiness for all beings, but when I brought a stranger’s face into my mind, I felt … blank. No malice, but no warmth either. Just apathy.

This is the edge I want to keep working with. The challenge of extending true goodwill to someone without a personal stake in their happiness is humbling. But even noticing that resistance is a kind of progress. The practice, I’ve learned, doesn’t require perfection — just awareness, and a willingness to try again tomorrow.

Closing Metta May: How It Felt to Wrap Up

Peaceful, Not Performative

As the month came to a close, I didn’t feel a dramatic high or a profound farewell. I felt grounded. Soft. Complete.

Metta May didn’t change my life in loud or visible ways — but it shifted the emotional undercurrent of my days. And that’s the kind of transformation that sticks.

I won’t be doing Metta daily moving forward, but I’ll be keeping it in rotation. It’s a tool I now understand more deeply — something I can reach for when I feel reactive, self-critical, or simply closed off.

And I’ll return to it again, seasonally or spontaneously, whenever my heart needs a gentle tune-up.

Journal Prompts for Closing Your Own Metta Month

If you practiced Metta in May (or any time at all), here are a few reflective prompts you can use to close your cycle:

What did Metta reveal about how you relate to yourself?

What surprised you about offering loving-kindness to others — especially strangers or difficult people?

How did your practice evolve from the first week to the last?

Where in your daily life did you notice Metta showing up unexpectedly?

What will you take forward into next month?

Final Thoughts: Metta Beyond May

This practice is always here. Whether you commit to it for 30 days or three breaths,Metta meets you where you are. It doesn’t demand purity or endless patience — just the sincere willingness to offer a wish for someone else’s well-being, and then to let that wish ripple outward from your own heart.

As I move into June, I do so with a quieter mind and a softer lens. And that, to me, is more than enough.