… and at other times not. Or rather, I am either completely unable to forgive or I don’t see a need to forgive at all. For me “forgiving” only exists as its opposite, as “unforgiveness.” The moment I stop being unforgiving, it’s like “bygones.” I never say: “I forgive you.” If anything I say: “Forget it! There is nothing to forgive!”
Like with my mum. Pretty much all my life I found much of her behavior not exactly exemplary, let alone forgivable. So much so that at times I couldn’t even acknowledge anything nice or good about her. Naturally, whenever people saw resemblances between her and me, I was devastated.
Then my mother got terminally ill, and bit by bit, all the pain and hate and resentfulness I had harbored toward her fell away. It wasn’t a conscious decision. It just happened. And I only became aware of it when a mutual friend told me that I was laughing like her. Instead of being hurt – as was usually the case – I beamed: “Really? Thank you!”
I was so stunned by my own reaction that I decided to share this with my mum. She was already on hospice at the time – bedridden, able to hear but unable to talk. I sat down next to her and said:
“Do you want to hear something funny? If someone told me today that I am just like you, I would be proud. Can you believe that? All my life I wanted to be like Dad. But now, if someone told me I’m like my mother, it would make me smile.”
The words had barely escaped my mouth when my mum’s breathing changed. It had been labored for days. But not anymore. All of a sudden she sounded very calm and relaxed. Five minutes later she took her last breath and let it go with a sigh. When she did, there was nothing left to forgive.
…
What had changed? Why was there nothing to forgive anymore after years and years of anguish?
The answer is simple: I have changed.
The way I look at her and the things I focus on when thinking about her has changed. I stopped judging and begrudging her for whatever I thought to be unforgivable. If anything, I take my view and experience as bearings for my own moral compass; instead of lamenting about her, I began the journey of improving myself.
No wonder there is nothing left to forgive, right? But wait!
Do my eyes now meander with wistful glances through lush memories of my childhood as if it were the most enchanted fairyland? Nope. Do I still believe my mum could have benefited from more refined communication and parenting skills? Yep. Can I prove with absolute unwavering certainty that I would have acted differently had I walked in her shoes? Uh … 😳
But even if, by chance or by grace, I had been able to do things differently, there still would be nothing to forgive. Forgiveness only becomes necessary when I make up a story about the situation and the action. It is my interpretation of what happened that creates the grievance.
Without a story, there is nothing to forgive in the first place. For instance, when the doctor told her she had cancer, she said to him: “How can you be sure it is cancer? I don’t think I have cancer.” The interpretation of her reaction was manifold. Some thought she was in denial. Others called her arrogant, ignorant, or refreshingly optimistic. However, if I strip her response down to the basics, all she did was ask a question and voice her opinion. When looked at it like this, all the emotions that flare up with words like “denial,” “arrogance,” and “ignorance” subside. And there is nothing left to forgive.
Interestingly, not only did my simple act of “letting go” allow my mum a peaceful transition, it also took a huge weight off my shoulders. To paraphrase the Buddha: being unforgiving is like holding on to a hot coal and expecting the other person to get burned. The only one suffering will be me. And I will be suffering from a whole-lotta anger and bitterness festering inside of me – emotionally AND physically.
Please, don’t think that I embraced Buddha’s words with open arms. Not by a long shot! Frankly, I had quite a hard time with it. For one thing it spelled out the inconceivable: Forgiveness has nothing to do with the other person or their behavior. Forgiveness is all about me – about letting go of my fear of getting hurt, my need to punish others, my fixation on fault, and the belief that my opinion is not just a point of view but the gospel truth. Bummer. 😏
For another thing, I assumed forgiving meant condoning someone’s actions or letting them off lightly. But after careful consideration, I realized that that’s not the case. I do not have to be unforgiving for people to account for their actions. If they break the law and a jury convicts them, they will go to jail regardless of whether or not I grace them with forgiveness. Or – to choose a less dramatic example – if someone yells at me, then they will have to live with the tension their resentment creates in their bodies.
That is not to say I have to remain in a relationship with someone whose behavior is potentially harmful or otherwise unacceptable. To the contrary. Forgiveness is, in fact, all about untethering myself and my state of mind from other people and their actions: As long as I am holding on to the “hot coal,” I am (re)living a situation someone else governs. Once I drop the coal, it becomes “bygones”; I govern, and there is nothing left to forgive.
It appears that the key to forgiveness is simple. Another person’s (mis)behavior, bygone times, and opinions do not take center stage anymore. Shifting the focus from past to present, from others to myself, and from interpretation to description can make all the difference when it comes to either being completely unforgiving or having nothing to forgive at all.
And as for “hard to forgive?”
That shift of focus, that tiiiiiny little change of perspective, seems to be the hard part …
Tell me about it!! 😆
Brigitte Schneider
aka Ms. Little Buddha
Copyright © 2021, Brigitte Schneider. If you wish to quote text from this article contact the author by leaving a comment.
Wow Brigitte…you really rock! Love your articles.👍