Forgiveness Poem


My offering for National Poetry Month:

I forgive.

I forgive myself. I said stupid things, did stupid things.

More than once. [Much more than once.]

I did not understand then. I understand now.

I understand the why. I understand the how.

And I understand who I need to be today.

Right now.

Here.

With you.

I forgive you for all of your errors. Even if they caused me pain.

[The suffering was my choice.]

Oh, you had demons.

And demons had you.

Maybe still do.

I honor the lessons I’ve learned.

So I forgive you. And I can even thank you.

[Who would have ever thought that?]

I forgive us, for all the times we think we can heal the whole big planet.

Without first looking to heal ourselves.

I forgive us for our collective fascination with the unimportant [news that isn't news, manufactured drama, featureless fads].

How we let them control our emotions, building a mounting tsunami of anxiety.

I forgive us for allowing ourselves to be swept away.

[And failing to keep an eye on what's really important.]

[Which is love.]

Oh, it’s forgiveness we need. The whole big planet of us.

We know how.

And we know who.

[It's us. To each other. For each other.]

Let’s not make the past hurts present.

Let’s not let them drive our days.

Let’s acknowledge the pain (it’s real) and allow ourselves the grace to be better (now).

Can you forgive?



Story Fondling


Some time ago I wrote an essay on forgiveness where I suggested that “Forgiveness is when the hurt you’ve suffered no longer drives your decision-making, nor defines who you are.”

Believe me, I’ve returned to those words time and again. And recently I came to see that people who are stuck are often unwilling or unable to let go of the hurt they’ve suffered. They are stuck in the hurt because somehow it defines them in a way that feels, oddly enough, comfortable.

It’s the woman who will tell you, with great bitterness, how unfairly her ex-husband treated her. How he screwed her out of money. How he turned the children against her. How he cheated on her and walked away scot free. The jerk. When did this happen? you might ask, and be shocked to find out — it was 30 years ago.

It’s when your friend starts to complain once again about how intolerable her workplace is. What a psycho her boss is. How brown-nosing her office mates are. How favorites get recognized but hard work is never rewarded. How she has no energy and barely drags herself into work every day. And you’ve heard the same complaints over and over without cease for the past five years.

Being stuck — feeling powerless to change, not knowing what to do, fuzzy thinking — happens to all of us at some time or other. We have a problem and can’t seem to find a way out.

Why is that?

It’s as if staying fully engaged with the problem prevents people from having to come up with a solution. There’s a issue, poppets, when we love the story of our problem so much that we can’t bear to let it go. We’re “story fondling”, as my friend Martha Beck calls it. We love our story. We absolutely adore it. We hold it close, as if it were a tiny baby needing our tender, loving care.

But when we story fondle, we allow our problem to define us and shape our decision-making.

Which is the opposite of forgiveness.

And only prolongs the pain.

The only way forward, as you may have heard, is through. To get unstuck, once and for all, you have to stop focusing on the problem and start focusing on the solution.

You have to break up with the problem and start dating a solution. Or play the field if you want and try several solutions.

Sure, sometimes we fondle our problem in an attempt to understand it. And that’s important — understanding the pain can help us craft a solution that works. But 30 years of fondling? Excessive. That’s 30 years of living life in pain, and on hold. Which might feel safe, but is ultimately a waste.

What you’ve got, for sure, is today. Yesterday’s gone and tomorrow is not promised. Laying the problem aside and living right here, right now, focused on solutions — that’s the key to arriving at the most powerful point of forgiveness — self-forgiveness. Which is the path toward a vibrant life, worth living.

Forgiveness


I was a guest speaker at a book club the other night – reviewing the best of parenting, relationship and personal growth books – when I was asked, “What about forgiveness?” In response, I talked about the ideas in Dr. Janis Abrahms Spring’s book How Can I Forgive You?, but as I drove home I felt unsatisfied with my response. It wasn’t complete enough.

Don’t get me wrong. Dr. Spring’s book is terrific, providing a workable framework for moving to forgiveness. It’s practical, it’s pragmatic and it’s well-written. The book was not my problem. I was glad I had mentioned such a useful book.

No, my problem was – no surprise for this “words girl” – the semantics of the word “forgiveness”. What is it? What does it mean? We hear about forgiveness from pulpits and pop culture all the time. Why, it’s a gift we give ourselves! It’s the right thing to do! Forgiving is a sign of our spiritual development and piety!

Forgiveness has become such a ubiquitous word, in fact, that perhaps it’s lost its potency. I bump into someone in a crowded store and I say, “Excuse me.” Am I asking forgiveness for my offense? Many of us say “sorry” almost as often as we say “uhm”. Do we seek forgiveness each time we blurt it out? Teens say, “My bad” and their buds say, “No problem.” Is that a forgiveness exchange?

What does “forgiveness” mean?

As I drove home, pondering, this definition popped into my head:

“Forgiveness is when the hurt you’ve suffered no longer drives your decision-making, nor defines who you are. “

Here’s an example: Tom’s wife left him for another man. Tom was devastated. For the first few months, he was among the walking wounded and would tell the story of his betrayal to anyone who’d listen. And some who didn’t want to listen. His mind was filled with thoughts of retribution, retaliation and revenge. Nearly every thought he had, nearly every course of action, was directed by his wife’s affair and their subsequent divorce. And women? Pffffft. Since his wife had betrayed him and she was a woman, then all women were capable of betrayal and should be avoided. Women were not to be trusted. No one was to be trusted.

He was not in a place of forgiveness.

Over time, though, he began to add different activities to his schedule. He got into mountain biking, planned outings with friends and explored his beliefs. He recommitted himself to his work, and got a promotion. He gingerly made friendships, then dates, with women. Gradually, his decisions were based on his life now, not his life then. He no longer needed to tell the story of his wife’s affair to people – because it no longer seemed that relevant. If you asked him, he’d say, “I’m Tom. I’m a 45 year old engineer who likes mountain biking, wine and hanging with friends. Oh, and I’m divorced.”

He had arrived at the place of forgiveness.

That doesn’t mean his wife’s affair had no impact on Tom’s life. It did. Forgiveness didn’t mean Tom pretended he wasn’t hurt. He was. It doesn’t mean it was OK for Tom’s wife to have had an affair. It wasn’t. What happened in his marriage became a part of the accumulated experiences of Tom’s life – just not the key, defining part of his life.

Forgiveness meant that Tom was no longer driven or defined by his hurt.

In many cases, one person hurts another person and they stay in a relationship. The hurt may be big or it may be small. But it’s a hurt and the only way forward is through forgiveness. This mutual forgiveness benefits both parties.

We’ve seen how a hurt person’s path to forgiveness helped him. In an ongoing relationship, forgiveness is a huge relief for the injuring party, too. She knows that she’s not going to “have to pay for this for the rest of my life” since his decisions are not going to be solely based on the hurt (“I’m only doing this because you lied to me twenty-five years ago.”). And she knows he’s not going to forever define her by having hurt him (“You know I can’t trust you because you lied to me that time twenty-five years ago.”). But to get to forgiveness she has do her part. She has to acknowledge that he’s been hurt, she has to work to help him recover, and she has to promise not to willfully repeat the injury in the future.

Sometimes the person who needs forgiveness is you. Many people, for instance, carry shame and guilt over a failed marriage, or a lost job, or a blown diet. “If only I had…If only I had been…If only I hadn’t…” is a constant refrain. Yet, this song is an oldie. It has a good beat, and you can dance to it. But it’s the same old song and dance. Singing it keeps us firmly in the past. When where we’ve got to live is in the now.

Forgiving ourselves – acknowledging what happened, how it impacted us then and now – and moving to the point where our perceived shortcomings no longer fuel our decision-making or define who we are, is the key to living in the present. And living happily. This may require therapy to understand how we hurt ourselves in the past and to work through the issues so that we don’t continue to hurt ourselves in the future.

Viktor Frankl, noted psychiatrist and author of the classic Man’s Search for Meaning, founded an innovative school of psychology called “logotherapy”, which holds that if people have meaning and conscience in their lives then they are more apt to be successful. This idea underpins much of modern psychological thought and took mental health into new and productive areas.

Now for the reveal. Frankl developed his theories while imprisoned in Auschwitz. Man’s Search for Meaning details the suffering, deprivation and humiliation the men and women in the camp endured. It was unlike anything most of us have seen. No one should experience such inhumanity.

Although Frankl’s experience in Auschwitz birthed the most significant work of his life, Frankl didn’t appear to define himself by the time in the camp – rather, he defined himself by his work, his life.

He became bigger than what he had suffered.

And that’s the promise of forgiveness. You can become bigger than your hurt. With forgiveness you can leave the wound in the past and be your best self. And you can start right now.