Flowing with Forgiveness

Getting to the Heart of the Matter

“I’ve been trying to get down

To the heart of the matter

But my will gets weak

And the thoughts seem to scatter

But I think it’s about forgiveness.

Forgiveness.

Even if, even if,

you don’t love me anymore.”

- Don Henley, Mike Campbell, John Souther, “The Heart of the Matter”

This week is the Jain festival of atonement, repentance and forgiveness, Paryushan. It’s a nine-day period where we reflect on the fact that we hurt others, unintentionally and intentionally, unknowingly and knowingly, unconsciously and consciously, with our thoughts, words and actions. It is also an opportunity to reflect on how we are practicing other core principles of Jainism, like anekantavaad (infinite paths to truth), satya (seeking truth), ahimsa (offering compassion, peace, and love to all beings; also known as non-violence), etc. At the end of Paryushan, usually after a period of some fasting, Jains ask forgiveness from everyone, and offer it to all who ask us.

I think about Paryushan as a concentrated time period in which to acknowledge a year-round, life-time truth: As a human being, I will cause pain and suffering to other human beings (and other beings in general, including myself); it is unavoidable and inevitable, regardless of my intentions, knowledge, and/or consciousness. Therefore, it is vital for me to practice offering and asking for forgiveness.

That is the 4000-year-old lineage my family calls upon, and still we are not great at it. I mean, I know I and we (my parents, brother, and extended family) all try really hard. And still it hurts to hurt people, and it hurts to be hurt, and it hurts to sit with it, no matter which side we are on. Sometimes, one of us gets stuck and holds a grudge. Sometimes, one of us condemns and freezes the other as being unable to grow or change. Sometimes, one of us gets attached to our own ‘rightness’, unable to get curious about the other side of things, or to understand that it usually takes two to tango. Sometimes, one of us doesn’t want to listen to the impact we have had, or to the intention of the person who (usually accidentally) hurt us. Still, we persist and approach Paryushan every year with renewed vigor and commitment.

A lot of my family also lives in a modern North American culture, which is not that great at atonement and forgiveness. (I don’t think it’s much better in modern Indian culture, either, just fyi.) Sometimes I feel like ‘puritanical’ was really a euphemism for pure-tyrannical: the absolutism of right and wrong, good and bad, in and out, punisher and punished. In this culture, sometimes forgiveness is equated with losing or being weak. The person who apologizes and asks for forgiveness is a sucker, who swallows their pride and admits to being wrong. The other person is the winner, who can reign their moral superiority — until they make a mistake, that is. Then, the zero-sum game continues, with the next person on top — until the relationship breaks.

Or, there is the adage of ‘forgive and forget’. I get where that comes from — about moving forward and not getting frozen in the moment, so those grudges don’t hinder us. And yet, it also can signal a kind of dismissal. Forgetting doesn’t sound like learning and atoning, much less integrating another person’s experiences and feelings, to do things differently and hopefully better in the future. So, I get why people feel uncomfortable with the idea of forgiveness, if these are the dominant models of it.

For me, I see forgiveness as a core element of self- and collective- growth and healing, a vital practice for existing as a human and for participating in relationships and community. I actually don’t know how to flow through life without regularly forgiving myself and others, and asking others to forgive me. For me, forgiveness is a lubricant for life. In seeing the polarization and entrenched conflict in so many movements, organizations, families and community spaces, I sense that strengthening forgiveness practices is more than just helpful; it is necessary if we are to survive and thrive, and find ways forward that include everyone and all parts of ourselves.

Let me share a few examples. In an online Healing Our Movement Ecosystem Jam a few years ago, we engaged in a powerful exercise inspired by our dear elder, Joanna Macy. Each one of us had written or drawn a vision of our future self, following a powerful meditation on attuning our inner song with the outer song of the wider world. We got into breakout groups of three, and each of us had the opportunity to share our vision with the other members of the group. One would listen as our ancestor, the other as our future descendant. After the speaker shared their vision, the 'ancestor' would reflect some observations and insights back to them; then the 'descendant' would do the same. After about 10 minutes, we would switch, so each of us got to play each role once. Each time I have done this exercise, the results have been so powerful. Embodying these archetypal energies puts things into perspective.

In this HOME Jam, I was listening to my new friend Abigail* share about her struggle with her father, his alcoholism, and the trauma of her Irish ancestors. I was listening as her ancestor, and the medicine that came through was to ask her for forgiveness. I acknowledged the truth that I (and others) have caused pain in our thoughts, words, actions, in our lifetimes – and what I (and we) can do is ask to be forgiven and do our best to learn, repent, and try to do better. Sometimes that happens in this lifetime; sometimes it happens in the spiritual world. Either way, the soul is aiming for release and integration, and I reflected this to Abigail.

I also shared how, regardless of the trauma, the resilient spirit reveals itself – the part that stays alive and keeps choosing even a bit of joy amidst the suffering. And isn't that something to celebrate and have gratitude for? Yes, my ancestors' trauma brought me here, and so did their power. So maybe I can release what doesn’t serve, and forgive them, and try to build upon their foundation of strength as well. It was a moving moment for us in the trio, and I have carried that lesson with me ever since, as I both honor and forgive my ancestors — and humbly ask my descendants for their forgiveness as well.

In another online Jam, this time the Pacific Northwest Changemakers Jam, I held an open conversation to explore the power of forgiveness in our conflicts. At the time, I was reeling from a really challenging experience with my mother. I ended up sharing about it with these two participants, and I felt received and seen for my hurt, even when it wasn’t by the person who did the hurting. That witness and with-ness actually helped me to move forward and forgive, to share my feelings and limits with my mother, and set the path for a bigger shift in our relationship.

Around the same time, I remember co-creating this kind of process with another friend. Chica* had been deeply hurt by the way her gallery’s art director had treated her in an important project, and she was carrying around a lot of pain and resentment. I invited her to share with me what she wanted to share with that director, as though I was the director. I listened deeply and reflected back what she was sharing. Chica also asked me for my perspective, and I tried to put myself in that person’s shoes. It wasn’t to condone or defend. It was simply an expression of what I could imagine the director was thinking and where her actions may have come from. Sharing that was a relief to Chica, to hear and acknowledge what might have happened — even if it wasn’t from the person directly. Something that was stuck had moved, and Chica found space to release and forgive — really so she could move on for herself.

Both Chica and I wanted to have space in our beings and our bodies for something other than the hurt, and at the same time, forgiveness felt hard to come by, without support from others. Even though the listening and reflection didn’t come from the person who had caused the pain, it still provided a healing balm and allowed us to release. Other people in our lives could hear our hurt, hold us with tenderness, and in doing so, help us move through the stuck-ness.

For me, this is why forgiveness is both a personal and collective practice. There is my work to do, yes, and there is also the support I can receive from others to do that work. Notably, all of us involved in the above examples didn’t start out thinking — “Oh, you need to forgive.” Instead of trying to assign blame or shame, or force forgiveness, the witnesses offered care and shared perspectives when asked. That opened up opportunities for learning, integration, and healing, and in the process, forgiveness came more naturally.

Next week is the 4th annual Re-Storying Justice Jam, and these reflections on forgiveness feel on time. When I think about restorative approaches to conflict, I know a both/and is at play. One part is looking at the moment, what happened, the how and why — to acknowledge and understand the pain and suffering, in order to find ways forward to heal and repair. Another part is looking up and out, and trying to understand the bigger context that contributes to that moment. Every hurtful action comes from somewhere — usually from unprocessed trauma. As I mentioned in my last offering, the invisible intentions and impacts need to come to the light in any conflict. It’s both that the moment matters and deserves full care, AND no one can be frozen to a moment for all of their life and ours; we need to see the whole and flow with it for deeper transformation.

In other words, forgiveness and truth-sharing/listening go hand in hand. One without the other can really feel imbalanced. If I hear your truth, and yet I don't ask for forgiveness, or accept your offer of it, then there remains an uncomfortable thorn in the side. It hurts me, and it hurts you, because the enmity drags on. Conversely, if I forgive you or ask your forgiveness, but don't try to hear you, then I don't really understand what's underneath the pain or misunderstanding, and therefore I am more likely to do it again, which only expands the hurt. In my family, for example, we like to forgive but not necessarily learn about what’s behind the hurt. Maybe it feels too vulnerable, and yet, I feel the lack of the learning breeds distance between us.

In other spaces, I have heard people share their truths, but not forgive or ask for forgiveness. For example, the refrain in social justice space is sometimes: “He/she/they caused harm” and, therefore, they must be excluded. I want to say, my friend, we will all cause harm, and we will all be harmed by each other. So, instead of kicking someone out, how could we listen and learn, heal through the pain, ask and offer forgiveness, and find love on the other side? Because, for me, if we're ultimately not finding the love, then what does any of our social justice work matter?

I am remembering the story I once heard about a tribe in the Amazon. Each rainy season, the community goes down to the river. The instruction is to throw mud on any one who has hurt you during the last year. Pretty soon, everyone is covered in mud. They look at themselves and each other, and all the mud, and then go to the river to wash themselves collectively clean.

Am I building bridges or erecting walls? Am I acknowledging myself as part of the web or think I am above it? That’s what helps me gauge the depth of truth and forgiveness, and whether or not the slate is clean for the next conflict, or if a weight still sits on the heart. It takes time to understand and atone; it takes time to repair and forgive. I have to tap into my humility and into my curiosity, which are hard to access until I am ready. Yet, accountability — our abilities to account for our words, thoughts and actions — gets stronger when we weave forgiveness through the entire restorative process. Just as responsibility — our abilities to respond with our words, thoughts, and actions — can be taken more easily when forgiveness is a baseline.

Often, until the relationship has reconnected, the hurt continues to fester in some way. We can ask: What does the hurt person want? What does the person who caused the hurt want? Mostly, I have seen both want to be heard and understood, to forgive and be forgiven. No one wants to carry pain in our lives, and I don't believe, after the feelings of payback and vengefulness have subsided, that we want anyone else to carry pain. I sense a longing for remorse and a willingness to repair, yes, but not shame, guilt, etc. Which makes sense if our goal is to bring forth a more loving, just and thriving world for all.

So I ask: Where do you get stuck with forgiveness? And how are you (or could you) practice flowing forgiveness for yourself and for others into your lives, work and communities? Please share in the comments. I’d love to learn with you!

ps. For some uplifting energy towards the power of forgiveness, check out India Arie’s version of The Heart of the Matter. One of my favorites.