Finding Forgiveness

Changing Perspective To Change Thoughts…

Rumi, thirteenth century poet and Sufi mystic, teaches us to

“Forgive others, not because they deserve forgiveness, but because you deserve peace.”

Since releasing my book finding I, A Journey of Repair so many of you have asked: “Bess, how could you have forgiven…?”

Friends, forgiveness was not hard.

The journey to be able to forgive is what felt insurmountable. The journey felt like a road filled with hidden landmines waiting to explode, maim, and potentially destroy. The not forgiving, the holding onto the past, and letting the past dictate my every breath was far more life threatening both physically and emotionally. I ferociously held onto my past, allowing it to dictate my every breath. My victimhood dictated my reality. At that point of my life, I knew nothing else. Anything else was foreign land, uncharted territory, and I feared that unknown. From that perspective, I couldn’t pick my head up to even consider forgiveness.

Prentis Hemphill, therapist, somatic teacher and facilitator, writer, and founder of The Embodiment Institute, tells us

“The body is the place which we experience our lives. It is the holder of our stories and the place through which we act. I believe that to heal, we must address the trauma that lives in our beings.”

For so many years, I did not consciously address the trauma that was stored in my body. I turned to numbing activities (eating, drinking, drugs) in hopes of finding ease from my internal pain. I struggled with such low self-esteem that I hid behind an eating disorder, struggled with suicidal ideation, and spent long periods unable to leave my house. The trauma owned me. It robbed me of purpose. It robbed me of sight. I lost the ability to see the world around me as anything but life-threatening.

The presence of people, outside my small safe circle, could have me convulsively shaking inside as my body went on high alert for danger, for judgement, for ridicule. Others were those that had hurt me in my past disguised in other bodies, other costumes. I could not get away from them. I felt their arms holding me, hitting me, hurting me.

It was very hard to be me. The me that was not me, but a façade of what I thought others wanted me to be in any given moment.

By not forgiving, I was harboring and feeding my own trauma. This was the journey.

In the second half of my life, with the help of therapists, experiencing deep safe connection, and above all receiving the love of my husband Ed, I began to learn that the heart that cannot forgive is an agitated heart. A heart which constantly reminds itself of its hurts. Such a heart makes the already predisposed mind to forcefully tether to the past. This prevents one from living in the NOW, which deprives one of the freshness of life. I did not want to be tethered to the past.

Origen, early Christian scholar and theologian claimed:

“The skandala, the scars and scandals in our lives, dig out the deep meaning. Our hurts become health-bestowing wounds, the source of our individual spiritual genius, which shapes the unique work we are called to do in the world. It is our own wounds that lead to wisdom and teach us, ultimately, how to love and heal in the world.”

I wanted to heal and through the healing find purpose.

As we talked about in the January nineteenth newsletter “Mending A Flu Break,” if it is true that hurt people, hurt people, then it must be true that healing people, heal people. That called me to reflect on the compassion of forgiving myself. If I compassionately forgive myself for being imperfect, I can do it for everyone else. If I choose not to forgive myself, I am then passing on the sadness, judgement, pain, and futility to others. I want the cycle to end and for healing to begin for more than just me.

As I wrote about in my book finding I, A Journey of Repair, staring at my father helpless and naked under his hospital gown that fateful day at The Mayo Clinic, the wings of love lifted my heart and allowed the waves of forgiveness to surge inside my being. Not only forgiveness for my father, but for anyone who had hurt me in any way along my way. The tether was broken.

Neale Donald Walsch, in his transformative collection of books Conversations with God, shines light on what I experienced in my epiphany. I wish I had been ready to receive the gift of his books long ago.

“If you can remember this truth—your perspective creates your thoughts, and your thoughts create everything—and if you can remember it before you leave the body, not after, your whole life will change. And the way to control your thoughts it to change your perspective. Assume a different perspective and you will have a different thought about everything.”

I had not won or lost.  I had just shown up whole-heartedly in that moment. The I that was me, not a façade, not a part, but me, allowing the healing to begin and the cycle to begin to break. I didn’t know it at the time, but my perspective shifted, and my entire reality changed. After that, forgiveness no longer terrified me.

Fear imprisons. Fear paralyzes. Fear cleverly tricks you to thinking there is no way out.

With an open heart, I accepted and owned my story bravely. In that, there was peace. The peace Rumi promised.

Each of us must learn, on our own, what is well hidden but also in plain sight. Its beauty is your courage. Your courage to forgive and experience the freshness of this life.

See if you can choose to adopt a different perspective.

This morning’s Daily Meditation from Franciscan monk, Father Richard Rohr, therapist and author, Aundi Kolber, challenged us to name the paradox of experiencing difficult realities while honoring our God-given dignity. She ended the meditation with the following prayer that she offers to ask God’s help as we honor our experiences. I would like to leave you with her prayer today as it touched my soul. I hope it does for you, as well. Let me know.

“God, here in this moment, empower me to honor everything that arises in my body, mind, and soul today; even if it means I have to return to it at another time.

Creator of all things, remind me that in honoring my experiences, You help me affirm dignity to the parts of myself that have at times felt stripped of it.

God, help me know that my desire for safety and connection is valid. In Your wisdom You designed me to need both.

But as I’m able, grant me the ability to open up to the possibilities of healing and newness while staying connected to the reality of Your love.”

Until next time, friends.