Kristin Fontana writes an excellent newsletter. She was talking about a conversation she watched between two “relationship experts.” Fontana said that what she got from the conversation was a definition of forgiveness which I have never heard before, but it really resonated with me. (I just knew that it had to come here to be a thought exhibit at Adulting – Second Half. ) Forgiveness is the memory without the emotional charge. Forgiveness is experience alchemized into wisdom.
The concept of forgiveness is a toughie, isn’t it? It’s a confusing concept. It’s hard because many times forgiveness is treated like an “all or nothing.” And there are so many contradictory pity statements floating around out there about forgiveness.
“Forgive and forget.” “Forgive but don’t forget.” “To err is human; to forgive, divine”. “When a deep injury is done us, we never recover until we forgive”. Oscar Wilde said this: “Always forgive your enemies – nothing annoys them so much.” When I looked up quotes about forgiveness, the AI overview said this, “There are many quotes about forgiveness, including the idea that it’s a gift, a constant attitude, and the final form of love.”
Ultimately, in order to forgive anyone or anything, we must let go of the emotional charge that comes from the memory of the incident or incidents. To let go, we have to be able to detach. To let go, we must be able to trust ourselves to go through the process of alchemizing our experiences, and the emotions that come from those experiences, into wisdom, and then to act on our deeper wisdom going forward. This process is probably one of the hardest lessons we humans ever learn. But when we don’t go through the process of forgiveness, we withhold love and peace from ourselves.
And also from Kristin Fontana’s newsletter, verbatim, is this lovely fable:
According to an old Native American Legend, one day there was a big fire in the forest.
All the animals fled in terror
Suddenly, the Jaguar saw a Hummingbird pass over his head, but it was flying toward the fire.
Moments later, the Jaguar saw him pass again, this time he was headed away from the fire.
The Jaguar asked,
“What are you doing Hummingbird?
“I am going to the lake”, he answered.
“I drink water with my beak and throw it onto the fire to extinguish it.”
The Jaguar laughed. “Are you crazy?” Do you really think you can put out that big fire on your own with your very small beak?”
“No”, said the Hummingbird, “I know I can’t.”
“But the forest is my home, it feeds me, it shelters me and my family. I am very grateful for that.
I am part of her, and the forest is part of me.”
I know I cannot put out the fire, but I must do my part.”
At that moment, the forest spirits who listened to the Hummingbird were moved by the bird and its devotion to the forest.
Miraculously, they sent down a torrential downpour, which put an end to the great fire.
The Native American grandmothers would tell this story to their grandchildren. Then concluded with, “Do you want to attract miracles in your life? Then do your part.”
“You have no responsibility to save the world, or find the solutions to all problems but to tend to your personal corner of the Universe.”
“As each person does that, the world will save itself.”
That’s all we really have to do, right? Do our own teeny part, and then trust the Universe to take care of the rest. The Universe is using each one of us, and our own unique individual gifts and talents, to bring up the whole, but we were also gifted with free will, so that we can choose to fly like the hopeful hummingbird, or we can sit in cynicism like the jaded jaguar. We can be brave enough to feel our emotions and set them free, and then march on with our deeper wisdoms into a brighter and lighter future.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Yes! Yes! Yes!
This exhibit perfectly expresses the relationship I have with my ex.
I’ve not forgotten his poor treatment of me, but it no longer sets me on fire. I can look objectively at his actions (and mine) to chart the demise of our marriage. After a lot of therapy, I can accept him as he is, with his limitations, and shed the bitter feelings.
One of my friends says it’s codependent that I haven’t cut him out of my life. I say she’s wrong. I think it’s healthy that I can sit and visit with him when I see our son (they live together). I think it’s a bonus that I can call him to help with fixing stuff and that he still seeks my advice with his business. I ran it for 20+ years, so that makes sense. Plus, since I’m no longer financially invested in it, I can offer objective opinions. By his own admission, I’m right 99% of the time.
It would be codependent if I was still worried about how he was running the business or if I was trying to control what he does.
The best part, though, is that I have a deep sense of gratitude for the lessons I learned in that relationship. I am so much wiser for all those experiences, both negative and positive. I bring that knowledge into my work, and it makes me really good at what I do. I couldn’t claim that if I hadn’t lived it.