Can different people see forgiveness in different ways?
There is an expression, 'words create worlds'which implies that the words we use can define the context or are associated with specific experiences or quality of experiences. For example, the word ‘duty’ can imply that everything is a chore, an act that feels burdensome, of having to do it. It can also be associated with some action that makes me feel proud for example, ‘my 'duty' as a nurse.’ Perhaps this, too, is the case with forgiveness.
If someone were to speak to me of ‘an act of forgiveness’ I would be associating this with some significant event in which one party were able to adopt such a charitable attitude towards the perpetrator of that ‘crime’. Gordon Wilson, who lost his daughter in an IRA bomb attack and whom was mentioned in the previous blog, would fall into this category (see below).
8th November, 1987
A bomb exploded during a Remembrance Day service at Enniskillen in County Fermanagh, killing 11 people. At least 63 people were injured in the blast, nine of them seriously. The device went off without warning at 10.45am at the town's cenotaph where people had gathered to pay their respects to the war dead.
In the aftermath of the bombing a tone of forgiveness was set by Gordon Wilson whose daughter, Marie, was killed and who was himself injured in the attack. "I bear no ill will. Dirty sort of talk is not going to bring her back to life. She was a great wee lassie," Mr Wilson said.
So too would Camilla Carr who was held hostage in Chechnya for 14 months and subjected to repeated rape and who also had the strength to forgive her rapist captor. Read about it at http://www.theforgivenessproject.com/stories/camilla-carr-jon-james)
In April 1997, Camilla Carr and her boyfriend, Jon James went to Chechnya to set up a rehabilitation centre for traumatised war-children. Three months later they were taken hostage by Chechnyan rebels. Their ordeal lasted 14 months, during which Camilla was repeatedly raped by one of her jailers. Camilla reflected:
“Rape is a terrible violation of a human being. I will never forgive the act, yet I can forgive the man who raped me; I can feel compassion for him because I understand the desperate place he was coming from.
That’s not to say I condone what our captors did to us (the physical and psychological abuse was appalling), and if I met them now I’d want to ask all of them, ‘Did you have any idea how much you were harming us?’ But I still understand the desperation that caused them to do the things they did.”
In contrast, if someone were to say, ‘I forgive you’, the simplicity of the statement and the ease with which it can be said is suggestive of a small misdemeanor: a broken glass; a scratch on the paintwork; a word spoken in carelessness.
Both statements involve a process of forgiveness. Both require us to develop an attitude which, to quote the Forgiveness Project, ‘is giving up hope of a better past’. Both are suggesting that ‘from where I stand at this point in time, I envisage a better future in out interactions and relationship.’ I create my future right here and now.
Perhaps the only difference between ‘an act of forgiveness’ and ‘I forgive you’ is the implied magnitude of the change that has led to that place where forgiveness is required. If that is true, then surely the steps I take or the reasoning I use to let go and forgive the small misdemeanor are also applicable to the more challenging scenario.
Just pause for a moment. What are you doing, what qualities are you expressing, what position/attitude are you adopting when you say ‘I forgive you’ with respect to that broken glass? The sorts of experiences that first come to my mind are where I, as the agrieved party, would try to placate the other so as to restore their peace of mind, maybe with words such as, ‘It’s okay, don’t worry’' or to express my continued respect and love towards that person. Maybe, to suggest in a very subtle way, that the other person or my relationship with that other person is more important than that object that has been damaged.
Of course, to suggest to the person who has been defiled so grossly through an act of rape that they should take the approach to their attacker that, ‘I continue to respect and love you; that my relationship with you is more important than the object (my body) that you ‘damaged; that to restore your peace of mind is of importance to me’ would be insensitive ... and yet, is that not what Camilla Carr has done!
Perhaps the exploration and developing understanding I gain in the scenario of the broken glass really is replicated at all levels.
So, what might be some of the questions that I ask myself?
- am I able to experience any understanding as to why the other person may have done what they did?
- have I ever done a similar thing or caused anyone a similar level of (emotional) suffering?
- what goodness or qualities can I see in the person whom I am yet to forgive?
- to what extent has time already healed the emotional scars? What can I do to hasten the healing process?
- have I communicated honestly with the one whom I need/wish to forgive? Could I communicate still more? What, if anything, is preventing me from doing this?
- what truly irreversible effect has the action/event had on my life?
- would I not wish another person to forgive me if I had been the perpetrator of a similar crime?
- recognise that if I am not able to express forgiveness, who it is that is imprisoned? Can I become less of a psychological victim.
I spoke earlier of forgiveness in the context of the magnitude of change required. Of course, it is not something that we come to terms with overnight but is probably a step-wise process; to ‘transfer from a place where we felt disempowered and helpless to taking back control of our emotions and lives.’
The questions above are offered as a means to begin to take some of those steps.
Maybe the first step is to decide against revenge; the second, perhaps, not to harbour anger and hate and, another step, much further down the road, to make the effort to ‘care, even love, those who have harmed me.’
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Science demonstrates to us the value of relaxation in a number of ways. One effect of relaxation is that the brainwaves slow down – the brain is not so excited! For much of my time, when I am involved in activity, the brainwaves are at a level called ‘beta;’ they are very rapid (17 to 30 cycles per second, on average). When I sit and listen to some soothing music or relax in a sun-lounger, then the frequency of the brainwaves is reduced to a level called ‘alpha’ (8 to 12 cycles per second, on average.) In alpha state the intellect – the discriminatory element of my thinking – is less active and may be ‘on hold.’ Alpha waves are 3 to 5 times more powerful than beta waves.
There is an interesting contrast between the two states. If, in the beta state, I suggest to my self thoughts such as, ‘I am a peaceful person; I embody peace; my every interaction is filled with peace,’ I will probably follow them with such thoughts as, ‘No I’m not. I got angry when such and such happened. Remember what I said to so and so.’ The intellect questions the thoughts of peace. In the beta state, when the intellect is ‘on-hold’ the prompted thoughts about peace actually pass into the sub-conscious unchallenged.
Repeat the thoughts a few times on each alpha state occasion and create these occasions several times each day. Within a couple of days a change will have taken place.
The next time you find yourself in a situation in which you would normally become angry or irritated something new happens! Out of your sub-conscious comes the thought, ‘I am a peaceful person; I embody peace; my every interaction is filled with peace.’ Now that may not be entirely true but the difference is that, at the moment in which you feel the emotion rising, you have choice. Do I want to go down the road of anger, as I would have done in the past or do I wish to attempt to maintain a peaceful state?
The only change is, I now have choice whereas before I was limited by my own reactive nature. However, choice is everything!
I recall many years ago experiencing a moment of blinding anger when I was threatened by my ex-wife with not being able to see my son again. My focus in that moment was entirely on what was my right; my needs. Even in the following days, our exchanges would quickly come into anger, the intensity of which would leave me (and presumably her, also) feeling quite sick and drained of energy.
Only after experiencing this for a number of conversations did I decide during one subsequent phone call that I didn’t want to ‘give away my energy.’ At that time, even though I still felt angry, I was able to control that anger. As a result, for the first time since this situation had begun some days before, was I able to hear her pain.
Reflecting on this some years later, I gained some interesting insights. In the first exchanges where the anger was most intense, my perspective of the situation was very, very limited – it was as though I was looking through curtains that were drawn together all but for a small space. On the occasion when I decided to step back and begin to ‘control’ my anger, to not give away my energy, I was able to recognise something that had not been ‘visible’ to me before, in other words, the curtain had opened a little more.
It was through this that I began to see that the magnitude of my emotional involvement i.e. the degree to which my emotions controlled me, dictated the degree to which my emotional curtains were drawn together or opened. Blinding anger meant they were all but closed; anger, they were a little more open; frustration, perhaps they were half open; irritation, maybe 70% open, mild distraction, 85%, no emotional involvement and the curtains are fully drawn back. As the emotional ‘curtains’ open, more and more opportunities are ‘visible’ to me and so available to me to offer some way forward, to placate the individual, to smooth over the situation, to support the other persons learning.
With this understanding, I begin to watch my emotions as they arise and decide whether I wish to allow them to continue, unchecked, knowing that if they do, my response to the unfolding scenes will be limited and perhaps one I will come to regret later. Being ‘the watcher’ of my emotions provides me with ‘choice’ in the way I act.
How can I not get emotional? How can I see what has been done to me any differently? Okay, I see that the 7 or 8 questions in the blog can help me think about it in a different light but how can I hold on to that? My reactions seem to be stronger than any internal questioning.
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