On Forgiveness

Pinkola-Estes

You tend to feel sorrow over the circumstances instead
of rage, you tend to feel sorry for the person rather than
angry with him. You tend to have nothing left to remember
to say about it all. You understand the suffering that drove
the offense to begin with. You are not waiting for anything.
You are not wanting anything. There is no lariat snare around
your ankle stretching from way back there to here. You are
free to go. It may not have turned out to be a happily ever
after, but most certainly there is now a fresh Once upon
a time waiting for you from this day forward.

Lewis Smedes

You will know that forgiveness has begun when you recall those who hurt you and feel the power to wish them well.

Marianne Williamson

Forgiveness does not mean that we suppress anger; forgiveness means that we have asked for a miracle: the ability to see through mistakes that someone has made to the truth that lies in all of our hearts. Forgiveness is not always easy. At times, it feels more painful than the wound we suffered, to forgive the one that inflicted it. And yet, there is no peace without forgiveness. Attack thoughts towards others are attack thoughts towards ourselves. The first step in forgiveness is the willingness to forgive.

Earl of Chesterfield

Little vicious minds abound with anger and revenge and are incapable of feeling the pleasure of forgiving their enemies.

Epictetus

Forgiveness is better than revenge, for forgiveness is the sign of a gentle nature, but revenge is the sign of a savage nature.

George Herbert

He that cannot forgive others, breaks the bridge over which
he himself must pass if he would ever reach heaven;
for everyone has need to be forgiven.

Martin Luther King

Forgiveness is not an occasional act. It is a permanent attitude.

Henri Nouwen

It is freeing to become aware that we do not have to be victims of our past
and can learn new ways of responding. But there is a step beyond
this recognition… It is the step of forgiveness. Forgiveness is love
practiced among people who love poorly. It sets us free without
wanting anything in return.

~

I can’t put a price on the healing I’ve experienced, that has resulted in abounding joy and peace, inducing a levity that is not without substance. I am mindful and grateful for all I have the fortune to touch. Or that touches me. I realize that healing must be maintained. To sustain myself, I must remain mindful. To be mindful, I must return to what heals me. I must meditate and feed on the sources that provide my well-being. And to not deplete my sources, I must give back. When I give back, I feel whole, participating in a system of the highest virtue–a system that acts to resolve, repair, and reinvigorate all that it touches, producing

Life,

A life I want to live. I am blessed.

A letter to my father

My loving father,

There is a thought that crosses my mind on a rare occasion, and it is disconcerting:  I don’t know you very well, Father.

To me, you are like some great mythical figure.  You have lived a life of adventures I know very little of and would never relate to because they cannot be replicated.  Maybe you do not think back on your experiences as adventures.  Maybe you do not wish to think back on them at all.  I know you don’t take pride in any awards received from your time in Vietnam.  Most of what I know about you has been relayed through Mom.  She is like an intermediary in that…another way in which you are like a mythical figure.  There is an aspect of you that is untouchable, to me.

I want to know you, Father.  I want to know of your childhood.  Maybe you do not wish to recall it.  I do not desire to upset you.  But your story is a beautiful one, and I think it deserves to be told.

I know your life has not been easy.  But you have survived.  You are still here while so many others are not, Father.  How did you arrive where you are today?  What were your dreams in youth?  What did you think of your parents or the absence of them?  What did you long for, and what do you desire now?

You did not have a pristine childhood, this I know, yet you managed to mold yourself into a very respectable human being.  Your agency, your individual power and strength, amazes me and inspires me.  Without the example of an ideal father, you became one.  Perfection is a non-issue.  You have done everything required of you as a father and beyond.  You have provided for your wife and children.  You have supported us.  You have given us more than adequate housing and food.  You have given us even the trivial things we’ve desired.  You have worked so hard.  You have fed us, clothed us, and provided means of transportation.  In a materialistic world, you have given us all the basics and more, and yet, you came from very little.

I am so fortunate to have you, Father.  You have given to us, your children, all that you can.  And beyond that, you have sacrificed.  You ask for so little.  I am ashamed at times for how I displease you and how selfish I can be.

To me, you are an individual who was born into a third world environment, escaped it, and succeeded within a first world environment.

You are my hero.

My greatest shame would be to not accomplish half of what you have in life.  I am so sorry for ever disappointing you.  And I am sorry for not working harder.  My life is easy in many ways and hard in others.  I feel as though I have no right, though, to say my life is difficult and to use that as an excuse to not accomplish things.  You have sacrificed so much and worked incredibly hard to provide a simple path for your children in life.  You’ve endured much while I feel debilitated over the slightest thing.

I want to be stronger for you, Father.

I have not made this known, but I am so grateful to have you.

There are times I contemplate you and mom aging.  It is a thought that has at times moved me to tears.  There is immense sadness that comes from the idea of you and her growing older.  This is a fact of life, though.  And it is my attachment and desire to keep you forever that leaves me dissatisfied because it will never come to be.

For a while I have thought of myself as a late bloomer.  I have felt slow and sluggish.  But in looking at this optimistically, I feel I have something wonderful to offer.  I am not the only one who shares this idea.  I want to make you happy, Dad.  I want you to be proud of me, your child, your daughter, and I want you to feel peace in knowing you no longer have to provide for me any material means.

I long for you to be at peace at this stage in your life knowing your children are fending for themselves.  That you only have to watch and participate in what brings joy because you have earned this.

I am lucky to have you, and mom, two parents who care so much about us, their children.  I only hope that I never forget this for too long, that it may be a regular visitor to the forefront of my mind.

It may take a while, but I will earn the effort you put into life and into the lives of us, your family.  And I hope that I, too, will be able to give to my own children someday.

I love you very much, Dad.  All my successes and all my triumphs are and will always be for you.

In love and grace,

Your daughter.

Procrastination

I’ve never been incredibly organized.  In fact, most of my life, if not all of it, has been disheveled.  The only order found within it is established by someone or something else: curricula, online banking, seasonal change, the solar system, menstruation (okay, that’s fairly erratic, too), alarm clocks, e-mails…

I have trouble focusing.  I should be studying for finals.

I haven’t done my best this semester.  I woke up two pounds lighter.  My mass seems to be disappearing, though it’s not really visible to me.

I feel so exhausted.  I have no passion for my schoolwork right now.  I feel like I’m wronging myself by not being passionate about such great subjects.  I’m learning so many great things but I’m not absorbing them properly.   I want to say I lost interest somewhere in the middle of this semester, but I fear it might have happened before that.  Maybe as early as last spring.  But there is nothing I can really do about it.  Next semester will be my most difficult load of credits.  It’s like I’m going downhill on a bicycle and my break pads are worn out.   I’m rushing toward the end I planned long ago, but I’m not in control right now.

I’ve heard of ‘senoritis’, could this be it? I’m not sure of its symptoms.   I’m struggling to find happiness elsewhere and it’s just not happening.  It feels like nothing’s right right now.  I want this winter break so badly.  I want to see my future lucidly.   My finish line is somehow blurred.  I had a plan for the summer of ’09, but now I’m not certain it will happen.  Other factors aren’t working with me, creating obstacles that will be troublesome to overcome.  Everything seems so easy when I envision and plan it, but with reality comes obstacles.

In an attempt to not be completely dreary, my savings account is growing.   There is something very pleasing about having reality align with one’s goals.  I hope my plans won’t be crucially altered for how it will be spent once I graduate.

The comfort of a security blanket is taken for granted with age.
In youth, one holds on to it so dearly, as if in every moment
there is a consciousness
of its importance.

With maturity, the tangibility of the material is reduced–
dulled by our neglect.
Perhaps this is a virtue, such as within a belief system like Buddhism
where detachment is lauded.
This is of no comfort to the rogue who is the affiliate of no one, organized system.

Where is peace to be found
if not within a mantra or a prayer?
Where is sacred space to be found
without encroaching upon the space of another?
Where is the holy to be found
when it is inconstant and ill-defined for one whose beliefs
are inconstant and ill-defined?

Perhaps it is not so tragic
to be like the shifting land masses;
to be like the tectonic plates, undulating
and grinding beneath the earth’s epidermis
giving birth to new forms,
proliferating the species.

Why then, is the inconstancy of human personality
illness
When the variability of our planet is prolific?