Author Topic: Patience  (Read 13909 times)

Sela

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Re: Patience
« Reply #60 on: June 01, 2006, 06:29:28 PM »
Hi LOH:

Good point.  Kindly letting go may be the best, most loving thing to do sometimes.   That's how I felt when I divorced.

I think what I mean is that sometimes, when communication stops, the end is inevitable.....when it may be that forgiveness and resolution of problems could happen.....if not for the silence.

I don't think there's a perfect formula or again.......an absolute that fits.

Thanks for pointing this out.

 :D Sela

Portia

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Re: Patience
« Reply #61 on: June 02, 2006, 09:30:38 AM »
Hiya Sela, why is this such tough thinking for me?

There are mistakes and there are poor choices:

A mistake is when you are not aware that your behaviour will have adverse consequences and when you do not intend those consequences? Like unknowingly giving bad food to someone and they become ill. So do you ask for forgiveness for a mistake? (Tricky, is a mistake your ‘fault’, responsibility?)

A poor choice is: eating prawns that smell off? Being aware that your actions may have awful consequences? Being aware that someone may be hurt (when another action could avoid that)?

Good differences there. Pming was a poor choice.

Sorry your boss did that to you.  Not right or fair, P.     I want to call him bad names.

Gosh he did much, much worse than that. That was very mild. He was sacked though, after I left, I was probably instrumental in that happening, but it was overdue. He wasn’t particularly awful as a person, merely stupid, ignorant and had an unrealistic image of himself. He was a bully too but I doubt he took any sick pleasure from it. I almost feel sorry for him. But not quite.

Forgiving is the opposite of blaming?

I understand what you say about we forgive to let go the blame I guess (and replace it with understanding); and wanting forgiveness to know that the other person has let go of their feelings.

It's just that some people do not choose to forgive until they are asked.   So I ask.  And some people expect others to ask before they consider giving forgiveness.  It's hard for me to tell.....who wants what?  So I ask.

I can see this. But I’ve not encountered it in life. I’ve only seen this when it’s been managed, in a formal situation and only on tv. I haven’t seen this happen. I think I have been tied up in the possible manipulations, such as:

Will you forgive me? - but the person doesn’t accept responsibility and is saying this as a standard line to stop conversation; or is saying it to stop the other person being angry, to stop them expressing themselves; or they are pretending to be contrite and understanding but will do the same thing again; said in certain way it means ‘please don’t punish me I didn’t mean it’ etc etc…

I forgive you – because I’m better than you and I have the power to forgive you, you don’t have any power. I forgive you because I’m morally superior and you’re a lesser mortal. I forgive you because you need forgiving, you’re so bad but you can’t help yourself. I forgive you because I don’t give a damn about what you’ve done, it doesn’t matter to me. I forgive you because you don’t understand yourself, but I understand you – better than you do…

I guess what those thoughts show is that whenever I tried to have a sensible human conversation along these lines, I ended up being confused whether I was near forgiving or being forgiven. This is a really tough idea for me, that forgiveness is a mutual thing, although I accept that it is, I just don’t see people doing it without being put in a room with a mediator of some kind. I haven’t mixed with anyone with this depth of understanding.

Why forgive? Because harbouring negative emotions hurts. How? By understanding. I can forgive my parents to an extent, but as they don’t understand that I think they require any forgiveness, it has to happen inside me, I have to let the bad feelings go. If they said ‘sorry’ that might be mutual and it would all be okay, but that ain’t gonna happen; but I don’t think that excludes me from partly forgiving them, by understanding them. 

to ask for it seems out-of-sync

If I ask someone to forgive me, I’m judging them to be at a stage where they’re not angry or resentful any more. Isn’t that a bit presumptuous of me? Particularly as I’m the one who has made a poor choice? Or is this about power? If I ask for forgiveness, I’m putting myself at risk of you saying no. I guess ‘do you forgive me’ is a clarifying question though. I would rather say ‘do you think you will be able to forgive me?’. yah. Less onus on them.

LoH

Do you think that silence can also be a case of not having anything to say? Not talking, imho, can be a result of excellent understanding: a person can understand another's POV with clarity and still disagree wholeheartedly.

Like me and my parents? I’d rather be silent than talk to them now.

There may be few absolutes...

Sela

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Re: Patience
« Reply #62 on: June 02, 2006, 12:21:21 PM »
Hiya P:

There really is so much to think about here eh?  I've never examined it all this closely before.  I guess I'm just living in some kind of mini-ignorant bliss  :oops:.

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So do you ask for forgiveness for a mistake? (Tricky, is a mistake your ‘fault’, responsibility?)

I've always thought of forgiveness as a kind of gift.  A gift I give others.  A gift I give myself.  A gift others give me.

And if I make a mistake......in ignorance and it causes unintentional hurt to someone else......I feel responsible.
Maybe that's not the right way to feel but it is what I feel.  I guess I think:  "It's not their fault" and "It's no one's fault" but in my over-responsible way......I take the blame.......I feel sorry for hurting them, even though by mistake........and so I hope by saying so......they will forgive me.

Suddenly......I remember something that happened in my life.  My mother and her sister were very close, emotionally, but they lived 500 km away from eathother.  Still.....they managed to visit......both families......as often as possible.  We used to go to their place for a couple of weeks in the summer and they used to come to ours for the same.  We went at Christmas and Easter and Thanksgiving.  Thus, I spent a lot of my time with my cousins (a girl, two years younger, who I felt close with, and a boy, the same age, who seemed jealous of our closeness and out to sabotage it---once ...he told her she was allergic to me and she believed him, but that's another story). 

Anyway.......my girl cousin and I spent all this time together and in between we were allowed to phone, long distance, and we wrote letters.  We wrote endearing things and shared our deepest secrets, feelings, etc.

Then tragedy struck.  My aunt, mom's sister, died, very suddenly.  She was only 46 years old.

We were at their place and the adults decided they would drive to our place, 500 km south.  My mom had a new car and had never driven all that way.....up and back before and she was nervous.  And I wanted to go to the pancake house.   There is was on the left side of the road and I shouted:  "There it is!!" and my mom stepped on her brakes too quickly and my uncle and aunt's car, behind us.....bumped into us.  There was no real damage to either vehicle.

A day after we all arrived at our place, my aunt had a diabetic reaction and went into a coma.  She was rushed to the hospital.  She was unconscious for a week and then died.

My boy cousin, who was 11, told my girl cousin, who was 9, that it was my fault their mother had died because if I hadn't wanted and yelled to go to the pancake house, their mother would not have been put through the shock of that accident and that's what caused her to go into her coma and later die.

I tried and tried to keep in touch with those two cousins and my uncle after my aunt died (as did my mother).  As I grew up, I kept trying.

They were cold and uncommunicative until finally........my boy cousin blurted out that this was the reason why!!  I was responsible for their mother's death and that was that.  I apologized, explained that I was a kid and it was a mistake.  I was sorry and sure didn't mean to cause such a thing to happen (even though....I know it's ridiculous.......and this was probably not the cause of her death).  I took full responsibility for my "mistake" and begged for forgiveness.  Nothing I said or could say or do would ever change their minds.  And I, after trying and trying some more, finally gave up and we lost touch.

So ya.......you are so right about how tricky it is about who's fault is who's and what's what P.  In my cousin's heads........I was at fault.  It would have done me no good not to take on the fault, I think.  It would have proved to them how selfish I was.......just like I was when I wanted to go to the pancake house, instead of picking a place on the right side of the road, the easier side to turn off on, or let someone else decide where to go to eat.  I was, in their minds (and voices because they did say all of this)......selfish and responsible for her death.  The only possible way I could see of ever keeping communication open long enough for real understanding to come.........was to express my sorrow.......take on the blame......and beg for forgiveness.

Had I argued:  "No.  It wasn't my fault.  These things happen.  She was diabetic.  It was her disease that killed her.  Not the shock of that small accident.  I was a kid.  Give me a break.  etc"

Wouldn't they have proof of my selfishness......my not being a responsible person.......

I couldn't change their belief.  And they were kids when this horrible thing happened to them.  They lost the mother they loved with all of their little hearts.  They were both devastated.  The despair was immense.  They needed someone or something to blame because they were just kids too.   And I reminded them of what life used to be like......every time they heard from me.....every time I tried to connect with them......I have a feeling......it hurt just hearing from me.

It was kinder to let them go.......to give up and easier for them......not to have me around.

It didn't do me any good to take responsibility for a mistake or a mistaken belief but it might have...it could have....maybe?  I don't know.  I still don't know what would have helped.  Maybe there is nothing?  It was the only gift I could think of to give them.

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Gosh he did much, much worse than that. That was very mild. He was sacked though, after I left, I was probably instrumental in that happening, but it was overdue. He wasn’t particularly awful as a person, merely stupid, ignorant and had an unrealistic image of himself. He was a bully too but I doubt he took any sick pleasure from it. I almost feel sorry for him. But not quite.

Sounds like an awful experience.  Did it leave scars?  I'm glad he's fired!!  There are too many bully bosses!!

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Will you forgive me? - but the person doesn’t accept responsibility and is saying this as a standard line to stop conversation;


Oh Yes! Particularly some abusers eh?  The plead for forgiveness, with who knows what intentions, but they don't do a thing to change the way they behave.....take no steps to correct their behaviour.  It destroys trust.

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I forgive you – because I’m better than you and I have the power to forgive you, you don’t have any power. I forgive you because I’m morally superior and you’re a lesser mortal. I forgive you because you need forgiving, you’re so bad but you can’t help yourself. I forgive you because I don’t give a damn about what you’ve done, it doesn’t matter to me. I forgive you because you don’t understand yourself, but I understand you – better than you do…

I feel sad thinking this has been your experience.  The words:  "I forgive you" could be a real trigger that start the wheels of mistrust turning eh?

What I mean, when I say I forgive you is:

I forgive you because I understand and believe you meant no harm, made a poor choice, had misleading thoughts and aren't perfect.  I'm not perfect either and have done the same thing (made mistakes, poor choices, had weird thoughts that lead me in the wrong direction) so that makes it easier for me to understand.  I forgive you because I believe you have learned and will do your best not to do the same thing again.   I forgive you because I believe you are a good person who is only trying to behave as well as you can, like most other people probably are.  Like I am.  I forgive you because I'm your friend and I want to understand and I don't want to have angry feelings or resentment in me against you and have no reason to, now that you've explained and I understand.  I forgive you because I believe you are sorry for the hurt I felt, regardless of blame but because you are thinking of me and my pain and not focussing on defending yourself but on doing what you can to help me feel better.  The least gift I can give you in return and to myself is to forgive, under the circumstances.  It almost seems more selfish than generous, considering how well you've handled the situation.
I don't want to be selfish and hope you feel better too.  Is there anything I can say that would help you?  Anything bothering you that it might help to talk about, in regard to this whole thing?  Or maybe better by pm?  Let me know, please?

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This is a really tough idea for me, that forgiveness is a mutual thing, although I accept that it is, I just don’t see people doing it without being put in a room with a mediator of some kind. I haven’t mixed with anyone with this depth of understanding.


I keep saying it takes two to tango but it surely does, doesn't it?  I think it does.  Communication is hard work.  You did your share.......I did mine........right?  We don't give up easily P.  8)  That's gotta be a good thing.

I'm sure people do it all the time.  That's how they stay married for 75 years.  That's how great life long friendships happen.  Maybe not about every little thing......all this understanding and communicating......but that's the really big and generous thing about forgiving.  Sometimes, small stuff is forgiven without much fuss at all.  And a lot of small stuff....can add up to a big mess, so maybe it's a good thing to just forgive it along the way?    That's what I imagine.  Mind you, I haven't been married for 75 years and I don't have a life long friend, so there you go.

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If I ask someone to forgive me, I’m judging them to be at a stage where they’re not angry or resentful any more. Isn’t that a bit presumptuous of me?

 I suppose so.  Timing can be really tricky.  The way I think I usually say it is......."I hope you will forgive me or be able to find it in your heart to forgive me......or one day forgive me".   I think I'm also expressing my desire to connect again, especially, if I've taken responsibility for my behaviour, expressed my remorse, offered to do whatever possible to make up for the damage I've caused, and am willing to take steps to ensure I don't repeat my behaviour.  At that point, and depending on the person/situation.......it seems reasonable to hope or express that hope for their forgiveness.

But you are absolutely right that it is definitely the other person's choice whether to forgive or not, when they feel ready and able.

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Or is this about power? If I ask for forgiveness, I’m putting myself at risk of you saying no. I guess

I think that too.  I mean, they can now bring down the hammer on your head and say:  "Nope.  Never in a million years".  Making all of your efforts seem invaluable.  All your explaining....a waste of good air.......and all your other indications of being responsible/making amends........unworthy.  They can do that.  Yep.  Big power there, I think.

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Like me and my parents? I’d rather be silent than talk to them now.

Thing is.......they aren't likely to come to you.....begging for forgiveness.....showing remorse for their behaviour, taking responsibility and all the rest of it, are they?  So the real question is.........

Do you now........forgive them.....anyway?
Or do you hold onto your feelings of anger and resentment and only show them......by being silent?

Or is the silence a way of protecting yourself from any more of their harmful behaviour (or neglect/whatever)?
And do you forgive.......release whatever feelings are tormenting you.....for your own good?

Selfish?

How can I possibly say that?  I just like to.  It's good to be selfish, in this instance, imo.

((((((((((((P))))))))))))))  This feels like another 20,000'er. :roll:

 :D Sela
« Last Edit: June 02, 2006, 12:37:19 PM by Sela »

Hops

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Re: Patience
« Reply #63 on: June 02, 2006, 02:00:25 PM »
Hi ((((P & S & S)))))). I know I posted this once but I can't find the old one. Hope it's OK to repeat. I know it was a huge help to me. You guys are already there and beyond, but maybe others who are newer here will find help in it. Hugs--Hops
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He still wakes up at night with the sound of his mothers’ voice in his ears.  Cold, critical, belittling, the words she used to diminish every accomplishment, to tarnish every hope are still playing in his mind like a tape, even though she has lost the capacity for coherent speech now.  When he thinks of her, his shoulders tense, his eyes dart.  His face assumes a defensive, hostile tautness.  He looks more like her than he cares to imagine.

She has tried to forget, but the accident left marks that go deeper than the long-healed bruises and the occasional ache from her broken arm and ribs.  The headlights swerving in front of her, the screech of wheels, the words she shouted just before the collision.  He was drunk, he was driving too fast, he lost control of his car.  Up to that moment, she was happy, confident, secure in her sense of safety in the world.  He went to jail for a few months and was fined.  She has carried the consequences within her through all the years since, and she is still afraid every time she gets in a car.

The picture of those buildings falling, the sight of people jumping rather than facing the flames or the collapse, the flashes of terror we feel or imagine from all the desperate and doomed people inside the buildings or the airplanes – these remain imprinted on our national psyche, waiting to ambush us at unexpected moments.  Along with them come images of people dancing and cheering over the hurt done to America, images of frightening-looking fanatical men in foreign-looking clothes pontificating on the righteousness of terrorists whose life is given for the sole purpose of taking other lives, martyrdom to the god of suffering and destruction.

We do harm to each other in so many ways -- small and great, misguided and purposeful, personal and impersonal.  Each act of harm creates an imbalance, each act disfigures the fabric of humanity that weaves all women and men together.  As a victim, I suffer a disruption of my life and my sense of self:  Another person claims the right to treat me as an object, establishing power over my body, my actions, my choices, my inner life and my spirit.  My worth in the world is denied by someone who uses violence, trickery, or some other coercive power to enforce their view.

But as the one who harms another, no matter what momentary feeling of power I might gain, my humanity is diminished as well.  My harmful act fractures my relationship not only with my victim but with all of humankind.  My connection with my community now depends on denial, on lies, on distortions of the truth I know.  I carry shame, fear, and the self-knowledge that I am capable of actions I cannot genuinely justify.

How can we respond to all of this hurt?  How do we restore what has been destroyed?

Our instincts, our culture, and our institutions all seem to provide a ready answer:  We seek to restore justice by inflicting punishment.  The parent who treated us badly is cut off, or subjected to continuous reminders of what they should have done better.  The abuser or the sex offender becomes a pariah, marked for life.  The criminal is stripped of liberty and rights, and confined to a jail that all too often shears away any last vestige of human compassion and dignity that might survive in them.

As for terrorists and their supporters, we have a special category for them.  We write them clear out of the human family and declare ourselves exempt from all legal limits in pursuit of the retribution we know we are entitled to.     

Does any of this move us toward healing the torn fabric of humanity?

There is another way.

There is an act with the power to correct the imbalance caused by harmful actions.  There is an act with the power to restore the victim’s sense of self, an act with the power to bring the transgressor back into full membership in the family of humanity. 

Forgiveness can do what retribution can never accomplish.  Forgiveness can heal the spiritual wounds of the victim; forgiveness can restore the transgressor to the common life of the community.  Forgiveness can transform antagonists on the brink of mutually assured destruction into partners creating a new world together.

Thich Nhat Hanh’s breathing meditation on our parents points toward the inner healing forgiveness makes possible.  When someone hurts me, they project their own hurt, anger, and bitterness into me.   I carry that person with me from then on.  Even after they can no longer claim power over me, as long as I am unable to forgive that power remains.  Refusing to forgive, I hold onto my hurt and my role as victim.  To forgive in this context means to let go of my hurt and resentment, to surrender my desire to punish the one who hurt me, and to claim the power that only I have:  The power to heal.  To forgive means to say that my own healing and peace are more important to me than my sense of injury and outrage. 

This kind of forgiveness doesn’t depend on the cooperation of the person who hurt you, and it doesn’t necessarily lead to an actual reconciliation.  It is an inward matter, between you and the projection of that other person you carry inside.  It can happen even if they have long since left your actual life -- even if they have died.  As the meditation suggests, you can find them within you, and you can see their harmful act in the light of the suffering in them that led them to take such an action.  You can offer them the compassion they needed for that suffering, the compassion that might have made them a different person.  In that act of imaginative compassion you begin to heal yourself as well.

Ten years ago, in the first years after Nelson Mandela was elected President of South Africa, that country’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission became a laboratory for studying the power of forgiveness.  The Commission’s Chair, the Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu, wrote a memoir of that time called No Future Without Forgiveness.  For nearly three years, the Commissioners listened as hundreds of people described dreadful things that had happened to them under apartheid, and as hundreds of applicants for amnesty told harrowing stories of the wrongs they had done. In story after story, the healing power of honest acts of forgiveness is revealed, not just for the victims, but also for those who had harmed them.  Here is one of those stories.

Amy Biehl was an American student, a Fulbright scholar from California attending the University of the Western Cape in South Africa.  One day she drove friends home from school to Gugulethu, one of the townships that served as ghettos for black South Africans under apartheid.  In an outbreak of violent street protest, she was attacked and killed by a mob of youths.  When the young men who took part in the attack applied to the Commission for amnesty, Amy’s parents supported their petition and became involved with the families of the murderers.  A few years later Linda and Peter Biehl established the Amy Biehl Foundation, an organization providing education and training for young people in Gugulethu, with the goal of keeping them away from criminal violence and giving them hope for better lives.  One of the killers has become a trainer and leader in a Foundation program, and he sees the Biehls regularly when they travel to South Africa.  Their forgiveness saved his life, and now he is helping them save other lives as well.

When forgiveness is meant to lead to reconciliation as well as inner healing, Tutu says, then the cooperation of the transgressor is necessary.  There must be an honest accounting of what happened.  Just telling the truth of what happened to them begins to reconstruct the broken autonomy of the victim, and the act of confession and asking for forgiveness begins to restore the buried, distorted humanity of the perpetrator.  Then some agreement for restoration must be made:  How will the one who has done harm work with her or his victims to restore what they have destroyed?  Everyone must acknowledge what cannot be made better, and then everyone must agree that some reparations must be made.  This form of restorative, rather than retributive justice is what made the Truth and Reconciliation process unique.

Could our own criminal justice system be transformed by such a practice?

Tutu repeatedly argues that people like Linda and Peter Biehl are not saintly, not some special kind of person different from you or me.  They are ordinary people caught up in extraordinary times, who make one remarkable choice:  The choice to forgive in the face of pain, instead of demanding retribution.  It is that choice that is extraordinary, and its power unleashes extraordinary events.

Over and over, Tutu and the other Commission members witnessed the power of forgiveness to transform anger into reconciliation, hatred into restored relationship, enmity into peace.  From his experiences with the Commission he argues that forgiveness has the power not just to reconcile individuals, but to restore an entire society which had been disfigured by horrific atrocities to some hope of moving forward.  Without the Commission, he is convinced, South Africa could never have made a peaceful transition from white supremacy to a genuinely representative, multiracial government.

In my preparations for today, I came across two versions of a story.  In one version two soldiers stand before the Vietnam Veteran’s memorial in Washington.  In another version two Holocaust survivors are talking together.  The conversation in both versions is the same.  “Have you forgiven them?” one friend says to the other.  “Yes, I have,” the other one says.  “Well, I haven’t.” the first one replies.  “I still remember everything they did to me, and I will never forgive them for it.”  There is a pause, and the second friend says gently, “Then it seems they still have you in prison, don’t they?”

Is there a prison in your life?   Are you carrying hurt from something that happened to you, resentment over something someone said or did?  Are you angry with someone right now?  All of us have been victims of harm at some time – and all of us have been transgressors who need to ask for forgiveness.  The hurt, the resentment, the anger are prison walls, locking us away from our own best selves, keeping us bound up in the event that still gives us so much pain. 

Anger and retribution will never heal the spirit of a survivor of a neglectful, or cruel, or abusive family.  Only forgiveness can do that.  Anger and retribution will never restore someone who has done wrong to their place as a full participant in the community.  Only forgiveness and restitution can do that.  Anger and retribution will never end the cycles of terrorism and counterattack that now seem to threaten everyone in the world.  Only forgiveness and the creation of a world community with justice, equity, and compassion for all will do that.  And that community cannot be created by anger, or by force of arms, or by retribution.  Only forgiveness has that power.

All of us have prisons in our own lives.   We did not build the walls.  But we can take them down.

(sermon by a Unitarian minister)

Sela as guest

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Re: Patience
« Reply #64 on: June 02, 2006, 09:38:50 PM »
Hi Hops:

What a lovely sermon.  I love it.
Thankyou so much for posting it again.  I missed it the first time.

 :D Sela