Untying the Knot; Thoughts on Forgiveness

I have taken quite a breather from writing--a three-year-breather--much longer than I intended. These past few years life has walloped me pretty good, between caring for young children and aging parents, holding down the fort while my husband works two jobs, starting my own business as a private tour guide, a cancer scare with my mom, and a slew of challenging interpersonal situations. There has been a lot to work through and figure out and I have been doing a lot more working through than figuring out.

In Thich Nhat Hanh's book True Love: A Practice for Awakening the Heart he says that when we hurt others through our words or actions, knots form in them. The work of love is to help untie these knots. With my own children, I'm often surprised at how easy it is to see the knot and help untangle it. Yesterday I found my youngest weeping on the floor in her room, in a fort she had built a few hours before. I crawled into the fort and lay down beside her. I asked her why she was crying, and she couldn't (or didn't want to) explain. So I just lay there beside her, my hand resting on her back, and soon her sobs turned to sniffles and then finally, a calm silence.

But this is easier with children, of course, because they are young still, trusting and malleable. What about my own knots? A couple of weeks ago, in the Eastern Orthodox Church, we entered into lent with the Rite of Forgiveness, a service in which everyone in the community asks forgiveness of everyone else. Each person says to the other, "Please Forgive me," and then the other can respond in a few different ways. They might say, "I forgive you," or "God forgives" or "May God forgive us all." I always opt for the latter because the older I get, the less confident I am in my own ability to forgive. Not that I don't want to, but I see clearly that I can't do it on my own. Forgiveness is a work of grace that travels its own mysterious path, in its own time, unravelling the knot in its own mysterious way.

So for me, at least, the beauty of the Rite of Forgiveness is that we simply express our openness to the grace that can unravel the knot. We express our intention and desire to have it unraveled and to help unravel the knots we cause in others.

So what about situations where no apology comes? What about people who are unaware of the knots they create? I have heard it said that forgiveness is learning to accept the apology that never came. Maybe that's partly true, but also, maybe it's not such a bad thing to hold onto anger for awhile, while also holding onto the intention to forgive. 

Anger has its place. It is a natural human response to a wrong. It is a red hot reminder that the person you trusted may not have been worthy of your trust and it is warning to never enter back into that relationship or situation in the same way again. Sometimes you'll have to step away totally, and sometimes you'll just have to enter into it differently, with eyes wide open and exit plan in place. For those seeking the courage and stamina to exit an abusive marriage, relationship or group, anger may be your best ally. The anger says: step back, be safe, not now, not ever again.
 
One of the most helpful things I've heard about forgiveness came from NPR's On Being. This podcast explores forgiveness and anger from a biological perspective. According to Michael McCullough, we are naturally equipped with both the desire for revenge and the capacity for forgiveness, although forgiveness is also a learned skill, and easier to achieve when certain conditions are met. Michael McCullough says that the first condition is safety. If the other person can convince you that they understand the damage they have done and that they will not harm you in the same way again, then you will naturally have an easier time forgiving them.

Last Friday I hiked Devastation Trail in Volcanoes National Park, a trail through a forest that was devastated by falling cinder from the lava fountains of the 1959 Kilauea Iki eruption. I love this path because you can see how resilient life is. Cinder can destroy a forest, lava can overcome a landscape, but in time (I have heard that it can take as much as one hundred years for lava to break down into one inch of soil) little plants begin to grow. These plants eventually grow into trees and birds return to nest in their branches and pollinate their blossoms. This gives me hope for my own heart, that all that is hard in it will in time, be softened into fertile soil where good things can grow.


THE GUEST HOUSE

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

— Jelaluddin Rumi,
    translation by Coleman Barks