There is one other very obvious reason why we may choose not to forgive (or not be able to), and that is because we are leaving ourselves open to receiving that same pain in future, by that same person or situation. Again, why would we knowingly want to leave ourselves vulnerable, open to attack, and feel insecure?
Being tight-fisted with loving forgiveness actually makes sense.
If we harken back to PART 1 this leaves us with a paradox:
We know that holding onto resentment is like drinking the poison, but it’s also sometimes a way of staying safe? How can we reconcile these things?
Let’s start with…
What it isn’t
Let’s not confuse forgiveness with remaining in harmful situations which are based on valid experience.
If all we have ever experienced when trying to cross the river with the boatman is that our money has been taken and we are left stranded, it doesn’t mean we would forgive and forget, and continue to pay the same boatman, or even any others. Exercising caution is not the same as being unforgiving.
But this doesn’t get round the fact it hurts when people continue to take advantage.
There’s something else at play.
I’d like to offer something that can explain this mess..
What exactly are you?
It seems to hinge on safety. We would rather drink harmful poison because the payoff is security.
But could be have both? Could we both forgive and feel safe doing so?
The answer is yes. True forgiveness incorporates a flexibility on viewing the self we are accustomed to, a willingness to either let parts of ourselves go in the form of pain or even see or relate to ourselves as something different, something bigger, deeper than the narrative or story we generally identify with.
I hinted at this idea when I said (in PART 1) ‘holding on to what we think we are.’
So what is this ‘other’ self, this bigger, deeper version?
To answer this we must ‘flesh out’ the conceptual self.
Do you realise that when I, or you, talk or think about our ‘selves’ or ‘self’ this is purely as a mental construct? An abstract, fleshless concept in our mind.
That concept has details, it has a history. We have selected certain details from everything that has happened to us or that we have partaken in and put them together in a way that creates a narrative, which is what we are actually referring to when we think and talk about our ‘selves’. And this exists in our mind as thoughts.
This narrative, our identity, is further evidenced by details such as the name we have, the way we look, the personality we have, the way we speak, how we earn our money and many many other things.
All of those details, and the story we carry around in our minds of our life’s narrative is what we relate to as the self.
This is of course very subjective. It’s our version of events that we see as us, and this means that all these things are transient – changeable or perishable. Nothing of those things is fixed. Not one.
We can lose or change many of those things and still be alive, having the same experience as we did before.
What of our ‘selves’ remains when all these details change?
This is a philosophical conundrum that goes back thousands of years.
How does this make sense of difficulties with forgiveness?
This is the ‘self’ that interprets painful experiences. Pain is related to the past (our story). If there was something that previously threatened our security then that is stored in memory as part of our narrative and that will be something to watch out for in future. The mind is on alert for anything that will be a repeat situation because this is what will make us feel weak, vulnerable or insecure again. We will avoid having it repeated but if we are not so lucky it may happen again. A painful experience is a revisitation of a previous episode.
This conceptual self is at the root of it all.
The Buddhists see ‘self-cherishing’ as the root of suffering. This terminology may be misleading but let’s just say it’s a way of saying that ‘identifying with the concept of self’ is the root of suffering and consequently liberation is attained from letting go of the self.
Many other religious philosophies have different flavours of this same thing. Being of service, doing charitable actions and getting involved in community is pretty universally understood and sometimes has no connection with religion but it has its roots in the Christian philosophy of self renunciation.
The function is to deflate the ego, otherwise known as the concept of the self. It also functions as widening or deepening a sense of self, a self that is connected to things other than the details of our own narrative. Some religions like the Jains and Hindus have splinter factions that see inflicting pain on the self as the means of killing the ego and take this to extreme levels though torture and hunger.
Whether you agree with this or not, it still has its roots in the knowledge that the conceptual self, the individual, is at the heart of our suffering and the barrier to liberation. Some people go to great lengths to have done with it.
Forgiveness is functional
So, forgiving, when done properly is actually a way of detaching from what we think we are. It’s a way of letting go of the past, our story, the narrative we believe to be our ‘selves’ and it needn’t be understood in a religious terms. It’s actually just very sound logic and a potent mechanism for growth and harmony.
When we think of ourselves as something we are not, it’s easier to receive and hold on to pain – anything that confirms the painful details of our story. Basically, if we define this conceptual self as our ego then it is the ego that is weak and prone to suffering.
It may seem counterintuitive, and also very difficult, but we are not defined by our pain. In it’s extreme this means we live a life of understanding ourselves to be victimised and even seeking out experiences that will confirm this – things that fortify our sense of self.
Easier said than done
This is why true forgiveness, true letting go, is difficult. It’s literally tied to the humongous feat of being able to renounce what we think we are as a self, which is everything we have ever known and experienced! All of our lives we have lived in a way where we identify with our ‘self’ or ego. We nurture and protect it, because this appears to be (our) life itself.
In 12-step recovery (from addiction) circles, the people most in pain, at their wits end, and their life’s edge, are also the most self-centred, selfish and self-obsessed. Recovery is facilitated by a program of ‘ego deflation’, starting with being of service with simple acts like making tea for members but more essentially . Of greater significance is putting your life in the hands of a higher power – something outside your control. In doing this, all of the existing behavioural mechanisms that served this self are either undone or let go of.
Are you starting to see the pattern?
The Spiritual Journey
If any of this makes sense, that we may be able to get our sense of security from something other than ourselves, it’s surely a bit easier to see now why the spiritual journey is undertaken?
This spiritual journey is the search for this greater, deeper self.
This is now my own journey, at times a painful journey but ultimately a beautiful one, finding peace and security in something other than all the ways I have previously tried to protect myself with ‘egoic’ behaviour, with every way and means of preserving the mental identity I have attached myself to.
It is a work in progress but it is definitely possible and definitely real. The strength I get to experience in being able to let parts of myself go – pains, resentments, judgments – is completely undeniable.
There is, without doubt, something greater than the ‘self’.
There can’t not be because of the strength that comes from residing in it.
When it is understood that the self that receives the pains is not our true self, and that our sense of security does not come from upholding and protecting that self, we are moving towards liberation, towards joy, towards being able to receive grievances without lasting pain.
to be continued…in PART 3
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