To Forgive and Not Forget

"Today I'd like to talk about an unpopular topic that no one likes hearing about. Today I'd like to talk about forgiveness." That's how my yoga teacher started a vinyasa class last Saturday, and it is just one of the many messages about forgiveness that I have happened upon in the past week. In my case, the teacher was close to the truth when she remarked that we don't like to talk about it, because I'm struggling to forgive right now and it doesn't feel good. It's much easier to cling to my feelings of betrayal and indignation than to sincerely examine the obstacles that prevent me from forgiving. So when my teacher started talking about the dreaded F word, I asked myself to truly listen to what she had to offer and to be equally open in the other encounters I've recently had with the subject. 

One of the biggest roadblocks for me has been the idea (and impossibility!) of just forgetting about the pain that someone caused me, especially in instances when the person won't even acknowledge that his or her actions caused me pain. As much as I wish I could forget certain moments–things I saw or heard or read–my brain has already forged the connections. Those circuits are hardwired now to evoke very strong emotions when triggered. But in the past week I've uncovered that forgiveness is not about forgetting or letting go of the pain. It's not about locking the door to that anger and throwing away the key. Forgiveness is about making conscious decisions about what I do when I feel the pain surface. 

The typical human response is to react with anger when something sparks a memory about a time we were wronged. Maybe we concoct some wild revenge plot. (We know it will never happen but it feels good to imagine anyway.) Or perhaps we make a passionate plea for karma to do its thing. 

We are conditioned to think this way because we believe in fairness and justice, but forgiveness offers us an opportunity to change the way we think. When we encounter the pain that someone's actions caused us, instead of unconsciously spiraling into anger and resentment we can intentionally acknowledge what happened and how we feel about it. It's okay to feel anger or betrayal or sadness and to sit with those feelings for a bit. But we can't stop there. The second step is to choose our focus. Do we dwell on the pain and relive every second of it in excruciating detail? Or do we ask ourselves to move forward and set our minds on something that lifts us up? Which is a better use of our precious time and energy?

Changing our pattern of reaction is easier said than done. I know that I am only hurting myself by staying angry at someone, but I have also realized that identifying as the victim in a situation gives me a sense of righteousness. In a backward way it makes me feel good about myself–look, I have never done that terrible thing so I must be a better person. If I practice forgiveness, I won't have this pedestal to look down from any more and I'll find myself standing amongst the people who hurt me. But if I'm honest with myself, that is right where I belong. I am choosing selfish action, too, by holding onto my righteous anger in order to feed my sense of self.

The truth is that we are all capable of making mistakes and of learning new ways to be. Right now I'm learning that forgiveness means choosing love, even when it's hard.