Tag: Four Simple Phrases

The Freedom of Forgiveness

Last week, we looked at the ways we’re enriched when we apologize for our errors. “I’m sorry” is one of the four phrases that, when said from the heart, brings healing and restoration.

I’m sorry.
Please forgive me.
Thank you.
I love you.

One recent tradition refers to the repetition of the four phrases as “cleaning,” an expression that feels right on target after you get some experience in using them. Some people use the four phrases to clean a room, for example, neutralizing and transforming heavy-feeling energies into lighter ones, raising the vibrations of the space. But primarily, home is the best place to start–the home where the core You lives.

This week’s phrase, “Please forgive me,” naturally follows “I’m sorry.” Forgiveness is what we need in order to make amends, to put our mistakes behind us. It’s what we ask for when we recognize our short-sightedness, our lack of thought, our defiance or disregard of a known better way.

Who we are asking to forgive us is a matter of personal world-view. Some address their plea to what they think of as their higher self or their better self. Some silently address their request to the hearts and minds of everyone involved. Maybe you ask God, or Source, the Great Yes, the Monitor of Mysteries. Direct your request to whatever holds the most meaning for you.

At its center, forgiveness is an act of compassion. It’s not really about whatever is being forgiven, whatever thought or word or deed. It’s about the person who did or failed to do the better thing. Forgiveness isn’t an act of justice; it’s an act of benevolence. Justice deals with the wrong action and seeks to find a suitable means to compensate for it. Forgiveness deals with the person who erred.

What you’re really saying when you ask for forgiveness is, “Please don’t hold this against me. Please look beyond it and see the whole of me.” When I ask for forgiveness, it’s my recognition that I am not this mistake. I acknowledge that I made it; but it is not who I am.

Asking for forgiveness is actually an act of personal responsibility, a realization that I, myself, am in charge of how I’ll feel about this mistake I made. I restore myself to greater wholeness when I allow myself to be forgiven. To accept forgiveness is to adopt a radical acceptance of what is, the whole of what is, not just this one stain. It’s a decision to remember the greater context for this moment that brought discomfort or pain, and to remember that the context is vast, many-faceted and many-layered.

That’s not to say that we should condone our mistaken acts. Right and wrong and good and bad are real. One choice enlarges life; one depletes it. One choice makes me larger; the other makes me small. When I can face the fact that I made a lesser choice, I can feel my disappointment in myself. I can sincerely say, “I’m sorry,” and then I can ask for the balancing grace that comes with accepting forgiveness.

Not allowing myself to ask for forgiveness is an act of perverted pride, thinking my error is too great to deserve forgiveness. It’s an attempt at self-punishment, as if recognizing the error for what it is doesn’t deliver sufficient pain. It’s a kind of auto-immune disease of the ego. And all it takes to heal it is to allow yourself to say, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

Forgiveness is an act of kindness, an act of love. It allows you to set the gritty, brittle hardness of resentment aside, to be free to see more generous possibilities.

Forgiveness heals. It lets you get past the injuries and errors and move on. It bestows enhanced compassion for the errors of others, for the injuries others cause. When I see cruelty or maliciousness in the world, I can say “I’m sorry,” on behalf of all mankind for the blindness that still besets us. I can say “Please forgive us,” and free myself to think, instead, of ways that I can bring more harmony into the world.

Forgiveness frees.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.
I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.
I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.

Powerful stuff.

Take it for a whirl.

Warmly,
Susan

Image by Susan K Minarik

The Gifts of I’m Sorry

The first time I heard the phrase “Love means never having to say you’re sorry,” I wrinkled up my nose. It didn’t make any sense to me at all. I think it came from a movie, a mushy romance of some kind. I didn’t see it. I didn’t like its theme song or something. But I kept trying to figure out what the phrase meant. To me, it sounded like they were saying you didn’t have to apologize to someone who loved you because they would forgive you anyway.

Comedian Alan Alda, on the other hand, when he was popular for playing the character Hawkeye on M.A.S.H. said he knew the secret of a happy marriage. He and his wife had been married for 25 years at the time. “When you come home at night,” he said, “the first thing you do is put your arms around her, gently kiss her neck, and whisper in her ear, “I’m sorry.” He says there’s bound to be something she thought you did wrong.

When you think about it, it’s kind of arrogant to think you have nothing to apologize for, or nothing to regret. That’s a lack either of self-awareness or of propriety. And it takes the other’s love for granted, too, if you don’t think they deserve an “I’m sorry.”

When you pay attention, you can catch yourself doing things big and small that you wish you might have done differently. You said something, or didn’t say something. You did something, or didn’t do something. Sometimes you catch yourself entertaining a repulsive thought.

When you notice yourself tripping up, however large or small your stumble might be, and you say, “I’m sorry,” a wave of self-acceptance washes over you. You acknowledge the part of yourself that erred and let yourself feel the embarrassment, annoyance, frustration, shame, anger, even pain that it brought you. You learn on a feeling-level the value of making better choices, of going with your higher instincts. You learn. And that’s a beautiful thing. Some say it’s our whole reason for being here.

Saying “I’m sorry” keeps us humble, too. It reminds us of our human limitations and imperfections, as much as we all would like to pretend that we have none. (Or at least fewer than the average bear.)

Sometimes you whisper it to yourself, to the core of you, however you imagine that to be: “I’m sorry.” Sometimes you say it out loud to someone else, out of courtesy or from a desire to mend a wound you caused, intentionally or not. Either way, there’s something healing about it. It puts you back in touch with reality in a more conscious way.

And here’s something you’ll discover as you work with this simple phrase, “I’m sorry.” Deep down, you’re sorry for the whole human race, every single member of it going back before the beginning of time. Especially, perhaps, for your ancestors. You offer apologizes on behalf of every one of them. Because they would want you to. We, as human beings, are sorry for the times and the ways in which we have failed, that we have let ourselves and each other down.

I guess you address that one to the universe, to all sentient beings everywhere. It lets them know we are aware and willing to take responsibility. We are evolving. Bit by bit.

But mostly “I’m sorry” is a personal thing. It’s a balancer, a reconciler, It corrects your course, anchors you to your center and reminds you who, at core, you are and want always to express. It’s a kind of sign you give to yourself that you’re on the right path.

It’s one of the four simple phrases that change everything. You can say them in any order that you like. Or play with them in pairs or one at a time. Experiment with them at your ease, and see what happens. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.

Wow.

Next week, we’ll look at what it means to forgive and to ask forgiveness. But let that go for now. For now, see when “I’m sorry” slips into your mind . . . And may you feel its many blessings.

Warmly,
Susan