To Forgive is to be Whole
I wrote this piece for a scholarship with the topic, “The Benefits of Forgiveness." I did not receive the scholarship, but writing this proved a valuable opportunity to consider my perspectives on, and my relationship with, self-forgiveness.With these powerful winter moons upon us, I thought now a good time to share. (Also, I finally have a short break from deadlines!)Is self-forgiveness something you wrestle with, as well? I'd love to hear your insights and experiences in the comments!Thanks for reading and for being you.Always,Ma'ayan
To Forgive is to be Wholeby Ma'ayan Simon, December 15, 2017
In my dream I am hauling my body alongside myself, this deadweight I am bound to that is not me and also not not me. I cannot sever from the burden of myself, yet I am not whole in myself, either. I know this dream well: I lived it for years, railing against illness and my body. Only through forgiveness have I learned how to experience wholeness even, or especially, when in pain.When I first became ill at age 17, I spared no measure of conviction that I could outsmart and outmaneuver the pain. With each new treatment, I willed myself to believe this time it will last, this time I won't fail, this time I will be free. But, try as I might, I could not achieve "better.”"Pain upsets and destroys the nature of the person who feels it," wrote Aristotle in Nicomachean Ethics. This is how I felt—destroyed. My body became a detestable "other," unreliable and disloyal: the grand master of the hijacked neuro-feedback loops of pain. To accept the pain and illness as part of me felt like an admission of guilt that I was not strong enough or smart enough to "get better.” I could not reconcile how to be free and whole and in pain.Finally, I threw up my arms in resignation, begging my body,"What do you want from me?"It was meant as a rhetorical cry of desperation, but in my mind a voice responded,"Come back to me. Love me."This came as a shock: I was indignant that I was being wronged by my ungrateful body despite all the efforts I made to better it. I could not forgive my body for abandoning me. Hearing this little voice, I understood for the first time that by vacating my body I had abandoned myself. To connect with and forgive my broken parts is exactly what I needed to feel whole, free and alive.Paradoxically, the more that I connect lovingly with my broken parts, the more wholeness I experience. I have come to understand that forgiveness is sneaky this way. Through my ongoing practice of coming into my body again and again and again (even when I don't want to) to tenderly ask what it needs and forgive what I am not able to do, I can show up in the world to make an impact.I held a notion that to forgive is to relent and submit, something to do like "getting better." Now I know that forgiveness is a practice, an art of creation and communion with no beginning or end. From my body I learned that to forgive is a radical act of resistance and disobedience, to insist again and again that I deserve to feel whole as I am. I have come to know forgiveness not as a passive letting go but as a full body, heart, mind and soul claiming of my birthright to experience my deepest integrity.