You Will Laugh is perhaps an unusual title for June’s topic of Forgiveness. I had planned to share some ideas to help make this siddhi (spiritual superpower) easier for us. I was going to talk about my father and how he was my greatest role model. But then something unexpected happened today--making me really mad!--challenging me to take a look at the importance of laughter on our path of practicing forgiveness.
My dad was always looking for things to laugh at and was also one of the most compassionate, forgiving people I know. He was the first in his farming family to go to college, not to mention marry a non-Mennonite woman. I have an inkling that this is how he developed the capacity to forgive, for to leave the realm of what we know and what is expected of us is to invite scorn, disapproval and rejection. These types of experiences either make us bitter, and project our wounds onto other people, or they make us stronger and more compassionate. My Dad surely chose the latter.
This month marks four years since my dad passed away, as well as the month of Father's Day. Perhaps I should not be surprised that I began thinking about him when one of my students requested that I cover this topic of forgiveness from a yogic perspective. I did my usual walk in the woods, and during this walk remembered an experience that occurred soon after my Dad’s death. This happened during a time of great transition and struggle for me, at which time a healer shared a vision she received for me where she saw my father (who was very tall) pushing his way through a crowd of spiritual guides, his hands waving, saying “I’ll help!” “I’ll help!”
I trusted this intuition so much because that is just exactly what my dad would do. And it made me laugh. The one-word-message he had for me?
Release.
Release. I’ve been trying to understand that word for four years. Some of what I have experienced is how freeing and healing it is to release a relationship that did not turn out well. This helped me forgive myself, as well as others, regardless of the roles we played. This required a release of control, and a willingness to be open to a larger picture I couldn't fully understand.
Perhaps most profoundly for me was learning to release the need to feel good about any of it. The point is not to feel good. Which is why today’s mishap--the one that made me really mad!--happened. I was prepared to write this article and my husband messed up my plans. How was I to write an article on forgiveness when I was feeling this annoyed and angry at my husband?
That’s when I laughed. It took some major willpower, but I recognized it was truly a choice. Just like the choice my father had made to be a compassionate, loving person despite external circumstances.
I look forward to a deeper dive with next week’s Yoga Philosophy video on this topic!
I will share some perspectives from ancient and modern teachers to help us embrace opportunities to forgive, to see how the discomfort, vulnerability and courage it requires provide necessary steps toward uplifting the higher vibration of humanity that is ready to come in for ourselves and the world.
My decision to teach this guarantees I’ll have another chance to practice. I won’t lie. I’m a little nervous! May we all invite in the lightness of laughter, for ourselves and others, as we ease into this challenging practice of forgiveness.
Do you have a forgiveness story to share? Something you’ve learned that helped you along the way? Please share in the comments below and we will be grateful.
With Great Love, and Happy Father’s Day,
Julie
P.s. My Dad’s name was Wilson, often called “Will”, and I can hear him laughing at my punny title, ‘You Will Laugh’.
Content related to this months theme:
Guiding Theme | Issue #104 | You Will Laugh!
Yoga Philosophy | Issue #105 | Our Forgiving Nature
Our Yoga Nature | Issue #106 | Forgiveness Lifts Us to a Higher Dimension
Yoga Therapy Class | Issue #107 | The Light and Hum of Our Spiritual Nature
I will tell you a story of my mom, who I had a difficult relationship with, telling me about the moment she forgave her mom, my grandmother, who suffered from schizophrenia. We were at my parent's house and I was a young woman.
"Do you remember how Grandma used to come visit us?" My mom was a troubled soul with a list of at least six mental health diagnoses but perceptive and reflective. She was in her own way, trying to teach me.
"Yes, sort of." I truthfully replied to my mom who I always feared might launch into some sort of unpredictable abusive rant because her unseen feelings were hurt. I held vigil around her that at any moment I'd step on her tiger's tail that mysteriously appeared in my path.
"Well, it was the day she woke up on a rare sleepover here and used her left hand to lean up against the wall, propping herself up as she made her way to the living room, because she was in so much pain."
I winced. My feminine line is so full of fear, chaos, and heartache, unrealized dreams. "Why was she in so much pain?" I asked afraid for the answer.
"She had constant headaches from the medication she took to control the voices in her head. And she was dizzy in the morning. She told me she had to steady herself like a drunken sailor on a ship in a storm."
"Sad, really. So sad for Grandma." I told my mom. I might have even cried but probably not in my mother's presence.
"Well," my mom began again and this time there was a rare softness to her eyes as they filled with tears. "it was in that moment that I really saw my mom's suffering and I forgave her."
There was no one moment that I saw my mother's suffering. That may have been easier. For me it's come over time and therapy and study and yoga and life experience. I would like to think I have forgiven, released her for not being the mother I needed her to be. But it continues to be a choice I make.
In my experience forgiveness is a process or on a spectrum that can vary from time to time. Do I ever really feel like I get there and stay there for certain people??