Inspiration: "Broadripple is Burning" by Margot and the Nuclear So and So's
"Forgiveness is a loaded word," she said after absorbing what I had just told her. What does forgiveness entail? What expectations are associated with forgiving someone? There are so many "shoulds" that go along with this idea of forgiveness. Why can't forgiveness just be?
This reminded me of what the Father said at Mass a few weeks ago. Yes, I went to church. No I am not religious, but I have been known to go to church for family obligations and sometimes meditation. Sometimes I just like sit there and listen to what the priest has to say about some obscure Gospel in the Bible. This time in particular it was about forgiveness and the difference between saying you forgive someone and knowing deep down in your heart that this is true. So what is the difference? How do you know deep down in your heart that you have forgiven someone? When does that feeling come? What causes the feeling to even happen in the first place?
So I sat there. And she asked me what forgiveness meant to me. I did not know what to say so I sat there in silence as I thought about the feeling I had in my heart. I didn't know how to describe it. I didn't know what it was, let alone what it meant. I just knew that I didn't feel like the word forgiveness could be defined by a single word, phrase, or even paragraph. Forgiveness, to me, cannot be tied up neatly. It bursts at the seams. It is disorderly. It is chaotic. It is complicated. It burns your tongue as you take a sip. It leaves a skid mark on the toilet. It leaves a ringing in your ears. It echoes everything that is said. It makes you gasp for air. It is taking a shot of cheap tequila without a lime. It makes you feel peace. It helps you sit down and finish writing that novel you promised yourself you'd write. It makes you laugh like a child being tickled. It is starting the morning off with a great cup of coffee. It is looking forward to every Monday. It is enjoying all the people around you. It is trusting that the parachute is going to open. It is knowing that there are no ghosts haunting you.
I sat there, my ears ringing, as I tried to articulate what I felt. What I felt like saying was that I don't know what forgiveness is supposed to look like, really, but I know that there are too many skid marks, and I am not sure I can afford cleaning products at the moment.
"Forgiveness is a loaded word," she said after absorbing what I had just told her. What does forgiveness entail? What expectations are associated with forgiving someone? There are so many "shoulds" that go along with this idea of forgiveness. Why can't forgiveness just be?
This reminded me of what the Father said at Mass a few weeks ago. Yes, I went to church. No I am not religious, but I have been known to go to church for family obligations and sometimes meditation. Sometimes I just like sit there and listen to what the priest has to say about some obscure Gospel in the Bible. This time in particular it was about forgiveness and the difference between saying you forgive someone and knowing deep down in your heart that this is true. So what is the difference? How do you know deep down in your heart that you have forgiven someone? When does that feeling come? What causes the feeling to even happen in the first place?
So I sat there. And she asked me what forgiveness meant to me. I did not know what to say so I sat there in silence as I thought about the feeling I had in my heart. I didn't know how to describe it. I didn't know what it was, let alone what it meant. I just knew that I didn't feel like the word forgiveness could be defined by a single word, phrase, or even paragraph. Forgiveness, to me, cannot be tied up neatly. It bursts at the seams. It is disorderly. It is chaotic. It is complicated. It burns your tongue as you take a sip. It leaves a skid mark on the toilet. It leaves a ringing in your ears. It echoes everything that is said. It makes you gasp for air. It is taking a shot of cheap tequila without a lime. It makes you feel peace. It helps you sit down and finish writing that novel you promised yourself you'd write. It makes you laugh like a child being tickled. It is starting the morning off with a great cup of coffee. It is looking forward to every Monday. It is enjoying all the people around you. It is trusting that the parachute is going to open. It is knowing that there are no ghosts haunting you.
I sat there, my ears ringing, as I tried to articulate what I felt. What I felt like saying was that I don't know what forgiveness is supposed to look like, really, but I know that there are too many skid marks, and I am not sure I can afford cleaning products at the moment.
