You Are Free
I learned something magically profound today!
I cannot tell the full extent of the matter, for it would make some people angsty. However, I can tell just enough.
Basically, the realization I had was that so much of my energy used to be locked up inside my expectations for or frustrations with other people. I used to think that things should be a certain way or at least that things should make sense.
Some wrongs have been done to me over the years, and, as happens with broken people, I contributed my own wrongs to the interactions. My wrongs and others' wrongs wove into one, big, confusing, hurtful lack of communication. The problem that kept this all going was thinking that the people who wronged me were right to do what they did or that I was wrong to expect things to be any different.
The realization was that I have been wronged, and—while it is never excusable—it is understandable. While I have done and continue to do plenty wrong, it is important to realize that I also have been wronged.
While I thought the wrong-doers were right or I was just wrong, I was locked inside an endless cycle of frustration, voicing my frustrations, being told my frustrations were unfounded, and trying once again to reason away my feelings. So much of my focus, my energy was lost inside these endless, coiling cycles.
Today when was I was envisioning this transition, I saw so much of my energy, so much of my heart locked away in glass containers of frustration and hurt, orbs of smoke and confusion.
When I acknowledged that my feelings are legitimate and the doers were wrong, it wasn't released quite yet. I went through a process of forgiveness—not even in person, but I forgave the wrongdoers despite them, without them. Then, then, then these glass orbs of trapped life broke into a thousand beacons of passionate focus.
It has been such a complex process, and I can't share all the details yet because so many of them are still quite delicate, but feel free to ask me about it sometime, and perhaps I can tell more of the story.
Nevertheless, I want to impress upon you the possibility that you might have someone you need to forgive, even if they don't accept your forgiveness, even if they think they've done no wrong, even if they don't hear you or see how they've hurt you.
A way you can identify some of the people that have hurt you—some of the hurts inside which you've trapped your passion—is to think about your passions and identify the people who flood into your mind.
Think about what you want to do, what you sensibly desire deep in your heart. I'm not talking about tacky things like winning the lottery or owning a gold-plated mansion. I'm talking about the desires buried deep underneath your own fears and the guilt that others press on you.
Think about the passions you packed away into the vault of shame and self-defeat. Then look who's standing at that door. I bet you can easily imagine all the voices that have been telling you not to hope, not to consider a different life, not to try something new, not to attempt something you've dreamt of for as long as you can remember.
Imagine those voices, imagine those faces, and forgive them.
Think about it a different way: You still hope, you still dream, but quietly, silently almost. Whenever you whisper your dreams, these voices come clamoring in to tell you it's a worthless dream. Whenever you glance at the door to that vault, all the irritated-looking faces cover its surface. Whenever you touch the handle to that door, you can feel all the disappointment reverberating through it.
There was a time when you were soft and sensitive, healthy and hopeful. There was a time when they cut you deeply: the clamoring voices, the irritated faces, the disappointment. Now, there's some festering wound that you're told isn't there—or, if it is there, it's your fault.
So you hang onto the voices and faces, pleading with them to let you be heard, let you be free, or at least let you be healed. But again the voices say you are heard, you are free, and there's nothing wrong with you but your attitude.
But you still hang on, thinking they will change, thinking they will finally acknowledge your feelings if you scream loud enough long enough. At the end of the day, though, you just have a broken heart and a scarred voice.
So you learn to live with a broken heart because that seems normal, almost right. You live with a scarred voice because no one has ever heard you anyway. You live with the assumption that you should be broken from every angle by everyone that you know—especially by people that you love.
But you must forgive them.
When you were cut with kind words, when you were left bleeding by good intentions, you couldn't see that you were wronged, so you trapped yourself inside the paradox of feeling wrong for feeling wronged.
You are trapped because, though your heart constantly drips with pain, you have half-convinced yourself that your feelings are fake. You are trapped because, though you think your feelings are fake, this constant pain swells continuously, demanding to be acknowledged by those who have hurt you.
Here's the barrier, the obstacle you have to surmount: Your pain may never be acknowledged by those who have hurt you most.
Those who have hurt you might never acknowledge it.
Those who have wronged you may, for the rest of time, tell you they were right.
You have to accept that—and forgive them.
Again, forgiveness never excuses a wrong. Forgiveness by its very nature is saying that wrong was done, but it is not held against the wrongdoer.
You have to find the faces that blind your vision when you go searching for your heart, and you must forgive them.
Then, then, then you can be free. Then you can taste this new spark of energy. Then, when you search for your heart (battered as it is), you will find dusty, old dreams instead of fearful, angry voices.
When you can forgive all the voices and faces that have been trampling you, you sap their power. Your heart will still be battered, but it can no longer be trampled. When you forgive those who have hurt you (not excusing the wrongs but accepting and releasing them), the wrongs can't loom over you anymore. They're still irritating to be sure, but that's all the power they have left.
Then, then, then you can begin to heal. Then you can dust off your old dreams and evaluate them in peace. You may not keep all of them, but those that you do keep will burst forth in light.
They will burst forth in light because, instead of hearing the voices that told you they were wasted dreams, you will just listen to the dreams themselves and keep them or toss them.
You will pick up your battered heart—tenderly because it's still in pain—but you will see the world for what it is: filled with brokenness and filled with hope. You will see the other broken hearts, the battered dreams, the silent fears. You will see the other bright joys, the revived dreams, the glowing forgiveness.
And your heart will grow. Slowly, you'll have trouble remembering the deep cuts. Slowly, you'll have trouble remembering the voices and faces. Slowly, the voices and faces will transform into people whom you love. And these people whom you love may still say careless things, but we all do from time to time. And, now, these people are just people, no longer clamoring voices or irritated faces.
They are just people whom you forgive, whom you love.
And you are free.
I cannot tell the full extent of the matter, for it would make some people angsty. However, I can tell just enough.
Basically, the realization I had was that so much of my energy used to be locked up inside my expectations for or frustrations with other people. I used to think that things should be a certain way or at least that things should make sense.
Some wrongs have been done to me over the years, and, as happens with broken people, I contributed my own wrongs to the interactions. My wrongs and others' wrongs wove into one, big, confusing, hurtful lack of communication. The problem that kept this all going was thinking that the people who wronged me were right to do what they did or that I was wrong to expect things to be any different.
The realization was that I have been wronged, and—while it is never excusable—it is understandable. While I have done and continue to do plenty wrong, it is important to realize that I also have been wronged.
While I thought the wrong-doers were right or I was just wrong, I was locked inside an endless cycle of frustration, voicing my frustrations, being told my frustrations were unfounded, and trying once again to reason away my feelings. So much of my focus, my energy was lost inside these endless, coiling cycles.
Today when was I was envisioning this transition, I saw so much of my energy, so much of my heart locked away in glass containers of frustration and hurt, orbs of smoke and confusion.
 |
| Frustration and Hurt |
When I acknowledged that my feelings are legitimate and the doers were wrong, it wasn't released quite yet. I went through a process of forgiveness—not even in person, but I forgave the wrongdoers despite them, without them. Then, then, then these glass orbs of trapped life broke into a thousand beacons of passionate focus.
 |
| Passionate Focus |
Nevertheless, I want to impress upon you the possibility that you might have someone you need to forgive, even if they don't accept your forgiveness, even if they think they've done no wrong, even if they don't hear you or see how they've hurt you.
A way you can identify some of the people that have hurt you—some of the hurts inside which you've trapped your passion—is to think about your passions and identify the people who flood into your mind.
Think about what you want to do, what you sensibly desire deep in your heart. I'm not talking about tacky things like winning the lottery or owning a gold-plated mansion. I'm talking about the desires buried deep underneath your own fears and the guilt that others press on you.
Think about the passions you packed away into the vault of shame and self-defeat. Then look who's standing at that door. I bet you can easily imagine all the voices that have been telling you not to hope, not to consider a different life, not to try something new, not to attempt something you've dreamt of for as long as you can remember.
Imagine those voices, imagine those faces, and forgive them.
Think about it a different way: You still hope, you still dream, but quietly, silently almost. Whenever you whisper your dreams, these voices come clamoring in to tell you it's a worthless dream. Whenever you glance at the door to that vault, all the irritated-looking faces cover its surface. Whenever you touch the handle to that door, you can feel all the disappointment reverberating through it.
There was a time when you were soft and sensitive, healthy and hopeful. There was a time when they cut you deeply: the clamoring voices, the irritated faces, the disappointment. Now, there's some festering wound that you're told isn't there—or, if it is there, it's your fault.
So you hang onto the voices and faces, pleading with them to let you be heard, let you be free, or at least let you be healed. But again the voices say you are heard, you are free, and there's nothing wrong with you but your attitude.
But you still hang on, thinking they will change, thinking they will finally acknowledge your feelings if you scream loud enough long enough. At the end of the day, though, you just have a broken heart and a scarred voice.
So you learn to live with a broken heart because that seems normal, almost right. You live with a scarred voice because no one has ever heard you anyway. You live with the assumption that you should be broken from every angle by everyone that you know—especially by people that you love.
But you must forgive them.
When you were cut with kind words, when you were left bleeding by good intentions, you couldn't see that you were wronged, so you trapped yourself inside the paradox of feeling wrong for feeling wronged.
You are trapped because, though your heart constantly drips with pain, you have half-convinced yourself that your feelings are fake. You are trapped because, though you think your feelings are fake, this constant pain swells continuously, demanding to be acknowledged by those who have hurt you.
Here's the barrier, the obstacle you have to surmount: Your pain may never be acknowledged by those who have hurt you most.
Those who have hurt you might never acknowledge it.
Those who have wronged you may, for the rest of time, tell you they were right.
You have to accept that—and forgive them.
Again, forgiveness never excuses a wrong. Forgiveness by its very nature is saying that wrong was done, but it is not held against the wrongdoer.
You have to find the faces that blind your vision when you go searching for your heart, and you must forgive them.
Then, then, then you can be free. Then you can taste this new spark of energy. Then, when you search for your heart (battered as it is), you will find dusty, old dreams instead of fearful, angry voices.
When you can forgive all the voices and faces that have been trampling you, you sap their power. Your heart will still be battered, but it can no longer be trampled. When you forgive those who have hurt you (not excusing the wrongs but accepting and releasing them), the wrongs can't loom over you anymore. They're still irritating to be sure, but that's all the power they have left.
Then, then, then you can begin to heal. Then you can dust off your old dreams and evaluate them in peace. You may not keep all of them, but those that you do keep will burst forth in light.
They will burst forth in light because, instead of hearing the voices that told you they were wasted dreams, you will just listen to the dreams themselves and keep them or toss them.
You will pick up your battered heart—tenderly because it's still in pain—but you will see the world for what it is: filled with brokenness and filled with hope. You will see the other broken hearts, the battered dreams, the silent fears. You will see the other bright joys, the revived dreams, the glowing forgiveness.
And your heart will grow. Slowly, you'll have trouble remembering the deep cuts. Slowly, you'll have trouble remembering the voices and faces. Slowly, the voices and faces will transform into people whom you love. And these people whom you love may still say careless things, but we all do from time to time. And, now, these people are just people, no longer clamoring voices or irritated faces.
They are just people whom you forgive, whom you love.
And you are free.
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