She always had a fondness for the concept of forgiveness… so noble an act it always appeared. She always admired those who seemed to take to it so easily, as if it were a part of their nature, inherent. Having been raised in a religious family, forgiveness was striven for, expected. But it was a rare occasion when she actually felt the real thing. Most often her examples of forgiveness were feigned attempts shrouded in vanity. “If it makes you look good, do it!” Seemed to be the motto. It all felt so empty. Not at all like TV forgiveness where emotion ran to the depths of the soul and hearts openly sang. But she knew that was not real either. They were actors after all, following a script… much it seemed like her own actual life. She wondered though how much TV forgiveness mimics real-life forgiveness. Is that what it looked like, felt… it wasn’t until she was 18 that she had the opportunity to try it out for real, when her uncle came to her begging forgiveness for touching her as a child. She leapt at the opportunity to practice the elusive act of forgiveness even though she barely remembered the act in question. Apparently, he got weird at the showers one summer at the family beach house. He confessed every sordid detail, it seemed like a good story but she felt nothing. “I forgive you uncle.” She said. He wept with his redemption showering her with gratitude. But inside she was empty. Wasn’t this supposed to feel good? Feel like something… anything? He sure seemed to be feeling it… it was almost unreal, kind of like TV forgiveness… was he faking it, too? Interesting. It’s almost like faking an orgasm because you don’t want to hurt the other person’s feelings or make them feel like they suck at sex. I clearly suck at forgiveness, is it fair to my uncle to fake it? I mean, he took a big risk coming to me, confessing his sin. I always thought faking an orgasm was stupid because no one really wins in the situation… one person thinks they have succeeded in giving you pleasure and the other receives no pleasure because they don’t feel they deserve it. Yuck. How is this any different?
“Um, uncle?” She had to say it a few times to get through his weeping.
“Uncle?” She said more forcefully.
“Yes?” He replied.“
“I’m not sure how to say this but…” his face seized with panic. Was his absolution fading?
“What? Tell me what?” He asked, his voice sounding a bit crazed.
“I don’t remember.” She said flatly.
“What you were going to say?” He replied, confused.
“No. I don’t remember it. What you say you did to me. I don’t remember it.” She explained.
“Oh. But you still forgive me, right?” He asked, voice desperate.
“Well, yeah I… I guess, but can I really? Forgive you that is for something I don’t even remember?” She stammered.
“Well, you said you did… so.” He replied defensively.
“I know, I’m sorry. I was just really taken aback by your revelation. I guess I didn’t know how to react.” She added, her voice apologetic.
“Oh, well okay then.” Her uncle replied, head hanging, dejected.
“I mean, if I remembered, I would like to think that I’d forgive you.” She said trying to make her voice bright and cheery.
“Do you want me to tell you again?” He asked tentatively.
“No! No. I don’t want you to tell me again.” She interjected a bit too forcefully.
“Well what do you want?” Her uncle’s voice beginning to reflect annoyance.
“I want to feel something.” Her voice trailed off, quiet.
“What?” He asked.
“I don’t know… it just seems like I should feel something in my heart but I don’t.”

It was years before another opportunity presented itself. She almost missed it because well it didn’t really involve another person. She was confused when the emotions began to surface. What is this about? She thought one day as she boiled with a rage she didn’t even know she held. I don’t understand why I’m feeling this. She thought. Happily married, her husband walked on eggshells day and night never certain of her emotional forecast. Moodiness was never one of her traits but lately it seemed to be her only.

“Is it something I did or didn’t do?” Her husband asked eager to quell the seas.
“No. I mean, I don’t know. I’m sorry. Please don’t take any of this personally, I really don’t think this is about you.” She tried to sound reassuring.
“You sure?” He asked.
“No.” She answered flatly.
“Great” he mumbled and went outside.

She went out to the sun porch off the back of their house. She always felt at peace there, perhaps that would help. Stillness soon settled in as she sat allowing the suns warming rays to melt away her angst. She loved her husband, it couldn’t be him could it? She wondered, her thoughts quiet but pressing. Deep inhale, exhale. As she sat, she felt her breath begin to expand, it felt as though her whole body was expanding. Focusing on her breath she allowed herself this expansion and slowly felt her body filling with a sense of peace. That was the only way she could describe it. It felt nice. Different definitely from the past few weeks, that was for certain. As she melted into this new feeling she noticed that her cheeks ached. Why? It was an unusual sensation then she realized that she was smiling. Really smiling, so wide that it was fatiguing her facial muscles. Wow. As she sat smiling, basking in peace the idea of forgiveness seeped into her awareness. Who do I have to forgive? She asked herself, my uncle? My husband? Who? I don’t understand, I don’t see it. Suddenly a gentle loving voice reached out into her awareness.

“It is not for you to see, but to feel.” The voice suggested.

“Feel? That’s just it, I don’t feel it, I don’t feel anything!” Her energy beginning to rile. She felt another wave of peace wash through her and she surrendered to it. Tears begin to prick at the back of her eyes, her throat constricting slightly. “Feel” the benevolent voice coaxed from the ether. With the last mandate the tears broke free and she openly wept. Crying like she was 5 years old again. She allowed the tears to flow, her body racking with sobs that felt ancient yet so familiar. As the tears began to slow she felt a new sensation. It felt as if her heart was being pulled in two. It ached and burned as she sensed into it. It was an odd sensation for her but she felt that she could actually see it, her heart releasing the tears that flowed from her eyes. It look like ice melting.

Then she saw it.

There, standing inside of her heart, a child shivering and cold. She looked very sad. Her emotions reached out to the child whom she did not recognize. “Who are you? Why are you sad?” She asked the little girl. The child still partially frozen just stared at her disbelief on her face. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” She cooed trying to help the child feel at ease. The child gave her an incredulous stare, one that seemed to say “yeah, right.” She was taken aback by this seeming rejection. “What? Have I hurt you?” The child looked down to avert her gaze and turned her head away. New tears began welling up from her heart so personal so real. Who is this child? She thought.

“Look closer” whispered the benevolent voice “feel her.”

She took a deep breath in order to center and allowed herself to sense more deeply into this child. As she did the child turned to her, face surprised, eyes wide. She gasped as she heard the words which seemingly floated from the child’s mind hers.

“I am you.”

She focused more acutely onto the child’s face and that’s when recognition dawned. The resemblance, it was there. She hadn’t thought of herself at that age for so long she had forgotten what she looked like. “Me?” She whispered almost vacantly. “You are me?” Turned into “you’re me!” Oh my. “You are me!” She repeated again. As she allowed the reality of this discovery to wash through her body and fully register in her mind, the child waited. “Are you ready now?” The child asked.
“Ready? For what?”
Hands on hips the child repeated herself “are you ready… for me?”

She didn’t know quite what to say to that, what exactly did that mean? What would it mean for her, for them? What secrets did this child hold and was she ready to know them? She was not sure. She sat and felt fear ripple through her body, her mind racing to come up with hundreds of reasons why she should absolutely not do this. While in her heart, all she wanted to do was surrender. Surrender to the voice, to the child, to all of it. As her heart’s gentle persuasion begin to override her mind another wave of peace filled her. Love overflowing from her filled the sun porch.

“I am ready for you little one.” She said aloud.

The energies began swirling within her as the child, now fully thawed walked into her now open and energized heart. Sparks of gold crackled around her as she felt the child’s energies re-integrate. Her body shuddered as memories began to surface. Things she had not thought of in years swirled into her consciousness. Through everything she felt the love and support around her, the benevolent voice ever-present. She felt no fear now as the swirling energies slowed.

“You will now begin to integrate the memories and wisdom held by this part of yourself. Do not worry, it will happen over time as you become ready for them.” The voice assured. She felt herself relax, she had been worried about being flooded.

Thoughts of her uncle came to the fore, she simply watched, detached yet fully engaged. Understanding coursed through her as more scenes unfolded. Series of events unfolding like mini dramas on the television. Seeing each character playing its role. Sometimes I am the good one, sometimes I am the bad one she mused. “Feel deeper” the voice coaxed. “Step out a little farther, feel yourself with me.” The voice suggested. Oh, that would be nice she thought, I would love that! To be sitting with the Being attached to the voice, the voice that exuded pure love. She allowed herself to still even deeper going inward until she felt the benevolent presence near her, with her, Oh! Inside of her. She found her cheeks aching again. Yes, smiling. Once she settled into this new place of grounding she viewed the scenes again.

As she witnessed she saw that it was not at all about good and bad but about teacher and student, student and teacher… she was able to see the cords which she sensed to be soul contracts between the players.

For the first time she saw choice. And with that she felt freedom.

All of her ideas of how the world worked began spinning out of control. Her mind started scrambling trying to regain control attempting to rein in the liberating mind. But it was too late for that.

She had witnessed truth.

The vast truth of this life, that there is no good or bad, only lessons. And if there is no bad… what is there to forgive? She began to spiral down as her mind made one last attempt using its favorite tool, guilt. It’s projected thought… “I was a stupid not see this sooner… I’m so stupid!” As she rallied against this she saw the little girl, face darkened with shame. Sensing into her once again she reached out to her and said “no, we are not stupid, we are right on time!”

She had seized her golden opportunity just as she had planned it. As Source knows no time but the present. There is no wrong, only opportunities to heal and to remember.

March 22, 2012

Perhaps what is needed is a re-definition of forgiveness. From viewing some person or an act of some person as grievous and wrong to one of service.

At our source level we have all made agreements with one another in order to advance our wisdom and our remembrance of who we are. We come here to 3-D for soul school–training for our spirits… and we are all students, we are all teachers.

The lessons we share with one another are varied. Some filled with light and beauty–the ones that feel really great and uplift us. These are the lessons we love to receive for we perceive them as “good” because of how they make us feel. Then there are the lessons which challenge us greatly. These lessons often “hurt” and feel wounding or damaging to us somehow and they can run the spectrum from someone telling you you are ugly or stupid to being raped as examples. We perceive these lessons as “bad” because that is generally how we feel receiving them and this is reinforced by a society that fears pain of any sort.

When we receive these sorts of lessons we also perceive the teacher of the lesson as bad or evil.

But are they really?

If we can take a huge step back and view the situation from a broader perspective sitting with our higher selves, we can see the profound love and service in this act. How much pain do you think the victimizer feels in honoring the soul contract with you? They are the molester, rapist, bully, general ass hole in a society that abhors the dark. They have CHOSEN to play that role FOR YOU. Chosen it, to SERVE you because they love and honor you beyond measure.

Breathe. I know that this can be a difficult stance to take in, to hear.

But it really changes everything because forgiveness revolves around wrong-doing.

“I forgive you for serving me and loving me so deeply that you have sacrificed this focus to become the darkest of the dark for me.”

Doesn’t sound right does it? Not to say that your teacher in this scenario literally sacrifices this focus, we learn as much about ourselves from embodying the collective darkness. In all cases Source is served.

So what is there to forgive? Besides ourselves. Our own fear and lack of understanding. Our own inability to appreciate the service being given to us. Our forgetting. This is where forgiveness needs to be. And it’s companion is gratitude.

To all beings in my world whom I have perceived to be hurting me… Thank you. Thank you for loving me, for serving me, for honoring me, for guiding me closer to Source, to true authentic remembrance. Thank you and I release you from our contract with love.

There is no right or wrong; good or bad in this world. There is only Source and Source simply Is.



About Maria Falce

Maria is a spiritual writer and a self-love warrior with a deep and diverse background in both the culinary and healing arts. She is most passionate about guiding people to connect with their inner voice, a midwife to the joyful birth of inherent authentic creativity that lives within us all.
This entry was posted in Parables and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s