The Magic of Forgiveness

Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself.
— Suzanne Somers

Back in the early 80s when my meditation practice was in its infancy, one of my everyday carry essentials was an inspiring book entitled Who Dies? by Stephen Levine. (1982, Anchor Press/Doubleday)

Who Dies? describes with powerful candor the author’s personal transformation through insight meditation from troubled youth to deeply caring hospice worker and Dharma teacher. His skill in working with the dying was fully on display in his raw, touching accounts of facing death on a daily basis with the people he helped.

Subject to the oddball self-absorption of a novice meditator, I secretly prayed that if I were ever struck down by a terminal illness, I’d be able to reach out to Stephen Levine for guidance in navigating such a daunting ordeal.

Decades later in 2013, I learned that Stephen himself was seriously ill. He had spent many years working with his beautiful wife Ondrea, who suffered from life-threatening cancer. I felt fortunate to be in touch with them briefly during this time to express my gratitude for their work, and over the following year to enjoy the couple’s intimate, deeply informative Couch Talks on death, dying, and a key component of Stephen’s teaching: forgiveness.

Stephen Levine died on January 17, 2016, and it came as a great surprise to me that Stephen passed away before his ailing partner of more than 25 years. After all, it was he who’d been taking care of her, or so it seemed. The title Who Dies? took on a new poignancy now that the author himself had died. Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that henceforth, when my number did come up, I’d be on my own.

Fast forward to 2022, as the COVID pandemic was winding down. My best friend here in Tokyo had recently died of glioblastoma, and I was deep into my own meditation practice, grappling with the sad knowledge that my buddy and I wouldn’t be growing old together. I’d been searching for a new path of practice ever since making the difficult decision in 2014 to leave the Vajrayana Buddhist group I’d helped build over the previous two decades. After several years working in the Pragmatic Dharma scene with teachers like Daniel Ingram, Shannon Stein, and Culadasa, I had decided to focus on TWIM (Tranquil Wisdom Insight Meditation), or what I like to call the “Brahma Viharas plus” method, developed by the American Buddhist monk Bhante Vimalaramsi.

The Brahma Viharas or “divine abidings” are a progression of beautiful states of heart/mind, cultivated to evoke kindness, compassion, empathetic joy, and equipoise in that order. TWIM takes it a step further by leading the practitioner into refined experiences such as quiet mind, the signless, and stages of Nibbana or awakening accompanied by cessations: watershed events known to result in deep satisfaction and permanent personality changes for the better.

Working with this practice felt like the culmination of my 45 years of meditation in diverse Buddhist and other traditions. The glowing personal qualities of advanced TWIM practitioners such as Syl Zuhorn, Khin Maw, David Johnson, and Delson Armstrong prompted the iconic When Harry Met Sally reaction: “I’ll have what they’re having,” and I threw myself into the TWIM practice with delight and dedication.

Finding forgiveness

This is where the forgiveness comes in. When I first attempted TWIM (despite my previous successes with metta meditation), I had difficulty sustaining feelings of the loving kindness that constitutes the core of the practice. In TWIM this is a fairly common issue, and the prescribed remedy is to spend a couple of days (or as long as it takes) doing “forgiveness practice” to unfreeze the being and remove the obstacles to a tender heart.

Forgiveness meditation as developed by Bhante is uncomplicated and somewhat counterintuitive: one simply repeats to oneself, “I forgive myself for not understanding,” and waits to see what happens. Usually what happens is that painful memories begin to bubble up. Generating the wish for feelings of forgiveness to come to the rescue, one sits or walks, quietly observing until the heart of forgiveness makes its presence known.

Forgiveness did not come to me easily. I suffered through hours and hours of boredom, and began to wonder if I was wasting my time. Then on the second day, memories started to emerge one by one, beginning with events and situations that had been especially painful for me. At first I was unable to feel anything but resentment. Then I remembered to apply the instructions: “I forgive myself for not understanding.”

The beauty of this phrase is that it takes no sides, assigns no blame, and offers no conclusions. It simply receives the current situation with a kind, pliable intention. As I worked the practice, these painful memories began to appear in a new, kinder light. This had nothing to do with the perceived right or wrong of the events or the people involved. It was more an experience of recalled scenes or tableaus percolating up like bubbles in the mind, being seen with the kindheartedness of a mother welcoming her children home.

I had some very profound experiences. These were cathartic and deeply emotional, and afterward I found myself unable to feel resentment toward anyone including myself or those I felt had hurt me the most. This was temporary, but since that time I’ve found by stages that anger and resentment respond very quickly to this type of forgiveness—a forgiveness that doesn’t set up dualistic blame dynamics but radiates in one’s own heart as a state of grace that naturally heals.

As the practice unfolded, I encountered all the usual suspects (my least favorite memories, which arose in bubbles of light in a field of loving forgiveness), and the heart eagerly welcomed all the most cringe-worthy moments and their participants, embracing each one in spontaneously arising joy and acceptance. This occurred irrespective of whether I had thought of myself as victim or perpetrator in those scenarios. It’s as if the heart of forgiveness is eager to welcome home all these rejected parts of oneself that had been buried or deemed unacceptable by the subconscious, to reintegrate the flow of joy and peace, recapturing a sense of wholeness that those past traumas and unfortunate actions had blocked.

This process was so successful that I decided to explore the forgiveness meditation as a stand-alone practice. Once, Bhante Vimalaramsi spent two years working exclusively with forgiveness—and with good reason, I have come to appreciate.

The mechanics of resentment

After I completed some pivotal retreat work with forgiveness, I experienced a powerful opening while listening to Delson Armstrong read from his remarkable Dependent Origination book series (2022, independently published). Delson points out in his Being (Bhava) volume that resentment is closely linked to doubt, a connection that had never once occurred to me. The words resentment and doubt triggered fresh, subtle layers of those emotions that I then worked through with forgiveness. Through constant repetition, I now found the practice increasingly effective and easy to apply (as when an airplane accelerates during takeoff, "the faster you go, the faster you go faster").

For serious meditators, I heartily recommend the entire section on Upanaha or resentment starting on page 44 of Delson’s Bhava book. This passage was key for me: "...the unpleasant experience of past abuses by loved ones, the betrayal of friends, or even being hurt by a group of people in society results in the mind shattering into self-doubt, self-criticism, and self hatred. These become the stem for outward doubt and mistrust, critical behavior and outward hatred. ...The defilement of resentment feeds the underlying tendency of doubt more than the others...which can manifest as doubt in one's own abilities, in the practice, in the Path, and in the Dhamma (teaching).”

Hearing the words "the mind shattering into self-doubt" a whole new level of resentment was instantly liberated in me, along with all kinds of uncharitable views about myself and others. This in turn dissolved a powerful impediment to awakening stemming from resentment and doubt: the belief that enlightenment simply wasn’t possible for someone like me. Having shed that mistaken belief, it became possible.

A delayed benefit from the forgiveness practice also arose during an online retreat with Delson later that year. I was steeping in the empathetic joy or mudita practice, and that particular day I felt spontaneously happy for people I saw engaged in various activities during my meditation walks. Like a proud parent, I found myself overjoyed at seeing a happy couple trading loving glances, a young bullet train driver standing proudly at his controls, or a quirky middle-aged punk sporting an impressive leather jacket. Everywhere I looked, there was a reason to feel happy for someone. That didn’t prepare me for what happened during my next formal sitting session, however.

As soon as I sat down and closed my eyes, the same "bubbles" of people and scenarios that I'd processed in the forgiveness practice now reemerged of their own accord. The old familiar tableaus presented in the same sequences as before—especially the most challenging ones. I thought to myself, "Aren't we done?" to which the mudita-filled mind replied, "No, you're just getting started." Then the focus switched to the positive outcomes of those situations as perceived by each of those individuals. Unexpectedly, my mind filled with delight.

Even those people from my past whose successes were clearly gained at my expense now became the spontaneous objects of celebration on my part: "You earned your success,” I thought. “It cost you a lot—it cost you me. But look at you now, how you are manifesting in the way you wished for yourself. Good for you." I was so happy for them. I couldn’t help myself!

If you knew my history and how much I resented certain people in my past for hurts both real and perceived, you would truly appreciate what a miracle this wholehearted embracing of their success represented for me. This shift continues to enrich my life, even though I may never talk to those people again as I wish to avoid rekindling fruitless, unhealthy dynamics.

Forgiveness doesn’t right a wrong! It simply liberates us from the need to dwell on old hurts, and leads to freedom from being defined by regrettable decisions, oppressive patterns or past abuses. “Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself.”

Coming full circle

When I first started TWIM, I shied away from the forgiveness practice, viewing it as a kind of demotion for failing at the meditation proper. Now I see it as a superb and shining gift in its own right, and forgiveness meditation constitutes a substantial part of my daily practice.

Recently I learned that the forgiveness practice of Bhante Vimalaramsi (who himself passed away in 2023) was originally inspired by a section on forgiveness in Who Dies? by Stephen Levine. So my practice has come full circle, and for that I am deeply grateful.

Stephen Levine died before me. With the forgiveness meditation he inspired, his guidance and teaching will always live on in my heart, bringing me that much closer to embracing my mortality with something resembling grace or poise. At least, it is helping me to live my life that way—and hopefully, to share the gift with others.