Apology and regret have been on my mind the last few months. Partly a result of noodling on aging and taking stock, partly because of an incident that happened earlier this year. Without too much detail so the guilty are protected, I was in a meeting during which one person said something intended as a joke, but it was stupid and insensitive and offended most of us who were there. It was a “did they really just say that?!” moment. Once called out, the offender wanted to decide if their behavior was really hurtful, despite having been told as much. After a couple of weeks, they had not apologized, lost their credibility with this group, and were asked to leave.
I have talked to a handful of people about this. One whose age, gender, and race are about the same as the offender’s said that if the intent wasn’t malicious, they have nothing to apologize for. So if we make a mistake or hurt is collateral damage, no apology required – only intentional acts require an apology? I call BS on that. Intentional hurtful acts may be worse than ignorant ones, and we’re accountable for both.
As part of processing that meeting and its aftermath, and my own stock-taking, I’ve also been thinking about the times I’ve said hurtful things. I am a frequent flier in the land of apology, though my hurtful words are almost always the result of not thinking before I open my mouth – stupid mistakes, not malicious intention. The few times I’ve intentionally said something nasty, mostly when I was a snotty teenager, have stayed with me for decades.
When I was working through forgiveness some years ago, I decided – based on Desmond Tutu’s writings about the Truth and Reconciliation commissions in South Africa — that before I could move on, I needed to see remorse from the person who wronged me. Why should I forgive someone who doesn’t understand or feel regret for hurting me? I disagree with the idea that forgiveness would set me free. I am capable of living with unforgiven hurts. On the contrary, it felt like I was releasing the other person from accountability. I was granting them freedom, not myself. But we don’t always get closure or hear remorse from those who’ve hurt us, and some of those hurts take root like rank and sturdy weeds.
As a fan of ritual and a bit of a chicken, I developed a plan earlier this year to apologize and ask for cosmic forgiveness for several stupid things I’ve said or done to people so I don’t have to send them Facebook messages reminding them of my transgressions. The kid I insulted in 1978 has probably forgotten, but I had not yet forgiven myself. I’ve got remorse to burn. I’ve owned m s**t and then some. It was time to kick my own butt and then forgive myself. And I needed to spray the RoundUp of forgiveness on those rank and sturdy weeds of old hurts.
Sunset from my room at New Camaldoli
I process things by writing. It helps me organize my thoughts and sometimes call BS on myself. I knew writing would need to be part of a forgiveness plan. Since my ability to focus for sustained periods is impeded by external distractions, I would need to be away from home, electronics, people, dogs, grocery stores, cleaning supplies, chocolate, and garden tools. But then what? I didn’t want to just write down all the garbage I’ve carried for decades and toss it in a drawer. I needed more closure. I flirted with the idea of a wailing wall in my yard, into which I would put little notes of forgiveness and apology, but I didn’t want to be constantly in the presence of my inner landfill. I decided Step 2 would be to literally leave my junk behind, to keep the notes somewhere I was unlikely to return to.
A few years ago I heard a Pico Iyer interview in which he talked about a monastery south of Big Sur, California, and the peace he found there. The monks host people in silent retreat and provide their meals and a simple dorm room. There is no internet or cell service, no programs to attend other than optional religious services, no chit chat or socializing. Perfect for sorting through all my junk, getting it on paper, and leaving it behind me.
So in March I spent five days on a silent retreat at the New Camaldoli Benedictine monastery. I dredged up old hurts I’ve experienced and perpetrated and wrote out my apologies and notes of forgiveness on small slips of paper. By the last full day, I’d had enough of being in my head, processing old garbage and beating myself up, so I put on my earbuds and my Attitude Adjustment music playlist and danced it out. Then I walked to the edge of a cliff with a view of the ocean, lifted up a rock, and left my slips of paper under it. I left the next morning, considerably lighter.
I spent another five days wandering around a favorite spot, Point Reyes, looking for whales and watching the tides. No heavy stuff, just walks and books and takeout food. A good visit with an old friend and good conversation with a new one.
This is the trail on Point Reyes where I met Joe. Copyright Joe Cressman.
Now more than three months later, those regrettable comments sometimes pop back up, and I remind myself that I have shown remorse, asked for forgiveness, and I show myself some grace. Maybe some of those who hurt me are in the same place and have asked for cosmic forgiveness. I forgave them too, as much as I could.
As a blog that is in theory about places and how they affect us, I will loop this back to the intersection of places and our psyches. Could I have done this emotional dumping in my living room? With better discipline, of course. But there was nothing demanding or distracting about the monastery, so I could focus on the challenge of the task I needed to do, and several days of undemanding recovery time in a beautiful place helped me transition back to my real day-to-day world.
Bonus Material
A “rank and sturdy weed” is taken from a Barbara Holland quote:
“Gloom we have always with us, a rank and sturdy weed, but joy requires tending.”
Photo by Joe Cressman
Top eleven dance-it-out tunes from the Attitude Adjustment playlist, in no particular order. Click on the song title for your own dance party.
Uptown Funk (Mark Ronson
Love Shack (B-52s)
Only the Good Die Young (Billy Joel)
Sing a Song (Earth, Wind and Fire)
ABC (Jackson 5)
Testify (Davie)
Good as Hell (Lizzo)
Music for a Sushi Restaurant (Harry Styles)
Hallelujah (Sweet Water Warblers)
Como Se Baila (The Latin Mambo Orchestra)
Lebanese Blonde (Thievery Corporation)
I made a new friend in Point Reyes. A fellow solo traveler, Joe, and I struck up a conversation on a trail and have stayed in touch by email. Joe takes lovely photos and permitted me use a couple from his trip to Point Reyes for this post. Thank you, Joe! You can see more of his work on his Instagram page.
#NewCamaldoli