Transformation and Self-Forgiveness

"You cannot forgive yourself until you commit yourself to personal change."  Forgiving Yourself by Beverly Flannigan

Both books written by Beverly Flannigan, Forgiving the Unforgivable and Forgiving Yourself, are two of the most helpful books I've encountered on this pithy subject.
Not only does the author assist the reader in identifying the possible wrong doings, harm and hurt they perpetrate to others, but she offers her readers a critical self assessment to engage in the journey back from ill by those same wrong doers.
In another tradition, one would say that the self-forgiven as Flannigan describes it are those who have taken the hard step of self inquiry and recognized themselves in truth; they wake up to what they do.

We all experience moments of bad, terrible, even perilous judgments that result in harm, sometimes irreparable harm to others. And we may be the cause, the prime element, of that harm. Now some suffer, some may even be dead.
Can we forgive our self for what we do wrong? Accidentally, unintentional or not, the harm is there and cannot be easily removed or retracted. For those who succeed and move on in their lives, change, vast changes are necessary.
Transformation is the name of one of the final chapters of Flannigan's book, Forgiving Yourself.

"Transformation is the subject of countless novels, treatises, movies and textbooks. In a sense, philosophy, psychology and theology all address the essential nature of human beings, and how or if a human being can change fundamentally.
She writes that when people are transformed, they change in a most fundamental way; they in a sense, recreate themselves. Some feel re-born, a newness that their now long struggled for clarity now brings to their daily life.
When one forgives others, one engages in a process that finally admits light to one's own life: now able to see other's limits, weaknesses and faults, they move from unawareness to clarity regarding injury inflicted by others:
 "incorporating that injury into his life" story and no longer blaming nor considering oneself injured; changed--one who is blinded by emotions, wishes and desires to one who now sees the world as it is; they accept change, and a number of its alternate scenarios.

Though similar, self-forgiveness is different in that one struggles with one's own mistakes, faults and weaknesses, gains insight and clarity of one's real, true nature and motives; realizing that everyone is flawed or weak in some way, all exist despite being in a perpetual state of imperfection.
Feeling a guilt which holds one in a recurring pattern, as if imprisoned to face their actions over and over again, genuine self-forgiveness produces someone who no longer hates, feels ashamed or guilty about them self because they now use the self knowledge gained through transformation to set their new course in life. Some who were not spiritually aware of their essential inter-connectedness to others becomes one who now recognizes their essential spiritual interconnectedness to others and to their community.
In any case, transformation requires a relentless, intensive search for truth in all situations, "a continuing undiluted confrontation with truth." It is finally by this means alone that one may forgive them self.

The result of this forgiveness may be a partial or complete re-working of one's values and priorities; what one once believed,  spent time, engaged, valued, ones' associates may all come under scrutiny as the natural course of the transforming process.
For the one who under takes such a task, a new vitality and joy is rightly his reward. Now 'older and wiser,' a person invariably reunites with his human, spiritual community through use of effective, appropriate coping strategies which do no further harm to himself or others; by transforming his life's basic assumptions, by engaging in purification rituals one reconnects with other people, and spiritual activities. Flannigan paraphrased, p. 149

Flannigan further identifies five significant coping strategies often used to reduce life stresses, most of which while potentially beneficial may also be used in a weapon-like way for harm.
Apologies and confessions may at first notice seem quite similar, they have a fundamental difference: apologies are the glue that reconnects most things in life. But they also have the effect giving the authority of acceptance or rejection to another. For this reason, many people refuse to apologize for their mistakes.
They are willing to engage in harm and walk away rather than face another's scathing recriminations or outright rejection.

On the other hand confessions "allows another person to see one's deepest flaws." An apology acknowledges flaws to people who already know about them.
A confession bares one's limitations; it's  in the spirit of forgiving, part of the way to transformation, thus apologies are a necessary first step.
Taking the risk that the offended may not receive our words or gestures well, we do it anyway with the hope of reconnecting. Humility then is at the core of apologies, a recognition of our basic lack of perfection, our clumsy, faulted ways. Apologies "whether directed at another or spoken to a surrogate, open communication" with primarily one's self and potentially with others is the way to transformation.

Imagination, An Ability of the Heart

"I love you with all my heart." --by the many, the millions who have said and felt so.  And J. Hillman, author of the Force of Character

Reading the book, The Force of Character by James Hillman carefully, one stumbles upon many great and grand insights. It may take a few reads to grasp its themes. "Character used to be spoken of in terms of 'the of heart courage,' or the 'heart of generosity and loyalty.' " It is this heart which Hillman wants to address. He says this is also the heart that consoles the weary, that cooks a meal and shares its comforts with others, and delights in laughter. But there is a second heart, he says, that is even more familiar. It is the romantic heart of flowers and sweets; we 'give our heart away,'  'we are broken-hearted.'

And  Hillman writes of still another, a third heart. This heart is the one observed and practiced by early "great Christian writers, especially  Saint Augustine." This third heart is the one of inmost feeling, of true character. It is the me-mine, the closet of intimacy, an inward dwelling place." Because this heart is so deep and so private, "Augustine often refers to it as an abyss." Writers over time have elaborated upon this heart, calling it also 'the sacred heart.' Many practice devotions to realize and awaken this deepest heart. "The Sacred Heart is the heart of compassionate mysticism; it sets out a discipline of love parallel with the path" of Bhakti yoga, a part of Hindu tradition; it sets its path likewise with Jewish mystic tradition, the Kabbalah, Binah a mothering, discriminating intelligence-heart, leading one into an expanding character with regard to charity, compassion and mercy.

The "oldest heart of all, is the Egyptian Ptah, who created the world from the imagination of his heart! While the more recent Christian bible dares to state that the world was created by the Logos, the word which was with God, Ptah states "the same idea, except that for ancient Egypt, the words start out from the heart and express its imaginative power. The world was first imagined, then declared." Imagination, the 'ability to see things as images, is an ability of the heart, according to Arabic philosopher, Ibn Arabi." The images that we carry about in our reverie, in our dreams, in our deepest waking hearts become vividly real to the aware, awake heart. "Otherwise we assume them to be inventions, projections, and fantasies," Hillman writes.

This "imagining heart converts such indefinables as soul, depth, dignity, love and beauty-- as well as character and the idea of 'heart' itself into felt actualities, the very essence of life." Without it we only have a bio-mechanical pump to keep us going. And many of us do, when the occasion warrants, write to another, "I love you with all my heart."