Forgiveness for your own sake

Have you ever had someone do something so horrible that it could have very well ruined your life if there hadn't been people around you to step in and grab hold of you before it was too late? I'm talking about someone actually make a concerted effort to destroy you for nothing more that their own amusement or personal gratification. Someone literally robbing you of two years of your life. Knowing that you health was fragile and pushing you out of remission, to struggle between life and death for months.

So at some point, I'm supposed to forgive this person. Not because they deserve it or have done ANYTHING to make amends or even admitted they crossed a line. I'm supposed to forgive so I can let of all the anger and pain that I carry with me every day. I suppose I should want to let it go. That it is a kind of black hole of ugliness that swallows up my energy and my soul. But is it always wrong to hold onto these lessons as a reminder of what is really out that? To remind yourself that your expectations of what people are capable of are sometimes wholely naive? I wasn't sure evil existed in the forms that I've seen and yet, there it was!

I have a yoga teacher who tells us to focus inward to a small space in our hearts, that one spot that can never be touched by the outside world, can never be harmed, that is the home of all innocence and unconditional love. It is a place from which light emanates and that if we concentrate hard enough on it, the light can fill the darker spaces of our mind and soul. I always feel better when I leave his class. Not a big surprise, I suppose. It's in those times that I believe I am a big enough person to forgive for the sake of forgiveness, for the sake of inner peace.

But then the peace passes and I'm left with my culturally ingrained grudge. It's not that I need to blame someone. The whole point of a relapse is that it happens without provocation, without warning. Perhaps there's a part of me that feels like I haven't really dealt with the whole horrible experience, that I packed my bags (sold my house, loaded a moving van, made a dozen trips to Good Will) and ran away. My sister says it doesn't count as running away if you're running to something, like say, your big sister's guest room and a better job with better pay?

Does doing the right thing absolve you of some of this soul searching? I hope so. Everyone knows that you can either be right or you can be happy. I choose both.