My inspiration for writing this book comes from A Course in Miracles (see appendix). In 1982, I visited the Findhorn Foundation in Scotland to take part in their Experience Week programme, where I discovered the book A Course in Miracles displayed in the window of the Phoenix store at their Park site. I took it from the window, opened it at random and read a paragraph. I cannot remember what I read, but I do remember the almost electric effect of the words upon me.
Each day, after lunch, I would remove the book from the window and read another paragraph. I did this for two weeks before I had to return home to London. Missing my midday read, I decided to purchase the book and study its teachings on forgiveness.
My studies coincided with a time when my interest in healing was developing, after discovering – by accident – that I could sometimes help people by the laying on of hands. In my healing work and research, I discovered that the mind exerts a very powerful effect on the body. Although people were helped by the laying on of hands, I found their problems would often return unless they forgave the thoughts in their mind which led to the dis-ease. In time, I developed a healing approach (see chapter Five) to help clients look at the unforgiveness in their minds and let it be healed by spirit.
In 1980, I felt guided to resign from my work as an electronics lecturer and explore a different path in life. Visiting the Findhorn Foundation and doing some healing work in London was part of this new adventure. Whilst visiting the Foundation in 1984 to take part in a workshop, my partner and I felt a strong spontaneous impulse to become members. We returned to London, sold our house, and moved to Findhorn. For three years I directed the healing department at the Foundation’s Cluny Hill site. I went on to develop a two-week workshop entitled ‘Healing the Cause’, which I ran at the Foundation for some years. My background in teaching electronics in London was helpful, but I had to learn to be guided intuitively in my approach to teaching these workshops. This was a whole different arena, requiring a flexibility and openness never really required previously in my more technical role.
My study and practice of A Course in Miracles continued and deepened my knowledge of healing and the need to open myself to inner guidance. In my younger years, I had believed I could happily plan what I wanted from life and did not need anyone's help thank you! However, as my life progressed, it became clear that without a willing surrender to an inner guidance there was no chance I would discover the inner peace I sought.
My deepening interest in the Course and my experiences from the workshops led me to write a book (Healing the Cause: A Path of Forgiveness) and also resulted in my running even more workshops – both at the Findhorn Foundation and elsewhere. And of course, it has also now led to the writing of this book.
The path of forgiveness can be practised every day, for life presents us all with endless opportunities; it invites us to stop seeing the world as the source of our pain and encourages us to bring a non-judgemental awareness to the contents of our own mind – the only place where healing can occur. As we surrender our pain to the healing power of spirit, we gradually remove the veils we have created between our physical selves and our spiritual reality: a state of inner peace and joy that is not dependent on anything in the world.
In this book, I set out the steps required to take on this journey of forgiveness. I invite you to join me on this path to peace.
∞
Chapter 1 - Who Do We Forgive?
Perhaps it will be helpful to remember that no one can be angry at a fact. It is always an interpretation that gives rise to negative emotions, regardless of their seeming justification by what appears as facts.
A Course in Miracles M-17.4
(See Appendix One for an explanation of page and line references to A Course in Miracles.)
Forgiveness of Ourselves or Others?
Who needs to be forgiven? This is a fundamental question. Many of us believe we need to strive to forgive the wrongs that seem to have been done to us. We feel victimised by the seemingly unfair actions of others and believe our anger towards them is justified. But is it always the others who need to be forgiven, or could it maybe be ourselves? Do we have to remain victims or is there another way?
The personal tension created by holding grievances against another is unpleasant. We may feel we are in the right, but at great personal cost to our own peace of mind. To alleviate such tension we might choose to 'forgive’ the other person; although in our opinion they have committed a wrong, we decide to overlook it. We would, however, love to hear them apologise, proving their guilt and our innocence. But an apology may not be forthcoming; indeed the person with whom we hold our grievance may now have died.
We tell our friends we have forgiven our enemy; we are prepared to forget and get on with life. But have we really returned our mind to a state of peace, or is there lurking an ongoing disquiet about this episode? Do we carry on and forget the incident only to find that past pain is still there just waiting to be triggered by events similar to the one we have just ‘forgiven’? Has our forgiveness worked? Has the willingness to put all this behind us and to overlook the sins of the other actually resolved anything?
Our cultural and religious upbringing generally decrees what is right and what is wrong behaviour. If someone acts towards us with 'wrong' behaviour, we are usually taught that our anger is justified; the other person should apologise and change his or her behaviour. If they conform to our expectations, we are then open to ‘forgiving’ them, but not otherwise.
The quotation at the start of this chapter reminds us that we never get angry over a fact: it’s our interpretation of the fact that can give rise to anger. Forgiveness tells us we can always choose our reaction to any situation.
Consider the following story:
Imagine you are at a party with three friends. Let’s call them John, Peter, and Mary. The topic of conversation gets around to a recent news story about the rise in obesity in the United Kingdom population and its effect on the National Health Service. It was clear from the article that diseases related to obesity were costing the NHS millions of pounds each year. The writer of the article felt it was unfair how the sector of the population that was not obese had to carry the financial penalty for those who are. One of his suggestions was that the obese should pay a contribution towards their treatment if they suffered from an obesity-related illness.
John, who is somewhat overweight, feels this is an outrageous suggestion, clearly lacking in compassion for the plight of the obese. Peter, who keeps trim with regular workouts in the gym, thinks it an excellent suggestion; he is happy this issue has been raised in the national press, feeling it is high time something is done about it. This obvious clash of opinions soon provokes fierce discussion between the two men. Mary has stood by, quietly listening. Although being a bit overweight herself, she cannot muster any interest in this debate; her mind is more focused on the evening ahead.
In the above story, we can see how one event or stimulus – in this case the newspaper report – produced three entirely different responses. John was angry, Peter happy, and Mary indifferent. Each person chose his or her own response to the facts in the article.
No stimulus has any inherent power to create a certain response in all people. We ourselves always choose how we react in any given situation; there is nothing in this world that has the power to take our peace away. Yes, certain events can lead us to experience physical pain, but even in these events it is our personal choice whether to get upset about it or not.
I remember watching a dramatised documentary about a white fur trapper working within the Arctic Circle who became good friends with an Eskimo family. This Eskimo tribe had a particular custom, which was to share everything they possessed (including their wives) with close friends. One day the husband announced to the fur trapper that he would be very happy if he were to sleep with his wife. He added that it would also make his wife very happy; this was not a custom imposed upon