Forgive
and Forget
4/20/8
I remember at a friend’s
wedding shower, years ago, we were asked to share some advice to the Newlyweds
as they began their adventure into married life. Being creative (but not artistic) I presented
my advice to the soon-to-be bride in a stick-figure illustration.
FOUR
GIVE AND FOUR GET
Thirty years later I’m looking
back at my own advice and wondering if I can truly be that forgiving…and that
forgetting. For me, forgiveness comes
easy as I’ve learned (sometimes the hard way) to forgive what I’ve considered
huge violations and offenses in my life.
But the forgetting isn’t quite so easy.
I’m finding that I am being asked by my higher self to consider a type
of “conscious amnesia” in order for me to stay in the present moment and not
dredge up the painful experiences of the past.
I’m sure many of you are
involved with Oprah’s on-line seminars with Eckhart Tolle discussing these
principles in his latest book, A New
Earth. I haven’t been available for
the seminars as my lap-top doesn’t do “streaming videos.” But I did pick up the book the other day at
Coscos, as I’d started reading it at my sister’s in San Diego one night; and
although I wasn’t too impressed with the first two chapters (I felt they were
redundant for me) I decided to continue with the book as many of you have
expressed the value of Oprah’s presentations.
As I got into the third chapter I found the following quote of special
interest to me:
The Truth is inseparable from who you
are. Yes, you are the Truth. If you look for it elsewhere, you will be
deceived every time. The very Being that
you are is Truth. Jesus tried to convey
that when he said, “I am the way and the truth and the life.” These words uttered by Jesus are one of the
most powerful and direct pointers to the Truth if understood correctly. If misinterpreted, however, they become a
great obstacle. Jesus speaks of the
innermost I Am, the essence identity of every man and woman, every life-form,
in fact. He speaks of the life that you
are. Some Christian mystics have called
it the Christ within; Buddhists call it your Buddha nature; for Hindus, it is
Atman, the indwelling God. When you are
in touch with that dimension within yourself—and being in touch with it is your
natural state, not some miraculous achievement—all your actions and
relationships will reflect the oneness with all life that you sense deep
within. This is love. Laws, commandments, rules, and regulations
are necessary for those who are cut off from who they are, the Truth
within. They prevent the worst excesses
of the ego, and often they don’t even do that.
“Love and do what you will,” said St. Augustine. Words cannot get much closer to the Truth
than that.
A couple of days ago as I was
helping Mom trim some shrubs on the side of the house in Salt Lake to make room
for a vegetable garden, my niece, Danielle (who lives in Mom’s basement
apartment) came over to chat.
“So have you decided whether or
not you’re going to stay with Brad?” she asked, referring to the family rumor
of Brad having an affair while I was in Yuma and me threatening to divorce
him. Before I could answer she
continued. “Ya know I knew Brad was
lying when he told Joel and me that the woman who stayed overnight was married
and her husband was coming to get her in the morning. I told Joel that we should call you
immediately and let you know what was going on.
But Joel told me it was none of our business and to stay out of it. Brad told us he’d call you and let you know
in the morning that she’d stayed overnight.”
I was somewhat confused by
Danielle’s information and responded, “The woman Brad had an affair with isn’t married and she never stayed overnight…as far as I
know.” Then it dawned on me who she was
talking about. “Oh, you’re talking about
my friend, Claudia, who stayed overnight a couple of times. Yes, she is
married and Brad told me all about those overnight stays. I’m sure nothing happened with her as she’s
happily married and still goes to Church.”
“You mean that wasn’t the woman Brad had an affair with?” Danielle replied in
astonishment.
“No, not at all,” I
answered. “In fact, the woman Brad had
an affair with is the one I’m going into business with up in Bountiful. I’m in the process of setting up my massage
room there this week.”
“Are
you crazy?!!” Danielle responded, wide-eyed with shock.
I thought about if for a brief
moment questioning my own sanity (given my family’s history of mental illness).
“Actually, Danielle, I am
practicing forgiveness…which includes forgetting the past and moving forward as
if nothing ever happened.”
Danielle walked away, shaking
her head and mumbling, “I could never
be that forgiving.”
That evening as Brad and I were
up in Bountiful after a meeting with Michele (aka Nichole) at the BLI
(Bountiful Life Institute), our conversation turned to the recent news
concerning the Texas raid on the FLDS (polygamous) compound there. Michele mentioned she was emotionally
affected by the impact of all the children being torn away from their
mothers—some being infants and toddlers—and the potential damage it would cause
them later on in life. She mentioned
that she felt that the women seemed to be happy living in polygamy and why should
we intrude on a lifestyle that seems to be working for many of them?
I could feel myself being
emotionally triggered by some of Michele’s naïve remarks. “The reason the state is going after these
polygamist compounds is because they are a cesspool of human right’s
violations. Perhaps the women may look
happy on the surface but I can tell you—firsthand—that their rights as human
beings are being violated. Can you
imagine, Michele, being forced to listen to your husband in the other room
having sex with another woman? And you
don’t have the option of soliciting another man as a husband to comfort you
during those periods—or even talk to a “single” man without your husband or a
Priesthood leader coming down on you.
And yet your husband can solicit women for sexual partners according to
his own desires. And think of those
young girls—some 12 and 13—who are being married off to men in their 70’s and
80’s without their consent. Now that is
downright disgusting if you ask me!”
“That is wrong,” Michele replied.
“I guess it’s just part of the brainwashing that makes these women
defend their position that they are happy and have a right to choose who they
marry—even if the man is already married.”
I knew this was hitting a
trigger too close to home—in more ways than one. “You’re absolutely right! People should be able to choose who they
sleep with—as long as they aren’t violating any one else’s rights! What would happen if the women were given the
same rights as a man and could sleep with anyone they chose? Do you think these polygamist men would go
for that?!” I could tell my voice was
becoming emotionally charged but I felt the need to finish. “That’s why I left my polygamist
relationship—because of the inequality and injustice of it all.”
I thought back to the time of
my decision to leave polygamy. It was
after Kurt and I had seen the movie “Pleasantville” and we were on our way
home. The last scene in the movie had
really affected me where the wife turns to the two men on either side of her
(one her husband, the other her lover) and asks “So now what?” I had questioned Kurt as to why he thought it
was so wrong for women to have more
than one husband yet he was so justified in having more than one wife. It was then that he exploded at me and called
me a “whore with an adulterous spirit for even having those thoughts.” His anger turned to rage as I tried to defend
my beliefs; and then he started slapping me around inside the car. I reached for the door handle to open the car
door so I could escape this terrible abuse as we were traveling 70 mph down the
highway. Fortunately, the door was
childproof locked and I was unable to open it or I might not be alive right now
to write this.
The next day I decided I’d had
enough of polygamy and when I threatened to leave with the children, Kurt
knocked my down right in front of our kids.
He was a black-belt in karate and the force of his blow knocked me out
for a moment. It was then that I knew I had to leave. When I finally escaped, I had to leave all of
my ten children including my 18-month-old son, Andrew, who was still nursing
with him. That’s the way Andrew was
weaned. Kurt said if I left with any of
“his” children that he would “track me down and gut me open.” That’s part of the polygamist’s belief
system. They believe the children belong
to the man and they still believe in “blood atonement” if the wife ever
leaves. That she will be more blessed in
heaven if he kills her so that she can “blood atone” for her sin in the event
that she marries another man and commits “adultery.”
“That really is sick and
wrong,” replied Michele, who hadn’t been informed of my polygamous
background thus far. I didn’t know how
much she could handle in one evening so I didn’t even get into how I didn’t get
to see my children for 8 months until I finally got brave enough to walk
through Kurt’s “no trespassing signs” on “our” land in Montana just to see
them. Kurt called the cops and had me
arrested for trespassing. The cops,
after listening to my story, finally offered 30 minutes with my children before
they booked me and threw me in jail. I
spent the entire night in jail crying for being arrested (on what I considered
my own property as I had pretty much paid for the land) and then jailed just
because I wanted to see my children. And
there was no hope in sight for me having regular visitations with them as Kurt
was convinced “that I was a bad influence on his children.” That I was an
“apostate” with an “apostate spirit.”
After several more violent confrontations with him—just trying to visit
my children—I prayed to God to “take me home as a Birthday present to me.” Life was no longer worth living without my
children. A week before my 42nd
Birthday, I was in a near-fatal car accident to where the passenger of the
car—Nolan, my high-school sweetheart and present boyfriend—was killed. I was the driver of the vehicle and suffered
extensive injuries including a shattered heel, fractured knee-cap,
multiple-fractured forearm and broken ribs.
It was during my rehabilitation that I met Brad—who was my knight in
shining armor—and we were married five months later.
I knew tonight was not the
night to get into all the “grisly details” with Michele about my personal
experiences with polygamy as she was tired and needed to rest. She’d had a busy day. “You really should read my book if you want
to know what polygamy’s really like,” I mentioned to her as Brad and I got up
to leave.
“I just want to say one thing
to you, Janae, before you leave.” I
walked over and sat on the bed and gave her a big hug. “What might that be, Michele?”
“You have the right to live
whatever you believe,” she spoke softly.
“You’re absolutely right, my
dear. But our rights are only as good as
our willingness to embrace them. And
those rights should never violate
anyone else’s rights.” I paused for a
moment to allow the energy to shift. “My
vision is to create a ‘safe haven’ on my 15 acres out in Indianola for those
women, children, and young boys who choose to escape the tyranny of polygamy
and need some support. I was never
offered any support and I’d like to
create a place of safety and healing for others, like me, who choose to
liberate themselves from such injustices.”
During that week, I happened to
watch two movies which brought this subject of injustice really home. The first one was “Sleepers” staring Brad
Pitt, Kevin Bacon, Robert De Niro, Dustin Hoffman and Jason Patrick. It was a disturbing movie about how four
young boys from “Hell’s Kitchen” are tortured and raped in a boy’s detention
home and then succeed in a “Count of Monte Cristo” style revenge. It was an excellent movie but extremely
emotionally charged. The second one was
“Blood Diamond” which, according to Brad, was his real-life experience in Sierra Leone mining diamonds. He commented that he even looked and acted
like Leonardo DiCaprio when he was 22 and living in Africa. (Hey, I’ll give him the benefit of the
doubt.) But this whole “violent injustice
thing” really seemed to be playing out it’s theme on me this week—and I sought
for some insights into it all. Then I
got another “gift of grace aha” experience on Saturday.
Ted (not his real name) had
called the week earlier for a massage and finally on Friday I promised that I’d
have my massage room set up at Michele’s in Bountiful for a massage that
Saturday. He was ecstatic as it had been
several months since he’d had a “real” massage and his back was in bad shape
from working construction. He also said
weekends were best for him. I felt a bit
guilty leaving Brad alone on Saturday as Friday morning he’d just undergone
surgery for a hernia. Michele wouldn’t
be home as she was doing sports massage for the Salt Lake Marathon
runners. She’d invited me to come along,
but I wasn’t much of a sports massage therapist and preferred working on
regular clients. She offered to leave
the house open so I could set up my room on Saturday morning to give Ted a
massage at 1:00.
When Ted arrived there was the
familiarity of an old client/patient relationship. I’d worked on Ted several times during the
past year and had gotten to know him on a personal basis. He’d suffered a divorce the year before and
massage seemed not only to ease his physical pains but perhaps meet some of his
emotional needs as well. I couldn’t deny
that there was some sexual attraction between the two of us as he shared some
of his personal experiences of getting involved in a “swinger’s group” and then
losing his wife, his home, and his business as a result. He had a lot of insight for his young age of
35 and there was a sense of camaraderie as I shared with him some of my
experiences living “polyamory.”
“So let’s just kick the owner
out and move in!” Ted exclaimed as I gave him a guided tour of Michele’s house
aka The Bountiful Life Institute.
“I wish it were that easy but
we’re sort of ‘in bed together,’” I replied, and then shared with him the
entire story of my Yuma experience with Brad and Michele.
“Wow, that’s intense,” was all
Ted could say as I escorted him into the massage room to get undressed.
After I began the massage, I
soon realized how good it felt to massage a young, attractive body rather than
the elderly ones I’d been massaging in Yuma (except for Steve). Also, how good it felt to reconnect with my
regular clients whom I’d missed almost as much as they’d missed me.
“So Ted, tell me what’s been
going on in your life,” I inquired as I undraped his back and assessed where
his problems lie. “Nothing—just
work. Honestly—just work—I haven’t even
had time to date. In fact, the last time
I got laid was a year ago on Valentine’s Day with my ex-wife. Isn’t that disgusting?”
“Well, sex isn’t all it’s
cracked up to be—that’s for sure. Hey,
I’ve been living down in Yuma with the “over-the-hill” gang all winter long so
I guess it’s been a long, cold winter for both of us. ‘Course at least I could lay-out in the sun
in 80 degree weather to warm my bones.
It sounds like you’ve had a miserably cold winter this year.”
“You better believe it! One week I was stuck out in Wyoming on a job
where it was 30 below. I nearly froze my
butt off.”
“Oh, your butt looks still
pretty fine,” I remarked as I undraped it to work on his gluts and thighs.
Our conversation then turned to
a more sexual flavor as we shared with each other our recent developments in
the “swingers” department and if I was now available to “date.” I told him that I wasn’t sure where Brad
stood as we kinda shelved the whole idea for the present moment. But I did confess that I had asked Brad that
morning if “sex with Ted” was an option if the energy “came up.” Brad confessed that he didn’t know Ted and
wished that I would wait—but that it was my
choice. I could tell that Brad was
feeling a bit vulnerable and resistant to the whole proposition when I left the
house.
I turned Ted over and experienced
a sort of de-ja-vu as I began working his inner thighs, noticing the familiar
“pup-tent.” Ted had already apologized
for his previous “hard-on” during my last massage—and I’d told him it was
perfectly natural—especially when he wasn’t having regular sex. I silently reminisced on how identical this
experience was with Steve in Yuma—except for the fact that Ted was single and
available…and I was now in an “open” relationship. What poetic justice or sweet revenge it would
be for me to strip the sheet off of Ted and have spontaneous, passionate sex
right there on the massage table in Michele’s home. But then I reminded myself of the agreements
I’d made with Michele that this type of therapy was not her intentions for the
“conservative and professional” Bountiful Life Institute. And I reminded myself of my own professional
agreements I’d made when I’d applied for my massage therapy license—to not
cross any sexual boundaries during a therapy session. I had never
crossed those boundaries—and I knew I never
would. But I couldn’t deny the
temptation that played through my mind as I finished up with Ted’s neck. He was putty in my hands and I knew he wanted
(and needed) sex just as much as I did.
“Hey, you ought to come over to
my place and have some pear Sake with me tonight. It really makes me horny and I could really
give you a ride.”
“I love pear Sake!” I exclaimed
as I redraped Ted’s chest which I’d left undraped ‘til the end. (Hey, I was admiring the view.) “My daughter brought me some Sake back from Japan
and it was one of the best drunks I’ve ever experienced. It really made me ‘happy’ if you know what I
mean.”
I recalled the fun time I’d had
up at a friend’s cabin, when a few of us had gotten drunk on Sake. It was one of those “memorable” parties of
extemporaneous comedy, dancing, singing and general fooling around. It was great!
“Hey, let me check with Brad
and see if it’s okay with him. I’m not
sure if this weekend would be a good time as he just had hernia surgery
yesterday and is a bit ‘needy.’ But you
never know what might transpire in the next week or so. Regardless—I’m sure if you come back for some
of our gatherings here that undoubtedly you’ll hook up with someone who is available.”
I gave Ted a “not-so-holy” kiss
and hug before he left and wondered if I would experience any regrets. “Nah,” I said to myself as I cleaned up and
drove back home to take care of Brad.
That evening I took up my
Eckhart Tolle book and read:
DO
YOU WANT PEACE OR DRAMA?
You want peace. There is no one who does not want peace. Yet there is something else in you that wants
the drama, wants the conflict. You may
not be able to feel it at this moment.
You may have to wait for a situation or even just a thought that
triggers a reaction in you; someone accusing you of this or that, not
acknowledging you, encroaching on your territory, questioning the way you do
things, an argument about money…Can you then feel the enormous surge of force
moving through you, the fear, perhaps being masked by anger or hostility? Can you hear your own voice becoming harsh or
shrill, or louder and a few octaves lower?
Can you be aware of your mind racing to defend its position, justify,
attack, blame? In other words, can you
awaken at that moment of unconsciousness?
Can you feel that there is something in you that is at war, something
that feels threatened and wants to survive at all cost, that needs the drama in
order to assert its identity as the victorious character within that theatrical
production? Can you feel there is something
in you that would rather be right than at peace?
Today I
chose peace rather than drama. And I am
learning each and every day to forgive…and forget. But I also learned another thing as the
relationship between Michele and I collapsed as she backed out on all of her business agreements with
me. That I don’t need to go into
business or go to bed with people who don’t have integrity.
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