Letting Bygone be Bygones
The Monthly, February 2005

"My husband and I are trying to start a family, and I have big issues with my parents," Sabrina*, a young Japanese woman, tells the group of thirty people–twenty-two women and eight men, ranging in age from thirty-something to sixty-something, sitting in a circle of oversized pillows on the meeting room’s thickly carpeted floor. "They abused me physically and emotionally as a child. I’m hoping this workshop will help me forgive them, so my children can know their grandparents someday."

"I’m so glad you’re doing that before you have children," Renata* says through a thick German accent. She begins to sob. "I have a two-year-old, and I have a real problem with anger. I only wish I’d worked on it before I had my daughter." Someone passes Renata a box of tissues; she leans back into her husband’s arms.

"Are you going to deal with rage? Because I’m here to deal with my jerk of an ex-husband," Susan,* a middle-aged white woman, asks Fred Luskin, the workshop leader. A psychotherapist and Stanford University researcher, Luskin has asked each participant to say why he or she has come here to Esalen, the new age retreat center built into the cliffs of Big Sur, for a weekend workshop on forgiveness.

"What we’ll be doing here is not psychotherapy," Luskin responds. "It’s education. This weekend we’ll learn to practice what the Dalai Lama calls ‘the condition of happiness’–by learning to let go of things that have hurt us."

"For me it’s actually healthy to get mad at my ex-," Susan persists. "To be able to say he’s a jerk means I’m not blaming everything on myself for a change."

"Your rage is hurting you, not the person it’s aimed at," Luskin says. "Forgiving your ex-husband doesn’t mean getting back together with him, or approving of what he did. It’s something you do for yourself–to heal your heart and your body.

"Do you know that every time we get angry we do damage to ourselves physically?" Luskin looks intently from one person to the next. "The EKG of someone who’s angry looks just like the EKG of someone who’s ill. It can take our immune system four hours to recover from a five-minute bout of anger!" He runs his hand through his unruly shock of brown hair. "There are two qualities that do help us survive the large and small horrors of the world; the Holocausts and the traffic jams," he says. "Those qualities are forgiveness and hope."

"Speaking of traffic–on the way down here it was brutal," grumbles a tan, balding man.

"When we spend our days rushed and stressed," Luskin comments, "we’re in survival mode–not at our best. Studies show that most people are in that mode, focusing on the negative aspects of their lives, seventy-five to eighty percent of the time.

"I’ll guide you through an exercise to get that negativity out of the way," Luskin says. "The best place to start is with the breath. If our breath is calm, deep into the belly, it resets the nervous system to neutral. That gives us access to resources we can’t use when our mind and body are agitated. And breathing is a great opportunity to give thanks for partaking of this thing called life. So: let’s close our eyes. Breathe in..."

Outside the picture window, a thundering waterfall tumbles into the sea; in the kelp beds below, gulls and otters swoop and dive for food. Inside, the room is filled with the whooshing of breaths inhaled and released. "Soften your belly...say thanks for the breath," Luskin says. "Now think of one other thing you’re grateful for."

"I just can’t see closing your eyes when you’re stuck in traffic," the balding man whispers to his neighbor.

* * * *

Raised in a Jewish family on Long Island, Frederic Luskin was drawn to Eastern spirituality during his college years. He developed a daily meditation practice, became a vegetarian, then headed west to Santa Cruz where he opened what he calls a ‘hippie pizza joint.’ "Running a restaurant was hard work," he says with an ironic grin. "I needed a more sustainable way to earn a living." He enrolled at San Jose State, earned a masters degree in psychology, and became a high school psychologist. "I didn’t like the job," he says flatly. "You’re limited in what you can do to help the kids: lots of testing, not much counseling." So he applied to the Ph.D. program at Stanford, where a like-minded professor mentored his fascination with the relationship between spirituality and health.

For the dissertation he wrote in 1996, Luskin chose the subject closest to his heart. His best friend had just abruptly ended their relationship, leaving him distraught–and obsessed. The dissertation became Luskin’s first forgiveness study, a ten-week program in which 55 college students were asked to meditate, write, and talk about the people and situations they wanted to forgive–then forgive them. "I figured that if I, a licensed therapist, was still enraged about this abandonment, still thinking about it several times a day three years later, other people might be having problems with forgiveness, too," he recalls, sitting in his office in Stanford’s Complementary Medicine Clinic, its sole decoration a bumper sticker that reads, "FORGIVENESS–Giving Up The Hope For A Better Past."

The phone rings: a corporation wants to sponsor Luskin to bring his forgiveness training to a community devastated by the latest high school shooting. "I get asked to do so many interesting things these days," Luskin muses as he hangs up the phone. "Forgiveness wasn’t as big when I started as it is now."

Forgiveness is getting bigger fast. An estimated 400 researchers worldwide are currently studying its physical and emotional benefits, many funded by the Templeton Foundation, which gave Luskin $200,000 in 1998 to study the effects of forgiveness on 260 adults. Luskin turned away so many prospective participants that he started offering paid classes to accommodate the overflow. Thus, the Fred Luskin Forgiveness Training was born. To date Luskin has ‘trained’ about three thousand people, tailoring his presentation to fit various timeframes and venues: biannual weekend workshops at Esalen, one-day workshops at colleges, bookstores, and churches, and five-week, two-hour-per-session evening seminars at Stanford. Eighty percent of his ‘students’ are female; most come because they’re dealing with infidelity, job problems, in-law tensions, or childhood trauma.

Borrowing from such disparate disciplines as Buddhism and behavior modification, Christianity and psychology, metaphysics and physiology, Luskin offers a practical blend of lecture, guided meditation, and conversation, all centered on the three core practices he hopes to teach his students. The first is to take the offense less personally; to understand that suffering is part of the human condition, not cause for shame.

The second is to identify and let go of what Luskin calls our ‘unenforceable rules’–"A friend should tell me everything;" "A husband should be home by six every night;" "I should get where I’m going in fifteen minutes"–which lead to disappointment and bitterness when those rules are broken.

The third practice is the rewriting of the ‘grievance story’–the litany of complaints blaming others for our pain, which takes on more power with each retelling–so that the moral of the story shifts from victimization to good intentions gone awry. Luskin emphasizes that the purpose of this practice, and the purpose of forgiveness itself, is not to reconcile wounding relationships but to rebuild wounded self-esteem.

"Let’s say a loving marriage is your goal," Luskin explains. "You’re driving along the road of life, headed toward love, when you crash into the husband from hell. Instead of spending years by the side of the road, nursing your wounds, focusing on how badly he hurt you, you can rewrite your grievance story: tell yourself that this particular husband is not the only manifestation of love on the planet, congratulate yourself on your efforts to reach your goal, and get back on the road to a healthy, loving relationship."

If such an admirable approach–along with the $95 to $500 it costs to attend a Forgiveness Training seminar–seems beyond the reach of mere mortals, research indicates that the gains are worth the stretch. Luskin’s studies and others’ have shown that practicing forgiveness significantly lowers anger and stress and increases optimism, energy and concentration. Other reported benefits include improved sleep, more stable blood pressure, quicker recovery from surgery, and fewer diagnosed illnesses. Equally convincing are the testimonials of Luskin’s graduates.

* * * *

"My husband had left me for another woman seven years ago, and I still hated his guts," says Catherine O’Brien, a 52-year-old video producer in Palo Alto, California. "Suddenly I was an empty nester all alone, the single parent of two kids in college. This was not how I’d thought my life would play out. I blamed my ex-husband every day.

"Then, two years ago, a friend gave me Fred Luskin’s audiotape," O’Brien says. "I put it on while I was sorting through family photos. It was as if a lightening bolt hit me. I realized that I was throwing away my whole past, and that hating my ex-husband was hurting me, not him. Suddenly I didn’t want to be ‘the wife whose husband left her’ anymore. I put down the photo album, called my ex-husband, and told him, ‘This is crazy. I want us to be friends.’ He was shocked–we hadn’t talked in years. But we had a wonderful conversation.

"Forgiving my ex-husband didn’t make him my favorite person, but it has improved our relationship. That’s been tremendously beneficial to our children, and it took a huge burden away from me. This whole process has made me take things a lot less personally. My anger doesn’t eat me up anymore."

* * * *

Forty-nine-year-old Laurie Goldstein*, also of Palo Alto, was drawn to Fred Luskin’s work for an all-too-similar reason. Three years after her husband left her and their two children, she says, "I still couldn’t get my arms around what had happened. I was thinking about it all the time. It took up way too much of my energy." She applied to Luskin’s second study, but was disqualified because she was taking antidepressants. Instead, Goldstein paid for four private sessions with one of Luskin’s researchers. "My goal," she says, "was to embrace forgiveness, to allow my ex-husband to have done what he did and still love him. Not necessarily to forget–but to forgive."

During their sessions the researcher led Goldstein through Luskin’s guided meditations, helping her monitor the physical changes triggered by different emotional states. "I felt what physiologically happened in my body when I got angry," she says, "the adrenaline rush, the tightness clenching my muscles. And I realized the anger was doing awful things to me."

Having sought solace in several other healing practices–hypnotherapy, psychotherapy, Buddhist meditation, attending spiritual workshops and retreats–Goldstein reports that Luskin’s training was among the most effective. "I learned to summon a loving feeling rather than an angry feeling," she says. "I saw that I was hanging onto the story of how I’d been betrayed, and that the story was becoming who I was. I realized that even though I didn’t have free will around what happened, I do have free will around how I see it. Finally I was able to let go of the story, to keep it from taking over my life."

* * * *

After a healthy Esalen breakfast of nine-grain cereal and warm blueberry muffins the next morning, the workshop participants plop themselves back onto their pillows. "Anyone have a question or a comment before I begin?" Fred Luskin asks.

"I decided I’m going to deal with my jerk of an ex-husband by practicing the kindness that I deserve," Susan declares.

"Great!" Luskin nods his approval.

"How do you know when it’s time to let go of something that hurt you?" another woman asks.

"If you’ve had the same discussion in your head ten times, you understand where it’s going. You don’t need to have it again," Luskin answers. "You can tell the difference between that and a conversation that might lead to some resolution."

"What if you really are stuck in a situation–like a job you can’t afford to quit?" asks a thirty-year-old executive assistant.

"Have compassion toward yourself," Luskin responds. "Instead of feeling victimized, congratulate yourself for your commitment to supporting yourself and your family."

"How does one deal with a chronic situation of anger and pain, when forgiveness isn’t possible?" asks Praveen, a Pakistani man. "When it comes to your parents or your children, you can’t just leave."

"Except when we have underage children, we don’t have to stay in a relationship," Luskin answers. "One thing that makes being an adult hard is that we’re responsible for the choices we make."

"What about when you get bad service in a restaurant?" asks George*, a sixty-year-old retired engineer. "You don’t choose that! And if you just roll over and let it happen, you’ll be angrier than if you confront it!"

"I’m not so concerned about that kind of situational anger," Luskin answers. "What we’re here to work on is the anger we hold on to: the rehearsal, the practicing, the telling and re-telling of the angry, unforgiving story. In contrast, how many times do we rehearse compassion or forgiveness?"

"But what if someone does something really terrible?" a woman who hasn’t spoken before asks quietly. "Like…rape. How do you forgive that?"

"Can you imagine forgiving murder?" Luskin asks intently. The room falls silent, all eyes on him.

"We did a project at Stanford. We brought twenty-five people over from Northern Ireland," Luskin continues. "Each of them had had a son murdered, some as long as thirty years ago. One woman had been searching for her son’s body since 1978. Each of them traveled all that distance in hopes of forgiving their sons’ murderers. I sat in that room with those grieving mothers and I felt, it’s hard to know how to live in a world where people are so vicious.

"I’ll give you the same advice I gave them. I told them, you may have had a son murdered, but you still have a family. You need to find ways to move forward with your remaining family members, to help others with what you’ve gone through. And they saw that by staying stuck in their grief, they were doing nothing to honor their dead loved ones."

Luskin glances at his watch. "Since anger seems to be an issue for several of you, let’s try an experiment. Close your eyes and take a couple of breaths." Obediently, each student assumes the meditation position once again.

"Bring to your mind a person or a situation that makes you angry–a hurt that hasn’t been resolved. Focus your attention on what they did wrong. Stay with that for a while." Several faces twist into grimaces; the breathing sounds in the room become ragged. "Now open your eyes. Was there anyone who didn’t notice that their body responded in some way? Did you feel the tension?"

"My jaw tightened. I felt the acid come up from my gut," a gray-haired woman reports. Luskin nods. "I’m concerned about the damage that does to our immune system. You have a cortical shutoff when you’re in that state, and you’re practicing a condition of unhappiness. People always ask me, what else can I do when I’m angry? And I say, you’ll do whatever you practice doing: forgiveness and happiness, or anger and unhappiness. It’s your choice. And it has very real consequences for your health."

* * * *

Those consequences are what drove Praveen Khilnani, the 46-year-old president of a software company, to sign up for Luskin’s workshop. "Last year I had two heart attacks," Khilnani explains, shortly after returning from Esalen. "I’m young; I’m a healthy eater; I exercise three times a week. I had to see my heart attacks as an indication that I needed to look at what I was holding in my heart. A forgiveness workshop seemed the perfect place to explore that. I wanted to work on forgiving myself for goals I haven’t met, certain professional milestones I thought should have reached by a certain time.

"Also, a couple of years back I had a nasty experience with someone in my business. It kept bothering the life out of me. I felt, how could someone have done that when I did so much for him? During the workshop, going through the various exercises, this betrayal was the first thing that popped into my head. I thought, let me see if this exercise will work on that. And it did! I can truly say that since the workshop I’ve gone into my head and heart and pressed the delete button. I believe I’ve moved on."

Khilnani chuckles. "I’ve also found that it’s easier to forgive others than myself. I’m still working on that one. It’s a lifelong process. But working on forgiving oneself is such a wonderful place to be."

* * * *

"I went into the workshop very skeptical," Sabrina Tanaka* admits. "I’m thirty-two years old. I’ve had problems with my parents my whole life. Our relationship had deteriorated to the point where we’re barely on speaking terms. I didn’t expect to find a way to alleviate the pain in a weekend workshop.

"But the most amazing thing happened the day I got home from Esalen: I actually spoke to my parents. And it was fine! I think what helped was Fred’s message about not having unrealistic expectations, not expecting other people to change to meet your needs. I was able to reframe my disappointment in my parents, to realize they probably love me the best way they can. Now I’m realizing that I can forgive them even without their acknowledgment that they caused me pain.

"It’s only been a week," Sabrina concludes, "but since the workshop I’ve felt calmer. I’ve been noticing more the things that go right instead of just what goes wrong. The physiological data Fred gave us impressed me; I don’t think it’s worth the effects on my health to be irritated. When I signed up for the workshop I didn’t know I’d learn to practice a new way of thinking, or that I’d come away with concrete tools I can really use. That was a nice surprise."

* * * *

"I’ve always been an angry person, especially since my baby’s birth," says Renata Barnes, the woman who cried during the workshop, reflecting on the experience a few weeks later. "I felt like she was the innocent and the whole world was attacking her–including my husband. I alienated everyone, including him, being so insanely protective of her. And I was horribly rude in traffic. My husband always said ‘someone’s going to shoot you someday.’ When I read about the forgiveness workshop, I told my husband, ‘I need that.’ I asked him to come with me, and he agreed.

"Most of us think of forgiveness as blanket approval for what people have done," Renata continues. "To me it’s more a sense of peacefulness about the world. That’s what I wanted from the workshop, and that’s what I got. Since we came back from Esalen I’ve realized that being so angry isn’t going to get me anywhere; it’s just making me and my family miserable. Fred used logic to show me a different way to see things. The things he said made sense to my intellect, to my left brain. As Fred says, without the anger, I can use my cortex and think."

 

Sidebar:

The Eight Steps To Forgiveness

Drawing from an eclectic blend of spiritual, psychological, and scientific techniques, Stanford researcher and psychotherapist Fred Luskin has devised this eight-step forgiveness ‘recipe’ to reduce mental and physical suffering and increase happiness and health.

If you find yourself obsessing about a past hurt, repeating your ‘grievance story’ to anyone who’ll listen (and especially those who won’t), try this "Forgiveness Intervention:"

1: SAY HOW YOU FEEL

Talk about what happened and what was painful about it with one or two trusted people. (Repeating the story too many times can backfire, Luskin warns, shifting your focus from articulation to victimization.)

2: COMMIT TO FEELING BETTER

Remind yourself that you deserve to end your suffering, and that forgiveness is a gift from you, to you.

3: CLARIFY YOUR GOAL

Although reconciliation with the person who hurt you is a possible outcome of forgiving, it isn’t guaranteed–nor, in some cases, is it desirable. The goal of forgiveness is your own mental, emotional, and physical well-being.

4. UNDERSTAND THE SOURCE OF YOUR SUFFERING

What’s hurting you now isn’t the original injury–it’s actually your response to the pain, which is reinforced every time you tell your ‘grievance story.’ To free yourself from that endless loop, focus on changing the way you think and talk about what happened, instead of dwelling on the past.

5. PRACTICE STRESS MANAGEMENT

When your body reacts to the memory of the injury, counter the ‘fight or flight’ response by closing your eyes, taking two deep breaths, and picturing a place or person you love.

6. EXAMINE YOUR EXPECTATIONS

Expecting other people or past situations to change is fruitless and creates needless suffering. Accept people and situations for who and what they are, not what you want them to be.

7. GET YOUR NEEDS MET

Instead of trying again and again to get what you need from people who can’t or won’t give it to you, find new ways (and possibly new people) to help you get what you want and deserve.

8. SAY THANK YOU!

Focusing on wounded feelings hands your power over to the person who hurt you. Make the shift from bitterness to gratitude by listing, regularly, the blessings in your life. Living well–and knowing it–is the best revenge!