Forgive Me, For I Have Sinned...

"It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution." ~ Oscar Wilde


Growing up Catholic, confession was one of the dreaded tasks I had no way out of and never looked forward to, but unfortunately it was one of the necessary evils one had to undergo at least once a month. According to Don Battaglini, confession was as essential before receiving communion as scrubbing behind one’s ears is before going to the doctor, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

For many years I didn’t really understand the meaning of confession. What could anyone – a kid, especially – have done that they couldn’t express directly to God? There were times I couldn’t even think of anything worth the three Hail Marys and the three Lord’s Prayers the good priest habitually sentenced us with, after we spilled our dirty little secrets of not listening to our parents and stealing chalk from the teacher to play hop-scotch after school. Confession really seemed a waste of time back then.

Then I grew up, and for the most part I walked away from the religion to explore other paths. No other system of belief I became acquainted with included anything similar to confession, but I was fairly impressed by something I read while exploring the customs of one Native American tribe.

In the case mentioned in the story, a woman had unintentionally killed someone and had gotten away with her crime. When she confided her woes to an old shaman and told him of the guilt she felt, the shaman suggested she should spend thirty days alone inside a cave, eating unsalted foods and following other practices to purify her body and mind. This way, the shaman explained, she would avoid future repercussions of her act.

At the time the story made little sense to me, but as years went by – and as I had the opportunity to witness other pertinent situations – I understood the wisdom behind the old shaman’s suggestion: A crime with no confession and punishment takes root in the deeper part of ourselves, and triggers self-sabotage and repetitive patterns later on.

Yesterday, I accidentally stumbled into an online discussion which confirmed this concept once again. A young woman explained she had a terrible time the week before, because of something that weighed on her soul. Initially, she was unable to open up to anybody about it, and gloom wrapped around her like a blanket pulled too tight, making her feel overwhelmed and alone. Then, she finally decided to open up to her family and friends, told them what was bothering her, and was pleasantly surprised by the outpouring of love and understanding she received. Suddenly the sun broke through the clouds that had darkened her world, and everything was well again. Once she saw that others were able to forgive her, she also came to forgive herself.

We often keep harmful thoughts guarded inside of us, afraid they will bring us shame, or leave us vulnerable in a big, unforgiving world, but in reality, the world is usually ready to forgive us before we are able to forgive ourselves. The moment we open up and allow ourselves to see that external judges are not nearly as hard as our own inner one, and the sun still rises and sets after we have let the cat out of the bag, the process of healing begins.

Guarding a secret requires tremendous emotional energy, and leaves us feeling incomplete and unable to bring conflicts to a resolution. Once the "confession" has taken place, payment of dues is the next step toward healing. It is not uncommon to discover that others have been down the same path and experienced similar feelings; suddenly we are no longer alone against an unforgiving world.

Of course, "confession" of one’s perceived transgressions is not an exclusive Catholic benefit. One can open up to a friend, to a co-worker, or even to someone they have just met, and unload the weight before thinking of ways to make amends. They won’t qualify to receive communion, but their soul will, in due time, soar to greater heights.

Seeing with the Heart - An Approach to Living a Meaningful Life

“The advantage of the emotions is that they lead us astray.” ~ Oscar Wilde


Several months ago, I expressed to a friend my belief that hatred and misunderstandings arise when people see things through their eyes only, rather than “seeing” with their hearts. The friend replied that people should never see with their hearts because emotions only lead to greater trouble.

When I told her that I agreed with her in part, she appeared confused, and couldn’t seem to reconcile my previous statement of “seeing with the heart”, with my standing on emotions. Indeed, it is quite simple – emotions are not born from the heart. We assume they are, as we are taught that if our feelings are hurt, our heart is broken, but in reality the two are not related. Emotions are born from the ego, the arch-enemy of the heart. A pure heart knows little or no ego, and is able to channel truth; ego, on the other hand, triggers false emotions to appease its bruised twin – pride – and tricks people into believing that their hurt feelings, and the illusion they feed, are coming from the heart.

Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, an Indian spiritual leader, once made a statement that really strikes a cord, when it comes to the reason why emotions are often embraced even if their effect on our lives is detrimental. “When sadness comes,” he said, “just sit by the side, and look at it, and say ‘I am the watcher. I am not sadness.’ and see the difference. Immediately you have cut the very root of sadness. It is no more nourished. It will die of starvation. We feed these emotions by being identified with them.”

Identifying with emotions is extremely simple, and whether the emotions are positive or negative, they become a comfort zone it is hard to break away from, since the other side - void of familiar feelings - represents the unknown.

In a very interesting interview, the Dalai Lama said that the first step to enlightenment is to put a rein on emotions by exercising self-discipline. By restraining emotions one does not become dry and unfeeling, but rather has the ability of seeing with increased clarity, without being falsely led by an ego screaming to be acknowledged. “Seeing with the heart” means that one is willing to love without judgment, is ready to forgive and be compassionate, and is open to acceptance of things that would be maddening if seen through the eyes only.

After discussing the difference between emotions and heart guidance, my friend was able to begin healing some painful issues she had dealt with after the break-up of her marriage. She realized that when her husband left, her pride was bruised, and the emotional charge that ensued was the voice of her ego struggling over her loss of control. Several months later, she is doing much better; her anger is gone, and she now enjoys “watching” and discerning different emotions that arise on the average day. Her relationship with her ex-husband has also greatly improved, which is a blessing since they share two children. She sees that their marriage was doomed by mutual incompatibility, and wishes her former spouse well on his new life. She is finally able to “see with her heart.”

The Little Shell on the Mantel

“What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise.” ~ Oscar Wilde




Very few sounds are as calming as the rhythmic rumble of the ocean – a primal call able to steal the mind from daily clutter and gently deliver it on an uncharted island of inner stillness.

It was to that sound that I awoke my first morning at the beach; I listened intently to the natural melody filtering through the open window and aligned my breathing pattern with the rhythm of the waves until my mind began to wander off. It was a perfect moment of peace – a vague recollection of life in the womb, of warmth, of complete comfort and safety; an awareness of nothing needed beyond the now.

I finally arose and went to sit on the deck overlooking the ocean to drink my first cup of coffee. The scenery surrounding me was nothing short of stunning – a cobalt sky sharply highlighted by puffy white clouds in the west, and the sun splashing the horizon with hues of rose and yellow dripping in the water below; in the distance, seagulls flew in perfect formation, followed by a lone sandpiper madly flapping its wings to keep up with the group of larger birds.

As I stared in awe, my attention was piqued by the glistening shells deposited by the nocturnal high tide and now temporarily exposed as sparkling jewels in a store window; since everyone was still asleep, I dressed quickly and walked down to the shore.

I mindlessly picked up a few of the shells on my path – although many were only broken pieces of the originals, I managed to find a few that were intact. Suddenly I saw one that I found quite interesting; the shell itself was pierced in several places but still whole, and attached to it were all sorts of marine goodies – a small piece of metal, an equally tiny piece of old wood, other smaller shells, and some hard matter I couldn’t identify which glued everything together.

That shell had been around for a while. It had been battered and thrown around several times, holes and scars being proof of its rollercoaster ride; foreign objects had attached themselves to its body, probably weighing it down and ruining some of its original beauty, yet the shell was sturdier and stronger because of their presence.

Even things that we consider damaging or hindering do serve a purpose at times – they might teach us a lesson, slow down our mad rush to nowhere so that we can appreciate what we have at that particular moment, or they might just be there to oddly support us and make us stronger for the next time we get caught in an unfriendly wave.

I took the shell home, washed it and placed it on a well-visible place on my mantel, so that I may remember – next time I feel weighed down by external demands – that if it wasn’t for the extra shield provided by the clutter and the unexpected, the little shell would have been but a broken piece washed in and out by the waves, never to be appreciated and cherished as the magnificent and resilient centerpiece it is.