Really? My Hebrew isn't fluent, but how striking to juxtapose a concrete term like heshbon, meaning a bill or account, next to the abstract nefesh, referring to soul. It’s Elul, the month before the high holidays, and this is a topic Meryll thought might be appropriate for me to discuss at Congregation Rodef Shalom in Denver. I submit it would have been more appropriate for Meryll.
Nevertheless, I tried -- for a month. I tried to search my soul for all the things I did wrong. Yes, I facebook-stalked to check out my son’s potential date (he’s 26 and there’s no excuse). I dragged my daughter to Mall of America (which we both dislike) when we both know shopping online is so much better. They have forgiven me.
Truly, this past year has been so joyous and exhuberant in terms of the connections that Meryll and I have made with friends, family and our wonderful readers that whenever I try to turn myself inside out, all I can find is deep appreciation and happiness.
My husband rarely tells me that I’ve offended him. I assume it’s because I rarely offend him. He surprised me recently by relating something that I did that upset him. Immediately, I took umbrage. This is the “I can be more offended than you” strategy. And what was my crime? soliciting advice. Then I stepped back and saw the situation through his eyes. My point of view seemed perfectly valid until I pictured him doing to me exactly what I had done to him. My hair would have stood on end. So this takes us back to the Driver-pedestrian problem described in the June 10, 2014 blog. I am baffled by how hard it is to keep other people’s sensibilities in mind when mine are so readily apparent to me.
So I need to do heshbon hanefesh, but, even with a Ph.D. in Psychology, this is pretty hard. Frankly, my extrospection is better than my introspection. I can be blind and hurt the people I love without even knowing. It’s especially easy in this Minnesota Nice place where people will not admit they are offended.
My father had a solution for this dilemma. Every year since I remember,he would ask our forgiveness before Yom Kippur for “anything he might have done to hurt us.” I know that this happens in lots of families, but the most remarkable aspect of that ritual was how respected I felt as a little girl having a grown-up ask me for forgiveness. Sometimes I would wait a moment or two before replying just to savor the feeling of being powerful.
Maybe this is the best I can do -- to ask forgiveness in this general manner even though I’ve no clue what I did wrong.
Before closing therapy with a client, I ask about any moments that they felt offended or misunderstood by me. We talk that through and I ask their forgiveness. Not a bad strategy for my family and loved ones as well.
And to all of you out there reading this blog, what I really want to say is thank you for your support, love and attention this year, and please keep encouraging people to read our book. But this is not a National Book Award acceptance speech. So I will say the words that need to be said.
Please forgive me for anything I did intentionally or unintentionally that was hurtful to you in any way. I will continue working on my heshbon hanefesh. May the Force be with you.