I had this blog post in mind for a long time, but never quite found the time, or maybe the courage, to write it. I needed a spark, and last evening’s conversation provided exactly that.
So here it is, written in the freshness of the morning, before my rational part wakes up and starts cutting out the personal stuff.
Shade 1: Last evening’s convo
Yesterday I had a conversation with a friend (well, more of a stranger I happened to meet, but that’s another story).
A couple of drinks, the kind of relaxed atmosphere where small talk quickly turns into something deeper.
I asked her: “Have you forgiven everyone?”
She said yes.
Then I asked again: “I mean real forgiveness. The one that comes from the heart, not just from the mouth.”
This time she stayed silent. Her face said more than words.
And then came the hardest question of all: “Have you forgiven yourself?”
She didn’t hesitate: “No. That’s too hard.”
Conversations like this stay with you. They remind you that forgiveness is not abstract. It is concrete, personal, and embodied in the people we meet.
Shade 2: The Mirror
These are difficult days for the world. And the next ones may be harder. Conflicts, noise, divisions, rage. Yet I often think about this: you don’t need to cross the world to proclaim peace. You can embody it in your family, in your neighborhood, in the way you show up on social media. More than that, if you don’t have peace inside you, it is useless.
How can we talk about harmony, even promote it, when we don’t live it ourselves?
How can we expect reconciliation outside, if we cultivate wars within?
And how can we heal the world, if our own hearts are still broken?
Forgiveness always begins with a mirror. Before forgiving anyone else, we need to stand still and face our own reflection. Not the curated version we present to the world, but the raw one: our mistakes, our selfishness, our fear.
And I know, the mirror can be uncomfortable, but it is the only place where true peace begins. Without honesty, forgiveness is a performance, not a transformation.
Shade 3: The Obsession
Forgiveness has always been an obsession for me. Perhaps because I am a mediator (though less than I used to be), and mediation is, at its core, a school of forgiveness.
Still, if I look at my story, there is nothing extraordinary to justify this need. The usual family dynamics, some painful relationships (with my share of faults), and above all, a harshness, often excessive, towards myself. And yet forgiveness keeps knocking on my door.
In the beginning, I searched for reasons, for a purpose behind it all. Then I let go. Maybe obsession is nothing more than the soul’s way of pointing us toward what it cannot release.
Shade 4: The Camino
One of the ways you may look at this inner drive are my Caminos de Santiago (11, so far). Maybe you know, maybe you don’t, but Caminos are, above all, long meditations on forgiveness.
Think about it: the final hug to the statue of Saint James is nothing but an embrace of love, towards others and towards yourself.
The Cruz de Hierro, on the French Way, teaches you to leave behind what you no longer need, to walk lighter.
And when you reach the tomb of the apostle at the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, the original ritual (which few practice, by the way) should be this:
- to ask forgiveness for your sins,
- to ask forgiveness for all the pain you have caused,
- to ask for heaven’s mercy on those who hurt you the most (the maximum love for the maximum hate).
The hardest part is, understandably, the last one. And yet it is the one that makes the Camino more than just a pilgrimage: it makes it a school of the heart.
Shade 5: The Heart
Some time ago, I had a conversation with a Chinese medicine master. He told me that too much heart can hurt you. “Metal is lung, heart is fire. If there is too much metal, the fire dies. If there is too much fire, the metal melts”. He may have a point. You know, the dichotomy heart/lung, in Chinese medicine, represents the rhythm of existence.
Still, my instinct disagrees. Heart (Ren Mai 17 – my favorite point. Maybe one day I’ll post about it -) is a dantien. The second one. And a dantien is a space you can fill endlessly. And infinite sea with no ceiling.
Perhaps the truth lies somewhere in between: the heart can be hurt, but it can also expand beyond measure. It depends on how we choose to inhabit it.
Shade 6: The Judgment
For those who read this blog (and even for those who don’t), you know I am Christian. Which means I believe one day I will be judged for everything I have done. And no, I don’t believe in reincarnation. So this is my only shot.
Will I see my entire life unfold in a single instant, as some say happens before judgment (after all, time is only a human construct)? Will I be the one to judge myself, but through God’s eyes? I don’t know. It is all speculation, and without an NDE (a near death experience), even more so.
But one thing I feel.
Most Christians think of judgment in terms of actions. Some also in terms of thoughts. But I am convinced that our hearts will be examined as well. Will they be found open or closed? Full or empty? Heavy or light?
At the end, the question might be simpler than we think: did we learn how to love?
Shade 7: The Body
The mind can trick itself into believing a wound is closed or doesn’t exist. But the body, unlike the mind, does not lie.
Forgiveness is not only mental or spiritual. It’s physical. A clenched jaw, a knot in the stomach, sleepless nights. All of these are also signs of what we carry. Releasing resentment is not just a decision of the mind, but a process of untying the knots of the body. Sometimes you only know you have forgiven when your body finally exhales.
We speak of “letting go” as a metaphor, but the body shows us it is literal. Muscles soften. Breathing deepens. Forgiveness becomes visible in flesh.
Shade 8: The Puzzle
And what about the “shades” of the title?
Maybe it is simply the different voices of this post, stitched together by my hyperactive mind like fragments of a puzzle.
Maybe it is because forgiveness has so many doors: the forgiveness we give, the forgiveness we receive, and the forgiveness we deny ourselves.
Or maybe, the answer is in the ninth shade
Shade 9: The Silver Path
It took me a long time to realize it, but I understood the hard way that forgiveness is not black and white. It is not a switch, not an instant revelation. It is a path. You think you have done it, but then life shows you there is more to release, more to let go. And so you continue, and continue, and continue. More than black or white, I feel like moving through infinite shades of silver (I guess I can’t use shades of grey for obvious reasons…).
A memory, a smell, a word, and the old wound aches again.
At first, this feels like failure. But I like the reminder that radiance has no limit, and that white itself can always grow brighter.
Bonus Shade: The Gift
Forgiveness is a paradoxical gift. We offer it to others, but in truth, we are offering it to ourselves. We set them free, but the one who breathes again are us. Each act of forgiveness dismantles a prison that was silently built within.
And in the end, it is more than just a good deal.
It may be the most precious exchange we will ever make.
