Forgiveness does not mean

that we do not care

or that the other person is pardoned.

Our forgiving people for what they have done does not mean that they will escape the consequences of their acts. We have forgiven, not pardoned. Understanding cause and effect, we know that those who do wrong will reap the consequences.

So what does our forgiveness accomplish?

In forgiveness, we are spared from having to personally judge and punish the other person. Their fair retribution will be forthcoming; it is not up to us to bring it about. This means we are spared the consequences we would have brought down upon ourselves as a result of our judging and punishing.

In forgiveness, we are freed from holding the desire for revenge in our hearts.

One who forgives strives to let go of anger and hatred. As the Buddha cautioned, to carry anger is like holding a hot coal waiting to throw it at another.

We are the one who gets burned.

It is much easier to start hating 

than it is to stop.

Consider how often friendship and love, or even an acquaintance, have changed into hatred. And how rare it is for hatred to transform back.

Hatred is like the proverbial slippery slope that is easy to slide down, incredibly difficult to climb back up. As we begin to hate, we find reasons to justify our feelings and become convinced we are right to feel as we do.

The other person has done something terrible. We have done nothing.

They are guilty of wrongdoing. We are innocent.

With time, we become attached to our hatred for the person, or the people. To stop our hating, we will need to 1) let go of our attachment to it and 2) either admit that our hatred was unwarranted or that it was warranted, but we were wrong to give in to it.

Since as ordinary beings, we do not like giving up attachments or admitting we were in the wrong, it would indeed be easier to not further develop this terrible habit than to attempt to break it.

After seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching,

discriminatory thoughts and emotions arise,

habits are set, control is lessened,

and suffering increases.

Through our five senses, we take in information about our environment. Ideas are formed and feelings arise. We then begin to discriminate—this I like and want more of, that I don’t and want to go away. Our feelings, impressions, and perceptions are recorded in our memory.

We form habitual ways of reacting to stimuli based on our opinions rather than facts, and from emotions rather than understanding and compassion.

Reacting automatically from habit and emotion, we do not stop to think what the wisest course of action might be. We simply react, unaware that we are losing control over our thoughts, speech, and actions.

The more we fail to exercise control, the more careless we are in what we do and the more mistakes we make. Since our actions were careless and harmed others, our consequences will bring us more suffering.

Chaos is prison.

Freeing the mind for the thoughts we choose through

order is freedom.

Just as an organizational system brings order to a room in disarray, meditative concentration brings order to a mind that is chaotic. While we can tell ourselves that the mind constantly moving is freedom, it is not.

Such a mind is imprisoned.

Those in prison are under the control of others. Told to leave their cells, they leave. Told to stay in their cells, they stay.

A chaotic mind is another form of prison. More subtle. More debilitating.

The chaotic mind cannot go where it chooses. As soon as it tries it is prevented, swept away by different thoughts, including regrets and fears. Even when found, happiness ends all too soon. In the unfocused mind, there is no control, there is no freedom. With the mental order that arises from meditative concentration, the mind can soar wherever it wishes.

Even away from regret and fear.

This truly is freedom. 

Do not fear the arising of negative thoughts.

Fear detecting them too late:

after the word is spoken, the deed committed.

For by then the harm is done.

At some point in our practice, we will reach the level where we, like bodhisattvas, fear causes, not results. But until we reach that level, we work at a lower one where we strive to detect the thought and prevent the action.

An almost instantaneous interaction.

Our thoughts arise with amazing speed and subtlety, and in staggering numbers. The vast majority of them are not even detectable as thoughts by us for they are incredibly slight vibrations. But even the subtlest vibration is a cause that will have a result.

The calmer our mind, the deeper we can go in detecting our thoughts. This is where our cultivation comes in because the sooner we detect our arising thoughts, the better our chances of stopping ourselves from automatically acting upon them, and doing harm.