8 Minutes of Forgiveness

I recently turned 57. I am a physical media enthusiast, and my collection of vinyl records, books, and DVDs is mildly impressive. Were I never to add to my collections, or were the internet to die forever (I’m still holding out hope), my library would keep me entertained for my remaining days. I also have a closet full of Reyn Spooner aloha shirts. I wear these when I need to dress up. In California in the 21st Century, that’s a rare occasion. They are mostly a beautiful, floral collage occupying half my closet.

I turned 57 on October 8 of this year, and as we do when such events approach, I provided my loved ones a wish list. For many years now my birthday and Christmas lists have unsurprisingly been a collection of vinyl records, books, DVDs, and aloha shirts.

This year, however, I went in a different direction.

I asked for eight minutes of forgiveness.

I knew my mother would need to spend all eight minutes forgiving me for denying her the opportunity to engage her next-level wrapping skills. Others would roll their eyes, something I’m sure to have caused them to do many times over the years. They would all, save for my mom, be grateful I saved them money and a trip to the store.

Our small family gathering was wonderful, and the conversations we had, sparked by my unusual request, were deep and intense, my favorite kind. My mom discovered a loophole, as Laurie and I had our anniversary on October 2, an event that included my wife who had not made a similar abolition. Otherwise, the evening was free of stuff, and full of people and conversation, like a less stressful Thanksgiving.

Whether or not my loved ones actually engaged in eight minutes of forgiveness I’ll never know. I do, however, intend to keep this practice alive. I have faith that somewhere along the way, a positive difference will be made in the world, a difference greater than any other physical gift I could receive.

Here is the letter I sent to my loved ones announcing my request:

Greetings Friends and Family,

Please accept this as my “gift list” for my remaining years, or until such time as I see an amendment is in order. I feel that may be never, but I’ve learned enough to know that nothing is truly permanent. This knowledge, in fact, is a strain in the seed that grew my new “list,” but I’ll get to that in a moment.

No more of your earned or borrowed currency need be spent to purchase an item for me, nor a gift card or cash that I may purchase an item with. No more boxes or wrapping paper or bags or bows shall be used on my behalf. Any time you have the desire to honor me, be it an original desire or one compelled out of cultural obligation, there will be no need to reach for your wallet.

The exception to this would be if you wanted to purchase a card to write a note in, or treat me to a shared cup of coffee or meal. Cards will be accepted by post, but do not include a gift card with them for a coffee or meal. That is a loophole I want to close immediately. You must be present during the coffee or meal if you desire to share such gifts. Let me note here, however, that these cards and shared coffees and/or meals are not my new list. These are just acceptable items for those that feel lost not giving something material. It’s not my desire to induce any anxious feelings.

Now to my new “list”:

Anytime you wish to honor me with a gift, please dedicate eight minutes of your time contemplating forgiveness.

To do so, find a clearance in your schedule on or near the day you wish to share your gift that allows you to sit quietly without interruption. During those eight, quiet minutes, turn your attention inward and search for individuals (or groups of people, like politicians, lawyers, or bad drivers) that you currently harbor negative feelings towards and may have deemed “unforgivable.” The reason(s) for your feeling(s) is immaterial. Don’t forget to include yourself in your search. I would then ask that you consider “pardoning” as many as you can in those eight minutes, forever releasing them from the sentence you’ve imposed upon them. If it helps, imagine a prison door opening in your mind and that person or persons walking out, taking with them the negative feelings that were locked inside with them. Watch them walk away until they all disappear into the distance.

An important note to make is that an apology or act of penance cannot be a condition of their release. They are to be absolved of all wrongs you believe they have committed in the past without any expectation of further (re)payment.

Another important note to make is that I have asked you to consider forgiving these individuals. I understand that this is a big request on my part, and that letting go of the pain, anger, resentment, or any of the other poisonous emotions your grievance has manifested is not easily done. It’s definitely more challenging than ordering me another vinyl record off Amazon. However, I also propose that it is not as difficult as you probably imagine. So, while I hope that you can get to the actual pardon of absolute forgiveness, I will settle for consideration.

The inspiration for my request is thus: there is nothing more capable of radical, whole world improvement than forgiveness. Yes, the whole world. Once you come to understand that indeed all things are connected to all things, then you understand that to damn one is to damn us all. Likewise, to release one is to release us all. It is the sage advice our greatest voices have been imploring us to embody, from Buddha, to Jesus, to Gandhi, to Martin Luther King. The message is always the same: love your neighbor, even the difficult ones. It’s what they did. I am following their lead.

Before we can love many of our neighbors, we must forgive them.

So, I can take care of purchasing my next albums and books and DVDs and aloha shirts. I’m so rich in this life I often can’t believe it, and it has nothing to do with any of my collections of stuff. It has to do with you, and it has to do with the love I have for you and that you share with me. This is the one “collection” I would like to focus my remaining years on growing, the collection of love in the world. Our world.

With Love,

Matthew Dale Jones