Fourteen years ago, I attended a question and answer session (called a “mondo”) with John Daido Loori, my beloved Zen teacher.

Because Zen training is so formal and rigorous, these are kind of relaxed, almost social gatherings we Zen students crave.

You can ask a question, and actually…sometimes…kinda get an answer.

Sometimes, there’s even popcorn.

I have no idea what I asked, if anything, but near the end, a woman who had been Daido’s student for many years asked him about how to forgive someone in her life.

And Daido responded: forgive yourself.

It was one of those moments.

After so many years of hearing the most basic yet puzzling of all Zen teachings/koans/whatever you want to call it: You and I are the same thing, but I am not you and you are not me, a light went on.

For me to forgive someone, I must be forgiving.

The only path toward forgiveness of others is forgiving myself.

Why?

Because I cannot give what I do not have.

Because I only hold you to a standard I believe I, myself, can maintain.

While you and I are different people, when it comes to my judgment, I have one pervasive view.

You and I are the same thing.

In that moment, my heart softened, and I thought of all the people I held grudges against (a short but mighty list!) and imagined forgiving myself for all of my gnarly-ness, for being all the ways I wish I weren’t.

Physically Emotionally Psychologically Intellectually

In that moment, I moved into an open space, and something shifted.

And then, I drove home to my baby, Azalea. It wasn’t long before she did something, or was something, that didn’t suit me.

Forgive yourself, forgive yourself, forgive yourself.

I started by forgiving myself for having the thoughts I wished I hadn’t had. Then, for saying the things I wished I hadn’t said.

And then, I felt a little less shame, a little less heat.

I could both of us more clearly.

And I could see, and I continue to see, that to forgive anyone is to cultivate forgiveness.

To delight in anyone or anything is to be delight-ful.

To be the mother I know my daughter deserves is to mother myself, as if I were her.

Which is, of course, the way it is.