At a spiritual retreat, a group of participants and I sat in a Native American sweat lodge. We huddled together, perspiring copiously in the dark hut, with hot steam dripping on our backs and tingling our noses. The leader began the ceremony with a series of chants and prayers. At one point, he entered into a prayer of apology: “Oh, Great Spirit,” he called out loudly, “I'm sorry for not being a better leader, for not making the fire hot enough, and for not respecting You.” He went on to enumerate a lengthy list of his other sins. Then he turned to the group and asked, “Is anyone else here sorry for anything?” Then he waited for more sins to be confessed. And he waited. And he waited.

Finally, one woman called out from the darkness, “We're not that kind of group.” Immediately the group broke into welcome laughter. We were not that kind of group. We had spent an intensive week (and many years) reclaiming our innocence, and the idea of guiltily begging God for forgiveness seemed quite the non sequitur.

Many of us grew up under the influence of the notion that we are all basically evil, bearing the awful burden of original sin that made us guilty just for being born. This means there was something wrong with you before you even had a chance to do something wrong! Such a notion is counterproductive to a healthful spiritual psyche. It keeps us small, needy, owing and controllable by those who profess our guilt. If you buy it, you get to live with it.

There is, of course, another way to look at ourselves. This vision sees us as pure children of God, created, as the Bible says, in God's image and likeness. We have never done anything that could cause us to be separate form God, and we certainly are not guilty for the sins of those who came before us. We are whole, wise and divine, sojourning through an adventure on Earth to rediscover the wonder of the Spirit within us. Yes, we make mistakes. No, we are not evil.

I used to live much of my life apologetically. Somewhere in my mind I labored under the notion that I was a mistake, bothering the world simply by being here. Everyone else had a right to their good, but if anything good happened to me, I was just lucky. I feared that if people found out who I really was, I would be exposed and shunned.

Funny thing is, now that I have worked with thousands of people in individual and group counseling situations, nearly all of them believed there was something wrong with them. I have seen the most attractive and successful people display the lowest self-esteem. Out of the spotlight, they admit that their anxious striving for success was motivated by a need to prove themselves. (A magazine reporter asked Hollywood's top CEOs “What is your biggest fear?” Nearly all of them answered, “That people will discover I don't really know what I am doing.”) If you do not recognize your intrinsic worth, all the accolades you collect will not fill the illusory black hole, but only darken it.

The more you try to protect, defend, prove or explain yourself, the farther you drift from authentic confidence. If someone does not want to accept you, no sales job is sufficient, and if someone accepts you, no sales job is necessary. Likewise, if someone wants to keep you guilty, no apology is acceptable, and if someone is willing to love you, no apology is necessary.

I know of two friends who wanted to break their habit of apologetic living, so they made a pact. When one said, “I'm sorry,” the other replied, “You're not sorry—you're pathetic!” As you can imagine, they broke the habit quickly.

Does unapologetic living mean you are never supposed to say you're sorry? No, it means you dump the attitude of self-diminution. If you make a mistake and inadvertently hurt someone, certainly you might offer a sincere apology; you let him or her know you care and you would not repeat the same error. But then you get on with the joy of loving the person and yourself and celebrating the next moment.

A Zen story tells of two monks who were walking through a forest when they encountered a woman standing at the bank of a stream. She was anxious and afraid to ford the rushing waters. So one of the monks lifted the lady and carried her across the stream. The two monks continued on their way, but the second monk silently fumed for an hour. Finally, he blurted out, “You know it is against the rules of our order to touch a woman!” The other monk calmly answered: “Yes, but I put her down an hour ago. You're still carrying her.”

Guilt and apologetic living are aberrations of a sacred experience called contrition. Contrition is the liberating realization that you have been living out of harmony with your good or that of others. Such awareness is not a cause for self-recrimination, but rejoicing. When you discover your error, you become inspired to live a better way. Some of the greatest saints, teachers and world-change agents have the darkest histories. Yet something happened along their paths that caused them to wake up one morning and resolve, “There must be a better way.”

… The most powerful way to grow beyond apologetic living is to find the blessing in everything, including your mistakes. Adopt the attitude that there is nothing outside the plan for your good and even your biggest “sin” is an integral element of your homecoming. Your mantras are “Thank you for everything” and “Everything serves.” Then your friends can say to you, “You're not sorry—you're passionate.”

 

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This excerpt comes from the Unity House® book Looking In for Number One by Alan Cohen.

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