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Author/Athlete/Professional
Speaker "Think of yourself as an athlete. I guarantee you it will change the way you walk, the way you work, and the decisions you make about leadership, teamwork, and success."- MBN |
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You probably find at least one person in your organization irritating, annoying, or downright despicable. You know who I mean: The person who interrupts you or gossips behind your back or chats all day on email or sniffles, snorts and sneezes near your desk or had the audacity to ask you if you've ever considered cosmetic surgery. Your irritation might have grown over time, so the very sight of this person makes your jaw clench. "I just can't stand her," you might say to friends. Or, "I don't know why he did that. I would never do that." Or, "I find that behavior unforgivable." Maybe you've fired such people. But for times when dismissal is not an option -- or not the right option -- I'm offering an alternative: a way to stop feeling annoyed, critical, judgmental, blaming, and angry. It's called forgiveness. I'm not proposing forgiving and forgetting. (Who has control over what we remember?) I'm not talking about condoning the behavior. (If the behavior were okay, there would be nothing to forgive.) Nor am I concerned with forgiveness only in response to major injuries or betrayals. I'm recommending everyday forgiveness: a practical, pragmatic view of the world in which everyone is given some slack. Forgiveness doesn't rule out heart-to-heart talks in which you confront the offender. You can forgive and still establish boundaries, expectations, and performance and conduct standards. It doesn't even rule out dismissals; you can forgive someone and still say goodbye. Forgiveness simply involves finding compassion for the offender. It requires remembering that we all have faults, foibles, insecurities, anxieties. It results in freedom: for the forgiver. Whether or not you discuss the issue with your colleague, you become free from resentment -- which, as you may have noticed, is painful. You also set a tone for others. When, as a leader, you forgive, you implicitly establish a climate of compassion, a place where everyone feels free to try new things, make mistakes -- and relax. As President of the National Speakers Association/Washington, D.C. Area, I have deliberately instilled a spirit of forgiveness on our board, on our Leadership Council, and, I hope, among our members. Since I wrote a book about forgiveness, I can joke that I am a "professional forgiver" -- and in this way reassure people that they can come to me with problems, challenges -- and mistakes. More importantly, I admit my own mistakes, often through a process I call Leadership Lessons. When I forget to ask someone's opinion; or give too much responsibility to a new volunteer, who promptly quits; or send a hurried email that unintentionally sounds harsh, I present these mistakes to the board in the context of a Leadership Lesson. It becomes an opportunity for all of us to learn from my mistake. I apologize to the parties in question, so I model that behavior as well, but most important, I think, is that I'm establishing an atmosphere in which both risks and mistakes are normal, expected occurrences. I do not grovel for my peers' forgiveness. But I do expect it, frankly, because I know my valuable contributions far outweigh my goofs, and because we've established trust and camaraderie. The Leadership Lesson simply offers us all a way to learn from mistakes and move on. My route to teaching everyday, ordinary forgiveness in the workplace was dramatic and extraordinary: I forgave the man who molested me when I was a teenager. It was this life-changing transformation that stimulated my curiosity about the power of forgiveness, and led me to wonder: How, as a leader, might I instill a spirit of forgiveness in my business, and in my professional organization? I was a 14-year-old swimmer when my coach started molesting me. Bruce was 25, and a trusted mentor and friend. He took advantage of my innocence and adoration, easing his hand inside my sweatpants while I sat frozen in fear and confusion on the car seat next to him. About twenty-five years later, Bruce called and asked me to forgive him. By this time I knew that what happened was not an affair, as he had characterized it, but statutory rape. So I said no. I was furious. I was wary. I thought, Forgiveness is on his agenda, not mine. A few weeks later, I turned forty, and this question occurred to me: Am I going to go through the next forty years being bitter over something that happened in my teens? Maybe forgiveness should be on my agenda, I thought. Maybe I could lay down my burden of anger. Maybe, rather than remain forever entrenched in the victim role, I could take responsibility for healing myself. Something has to give, I thought, and maybe that something is me. I called Bruce, saying that "some sort of peace or reconciliation or forgiveness might be possible," adding bitterly, "but I don't see how." That call marked the beginning of a six-month conversation that I came to think of as my "year of forgiving dangerously." During this time, Bruce listened to me, apologized again, absorbed a lot of my rage, and answered my questions. (Turns out I was molested by a very nice man.) We exchanged dozens of heartfelt (angry, grieving, apologetic, cautious, grateful) letters. We talked on the phone many times. We met in person twice. Ultimately I did forgive him. Then I said goodbye and walked away from a new adult relationship that had become surprisingly tender and fulfilling. I am no longer angry with Bruce. Better yet, I have learned to cultivate compassion for others: people who disappoint me, people who disgust me, even those who lie to me or steal from me, in the workplace and beyond. I now forgive all the time: colleagues, friends, neighbors, doctors, tailgaters, telemarketers -- and myself. Through reading, research, interviews, and my own daily practice of forgiveness, I've learned how and why to forgive people for offenses large and small. I have found freedom from my own critical mind, my own tendency to judge and blame. And I have come up with some essential keys to forgiveness and freedom: 1) Awareness: Remember Who Hurt You and How The first defense against pain is denial: it didn't happen, or it wasn't important, or it didn't affect me, or they didn't mean it, and therefore I don't have to deal with it. Often we don't want to think about our own feelings, so we simply distance ourselves from the person or the situation. Yet forgiveness cannot take place unless one decides who one is forgiving, and what one is forgiving that person for. What happened? How did you feel about it, then and now? Who was responsible? What were the consequences? How did it change you? What decisions did you make about your life or yourself as a result of this experience? Consider the woman who arrives late to work, missing your important meeting. Imagine that you have mentored her, grooming her to move up in your organization -- and she repays you with this unexplained slap in the face. The natural tendency is to feel angry, disappointed, or even betrayed, especially if she repeatedly breaks her promises. Over time, your feelings might deepen into resentment, distrust, or even hate. But try asking yourself instead: How did her behavior affect you personally? Why exactly was her commitment important to you? Did her absence somehow reflect poorly on you? Does it remind you of past betrayals by family, friends, or colleagues? Are you uncomfortable with the prospect of confronting her directly, telling her how you feel and what you want? It can be painful to assess how someone's behavior affected us. Blame and anger are far easier. But for forgiveness to be even remotely possible, we must begin, I believe, with awareness of exactly who hurt us, and how. 2) Validation: Talk to a Sympathetic Listener We are a species of story-tellers. It's through talking and listening that we grow, heal, and understand ourselves and each other. After becoming aware of what happened -- or as part of that process -- you can benefit from sharing your story with someone else. This simple act of talking, and feeling heard, can help ease the burden of anger. If the offender will listen sympathetically, that's ideal. If the offender will go so far as to apologize for his or her actions (or omissions), so much the better! But don't wait for an apology. You don't need someone to admit wrongdoing in order to get past it. Friends, therapists, support groups, email discussion groups, or other sympathetic people can validate that something hurtful happened; that it was not your imagination; that you're not wrong to be enraged or afraid or grieving or simply wounded. (Usually, with workplace offenses, it's best to tell someone who does not work with you. Otherwise, you risk being accused of gossip or backbiting -- and you might say something you regret.) 3) Compassion: Seek the Humanity in Others People hurt others because they themselves are hurting -- or confused or ignorant. Hence a person who wounds someone else, whether deliberately or not, is a candidate for compassion. Even trivial offenders qualify. The colleague who teases you about your clothes or your nose probably feels insecure about her own clothes or nose, or is jealous of your salary, or never felt loved by Mom. The colleague who promises to attend your meeting, but doesn't, might be ill. Her child might be ill. She might be struggling with the impending death of a parent -- or the death of a romance, or the death of a dream -- and have difficulty rolling out of bed. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow said, "If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each person's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility." In other words: Behind every jerk there's a sad story. You might or might not ever know that sad story. But you can be assured there is one. People with happy home lives and high self-esteem do not betray others intentionally. Consider another office annoyance: the sniffler/snorter/sneezer. One might reasonably think: Why the heck doesn't he get a tissue, get better manners, get away from me? But keep in mind: It's not comfortable to be congested and probably headachy too. People who suffer from allergies are suffering. Whatever the circumstances: there are some. There are reasons people steal your ideas or take your parking place or neglect to send you a wedding invitation. I take this radical stance: forgiveness is advisable even if offenders never admit culpability, never offer reparations of any kind. Even if they don't admit that they hurt you, or pretend the incident never happened. Even if they blame you, or won't talk to you, or have long since died. Forgive when you're unsure, or afraid, or resentful, or wanting to exact revenge. Forgive when the other person doesn't apologize, or doesn't apologize correctly. Forgive them for that: for their inability, unwillingness, stubbornness, fear. 4) Humility: Reflect on Your Own Faults and Failings Consider again the hypothetical colleague's betrayal. Now ask yourself: Have you ever promised to do something, then failed to do it? Have you ever offered support, then failed to deliver it? All of us have hurt and betrayed others, whether through insensitivity, misguided intentions, or malicious acts. If you find the courage to take stock of your own faults and failings, you'll begin to feel less victimized, and less different from the offender. Kabir, the ancient Sufi poet, puts it this way: "We are all struggling. None of us has gone far. Let your arrogance go and take a look inside." Humility helps place your injuries into context, locating them somewhere in the broad range of human experience. "Love your crooked neighbor with your crooked heart," W. H. Auden advised. Then, once we get in touch with our own "crooked hearts," the question arises: Can we forgive ourselves? 5) Self-Forgiveness: Give Yourself a Break Self-forgiveness is a demonstration of compassion for the person who needs it most. It's perhaps the most important aspect of forgiveness, since many of us are more critical of ourselves than we are of anyone else. Let's imagine an executive who is particularly incensed at the colleague who missed his meeting. It's likely that this man can't forgive himself -- for missing an important meeting at his child's school, for promising to do something and not following through, for being chronically late, or for overreacting with anger that borders on abuse when his employees frustrate him. If only he could forgive himself for these things, he might be more willing to cut his colleague a little slack! Exactly how does one forgive oneself? The first four keys -- awareness, validation, compassion, and humility work here as well. Now that I have learned to forgive myself, I sleep better at night, no longer torturing myself with my failures. I apologize more easily, because I feel less defensive. I'm more forgiving of others, because I don't hold any of us to impossibly high standards. What a relief! In my speakers' association -- and with my speaking clients and writing colleagues -- I now feel a tremendous freedom to be myself: courageous, talented, and honest, yes, but also flawed: too abrupt sometimes, or too stubborn. It's self-forgiveness that frees me from chronic self-criticism, and from worrying what others will think. As leaders, one of the most important things we can do is forgive ourselves: openly, without embarrassment or shame. Whether through sharing Leadership Lessons or simply through a self-deprecating sense of humor, we can create a culture of compassion, a place where everyone is expected to be real, be human, and be forgiven. Awareness, validation, compassion, humility, and self-forgiveness are keys that free us from dragging around old gripes and grudges. We must still choose whom we will mentor, with whom we will spend social time, and even where we work. We may still choose to confront and attempt to change disruptive or dysfunctional behaviors -- in ourselves and others. But all of those decisions are separate from the decision to forgive. When forgiveness becomes a daily habit, we become free: to listen, to understand, to accept, and to see our common humanity. This is what freedom looks like: a place beyond ego, where we realize that what other people are doing is not really about us at all. Things that had seemed unforgivable affronts to our dignity and self-respect become pitiable, but no longer personal. We feel injured and insulted and offended and betrayed less often, and with less self-righteous indignation. In that process we become wiser, more compassionate leaders. I now look at difficult people, in the workplace and beyond, as "forgiveness opportunities." Any time I'm starting to feel judgmental, I ask myself, "Can I forgive this person?" Just asking that question, I find, helps me shift from blame to compassion and moves me closer to this answer: "Yes." *** Mariah Burton Nelson, a former professional basketball player, speaks about leadership, success, and forgiveness to associations and corporations. Mariah's latest book is The Unburdened Heart: Five Keys to Forgiveness and Freedom (HarperSanFrancisco 2000). To contact Mariah, call 703/276-8323 or write to her at Mariah@MariahBurtonNelson.com Home © 2000-2002
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