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There is in our small, rural town, a nasty little man who has lived a nasty little life. For me, this man personifies the challenge of unconditional, universal forgiveness imposed upon me by my spiritual path.

Here’s the thing. It is easy enough for me to imagine God forgiving this man for all the wrongs which I perceive his doing and having done, because, well, God is God, to whom forgiveness comes easily, right, and besides, if I allow God to forgive this man, then it is more likely, isn’t it, that God will see fit to forgive me for whatever wrongs I have done and am doing.

But that’s not enough. Unless I can forgive the man, then my perceiving God’s forgiving him is phony.

The Gospels Teacher asked his disciples, “Who do you say I am?” I understand that question to be asking each of us as seekers, “Who do I say I am?” That is, we see only what we believe ourselves to be. When Peter responded to the Gospels Teacher, “I say you are the Christ,” the Teacher knew that, by his answer, Peter was indicating that somewhere within he had acknowledged and accepted the concept that he is himself the Christ, that we are all the Christ, that the Divine and Infinite and Eternal One truly is Infinite. Just so, the Teacher replied, “That very Awareness is the crux of my Teaching, my Church”.

So, the question to me remains, Can I look upon my neighbor, this nasty little man, and see Christ, and see Krishna, and see Buddha, and see the Divine and Infinite and Eternal One … and see my very Self ? Can I look upon him and be Aware? Can I look upon him and perceive, with Ibn ‘Arabi, “We are not we, we are He without we”?

The “veil” – the Cloud of Unknowing – hides Awareness from the egoic self, the me-self which, I confess, feels particularly good and righteous vis-à-vis this nasty little fellow. The me-self does not want to see this fellow Aware-ly. No, the me-self much prefers perceiving him as little and nasty, for in doing so I perceive myself as better, much better, than he. I make my me-self feel taller by cutting off his nasty little head.

So, the question again is, Can I see past the veil, through the Cloud, beyond the nasty little man-ness, to the Real? And the answer is, Of course I can. It is not really a matter of, Can I, is it? Rather, it is a matter of, Will I? And if not, why not?

To the egoic me-self, the potential cost inherent in that question, the potential cost of seeing not “me”, not “him”, but Christ, Krishna, the Divine One, is immense.

It is that cost which makes the whole thing terrifying. And somehow the ego has convinced me that that cost is greater than the cost of perceiving my neighbor as a nasty little man, which cost is, clearly, a life lived as a separate, separative, egoic "me", a life lived in fear of poverty, of disease, of abandonment, of loneliness, of insecurity, of death. Surely, the ego whines, that price, bad as it may seem, is preferable to … what? Here, I notice that the ego never quite finishes the sentence. Why? Because it knows that its completing that sentence will cost it my allegiance, so instead, at that point in the sentence, it brings up thoughts of the nasty little man, and if not that, then some such, and I am distracted. Once again, the ego wins. Phew, it says to itself, that was close.

That’s why all the Teachers seem to me to be urging us with such insistence, Do not allow yourself to become distracted. Stay focused. Keep asking yourself the question, Can I look upon my brother, upon my neighbor, upon my village’s very own nasty little miscreant, and see Krishna, and see Christ, and see Buddha, and see the Divine One, and see my Very Self? Can I? And if not, why not?

Interesting question.

I would suggest that ultimately, the very asking “oneself” is the problem. So long as I maintain “myself” as opposed to “another”, there will be miscreants and nasty little men in my life. Nasty little men give “meaning to my life”, however unpleasant some of those moments in my life may be. Afterall – I am in a dual universe, one from which I derive pleasure, and it is only because of its duality that I also derive its opposite, dis-pleasure. Can’t have one without the other, though there was a time in my life when I thought I could beat the system, and find only “pleasure”. God set up the rules to maintain the duality, and I am stuck with it, so long as I think I am an “I am Nancy”.

I submit therefore, that forgiving is only a step along the way – we need to forgive only so long as there is something or another to forgive, and that is the source of all our problems. Frankly, I don’t think God forgives, because God is not separate, and therefore, cannot forgive anything, because there is not anything other than God, from God’s perspective. It’s rather like forgiving one’s self. If you observe yourself when you are forgiving yourself, you will experience love, in its simplest and probably purest form.

I believe we get something from this separation, in part because the dance has been set up that way to perpetuate the dance. After all, if we all stopped dancing, there would no longer be a dance, no? We get pleasure, not only direct pleasure, but pleasure derived from being “better” than another, from knowing more than another, from being angry at another’s thoughtlessness or bad behavior, even, probably, from forgiving another, unless we are VERY careful. The underbelly of this pleasure, of course, is that it perpetuates “bad”, frequently under the guise of “good”. After all, forgiving another implies that the other “needs” forgiveness, no? In other words, is “bad”, whereas I am “good” by being forgiving. And I am the one who is therefore, responsible for that moment or conscious conceptualization of both the "good" and the "bad", no?

So, I would suggest that there is no way around being annoyed at nasty little men, so long as I consider myself to be another human being. And possibly, trying to be otherwise, results in neurotic behavior, more often than not, because we are trying to be something other than what we are at the physical level. Perhaps understanding this concept liberates us and frees us from much of our self-imposed struggles? It seems to me therefore, that annoyance is inevitable, and that we are programmed, at the cellular level, to instinctively react to unpleasant situations that impinge on our comfort, safety, and preservation. This is not something we can forgive or change, this is something that perpetuates the dance, and our pleasure and suffering experienced in that dance is also inevitable. So long as I consider myself to be another human being. Perhaps the better question to ask is, why would I want to leave the dance? Or why wouldn't I?