Last week was Easter. For Christians, it’s the season of atonement, forgiveness, and renewal. Even if you don’t follow that tradition and you simply feel some kinship with a source greater than yourself, you likely understand forgiveness at its most fundamental level. It has nothing to do with the other person. It has everything to do with you finding your peace.

So why, when I look around the world right now, do I hear those words so rarely? I forgive you. When did they become almost extinct?

A few weeks ago, I learned second-hand that someone I know has held a grudge against me. For something I said. Forty years ago. Apparently, I had offered an opinion he disagreed with. And for that crime, he permanently barred me from his life. When he finally admitted this and, no it was not to me, he defended his actions plainly. He wasn’t religious, felt no compunction to forgive, and was perfectly content carrying grudges for every person who had ever wronged him. A long list, it seems.

I’ll be honest. I always thought forgiveness was reserved for actions. Stealing, cheating, betrayal, cruelty. Not opinions. Not the audacity of thinking differently. And I won’t pretend a small, uncharitable thought didn’t cross my mind about what it means when a man decides a woman had no business holding a view in the first place.

But here’s what struck me most: forty years ago, this man was simply ahead of his time.

Because that’s exactly the place we all seem to live now.

Christians and non-Christians, secular and faithful alike. We have become so polarized that holding an opinion has become a label. And we do not forgive labels. We collect them, weaponize them, and build walls with them. Permanent ones.

You know that feeling when you’re in a room with someone defending a label? My energy constricts. My heart shrinks. My head starts to ache. I scan for the nearest exit. Because I am desperately seeking anyone who is heart-open, grudge-free, and genuinely curious about the world.

Here’s what I know about opinions. They are not always facts. They are often feelings. And the truly grounded among us recognize that feelings are valid human reactions belonging entirely to the person experiencing them.

You’ll notice this newsletter is literally called Opinions, Opinions. You are free, warmly invited even, to disagree with me. Many of you have. Not one of you, as far as I know, has held it against me. For decades.

How does one actually forgive?

First: it is not easy, and it does not happen on a schedule. Some things take as long as they take. Give yourself that grace.

Second: forgiveness is not erasure. You don’t have to forget. The goal is to neutralize the poison, not to erase the memory. Releasing a grudge doesn’t mean pretending nothing happened. It means choosing not to let it occupy prime real estate in your nervous system any longer.

Third: think of forgiveness as clearing. You are making room. Gunk out, goodness in. Genuine goodness, however you define it, cannot move into a space that is stuffed, stale, and full of old ugly.

And if that still sounds like too much, start smaller:

• Name it. Write down what you’re holding. Seeing it on paper shrinks its power.
• Ask who it’s costing. Not them. You. Your sleep, your energy, your joy.
• Find one true thing. Not about them. About yourself. What did you learn? What boundary became clear?
• Try a small release ritual. A walk. A letter you never send. A conversation with someone you trust. Movement helps the body let go of what the mind is still gripping.
• Repeat. Forgiveness rarely happens once. It’s a practice, not an event.

The world is offering us more ugliness than we can possibly absorb right now. We do not need to manufacture more of our own. We can, with one small, quiet act at a time, sweep our own corners clean first. That frees us up to bring something better into the lives of our people: our loved ones, our neighbours, our colleagues.

The beauty we’re all searching for out there? It starts in here. In us.