Withholding

A will is a forgiveness document.

Advisors like me recognize it first and foremost as a legal instrument, which of course it is. But behind its drafting are years, if not decades, of relationships. In the end, the signed document answers at least three questions: Who is loved? Who is trusted? Who is punished?

In mid-July, I attended a forum on forgiveness in the Swiss Alps. In a workshop titled "Holding the Rift," the facilitator gave each of us a wristband she’d made. As I cupped it in my palms, it occurred to me that giving a gift and granting forgiveness are similar gestures. Both communicate: you deserve this, and I want you to have it. Withheld, the message turns: you don't deserve it.

As a wealth advisor and meditation teacher, I work with families. Their money may be managed by advisors like me, but their relationship with it is deeply personal.

In that workshop, I shared the story of one family where the matriarch's will clearly withheld forgiveness from an adult son. Her assets bypassed him in favor of the 3rd and 4th generations.

When I reviewed the will, I saw a loophole that risked harm to the young beneficiaries. It could be closed but unforgiveness wouldn’t allow it. I watched the family pay lawyers to wrestle with their unforgiveness. And I couldn’t stop it. 

Yes, unforgiveness may contribute to suffering. But withholding is something we do. And what we do, we can stop doing.

After I shared my story in that workshop, I joined the group as we silently contemplated the choices that we’ve made in our own lives. My reflections didn't involve money. Rather, they were simpler:

Whose text or voice message have I ignored? Whose life have I quietly stepped away from? From whom have I withheld forgiveness?