Episode 17: The Power of Forgiveness: The Leadership Practice That Changes Everything

Withholding forgiveness is a long-term tax on your performance. That's the frame Kristina opens with. Every grudge keeps an application running in the background, eating memory you could be using for something else.

If forgiveness isn't approval, what is it?

Most of us learned forgiveness in one of two ways: through religion, or through "forgive and forget." Both can leave the impression that forgiving lets the other person off the hook. Kristina calls forgiveness a "deeply and wonderfully selfish practice." The other person may benefit, but that isn't the goal. The goal is what you are able to put down.

She also names the shadow version. Forgiveness can become a way to skip a hard conversation entirely: I won't confront you, I'll just forgive you, and nothing changes. That isn't release. That's bypassing.

Fred adds that forgiving someone doesn't mean the relationship stays the same. He quotes Nietzsche: the problem isn't the lie, it's that he can't believe the person again. Trust can change even after the anger is gone.

What did a six-month-old have to forgive?

Fred's father left when he was six months old, and as a child Fred believed it was his fault. Emotion, he notes, isn't logical. When he eventually met his father, he didn't particularly like him, but he had already let the anger go so he could be a better father to his own kids. He never said "I forgive you" to his father's face. The forgiveness happened inside him, and that was enough.

He also offers a shortcut: the best way to avoid needing forgiveness is not to take offense in the first place. Sometimes a person is a five-year-old kicking your shin. Sometimes a snake bites because that's what snakes do.

What are the four phrases?

The heart of the episode is Ho'oponopono, a Hawaiian practice of reconciliation that was modernized by Dr. Ihaleakala Hew Len and popularized by Joe Vitale. Kristina tells the story as it's usually told: Hew Len worked with a ward of criminally insane patients and, by reading their files and repeating four phrases, saw the ward eventually close. She's clear that it's a story passed along, and that you may find it hard to believe. Her question is what it costs you to try.

The four phrases are I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you. Here is how she reads each one:

"I'm sorry" acknowledges that something has entered your reality and that you took part in it. Fred puts it this way: we're participants, not victims. "Please forgive me" is asking for help to release it. "Thank you" is gratitude, which she calls the lubricant of life. "I love you" is the most potent of the four, and for Kristina the hardest, because she grew up hearing it used as a weapon: I hurt you, but I love you. She had to reclaim it.

Fred says the practice was part of how he worked through his cancer recovery. It works in any order, he adds, as long as you mean it.

What if you can't say "I love you" at the office?

Kristina offers a translation for anyone who can't picture saying it to a coworker:

• I'm sorry becomes I see my part in this.

• Please forgive me becomes I'm releasing the need to be right.

• Thank you becomes There's something here I can use.

• I love you becomes This doesn't threaten who I am.

Then the method. Bring the friction point to mind and rate how charged it feels from one to ten. Run the sequence once, slowly. Rate it again. Keep going until it drops. Fred suggests doing this before board meetings, annual reviews, or any conversation you're dreading.

Forgiveness, they agree, is never one and done. It's a practice you return to.

Listen to the full episode of The Executive and the Mystic on Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.