Me? Judgmental?
We are judging almost all the time. Most of it so automatic, we don’t even notice.
“This is good.”
“That’s annoying.”
“She shouldn’t have said that.”
“I like him.”
“I don’t trust that.”
It happens fast and consistently. In all honesty some judgment is useful. Is it going to rain? Grab a coat. Does this feel unsafe? Pay attention. That’s intelligent discernment not unexamined judgment.
Much of what we call “judgment” is the mind being just plain judge-y. This judgmental habit is formed from past experiences, mirroring behaviors of family and friends, and influenced by stories we didn’t even realize we were absorbing.
From a brain science perspective our brains lean toward a negativity bias, scanning for problems and threats and even manufacturing some where none exist (a predictive process). The brain has a propensity toward this thought behavior because over the eons it has kept us alive.
The challenge for us is to recognize that what once kept us safe can now keep us stuck. This is where mindfulness practices can be helpful.
Mindfulness doesn’t ask us to stop judging - that would be another thing to judge ourselves about. It invites awareness, to notice: “Oh, look at that, a judgment just entered my mental screen.”
And then, with practice, what follows is curiosity instead of certainty. “Huh? Where is that coming from? Is it true? Is it really true? Is this helpful for me or anyone else?” This small reflective pause is where we can gain insight and understanding; understanding the operating system of our own minds.
A powerful mindfulness practice is “beginner’s mind” or “I don’t know mind.” It sounds simple, but it’s not easy. It invites us to loosen our grip on rigid, certainty thinking that places people, places, things and experiences into categories like:
right/wrong
good/bad
like/dislike
us/them
I don’t know mind invites us to stand, ever so briefly, in the mental space of uncertainty. Not out of confusion, but out of the need to consider other possibilities. It is training for a suppleness of mind that is more resilient, capable of leaning into the peaks and valleys of life, not as breakable under crisis.
In the space of beginner’s mind we can come to see with more clarity, react less quickly and ponder with poise.
The following poem is a touching reminder of just how quickly the mind jumps to conclusions and how humbling it can be to see clearly, even a moment too late.
The Cookie Thief
by Valerie Cox
A woman was waiting at an airport one night, with several long hours before her flight. She hunted for a book in the airport shops, bought a bag of cookies and found a place to drop.
She was engrossed in her book but happened to see, that the man sitting beside her, as bold as could be. . .grabbed a cookie or two from the bag in between, which she tried to ignore to avoid a scene.
So she munched the cookies and watched the clock, as the gutsy cookie thief diminished her stock. She was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by, thinking, “If I wasn’t so nice, I would blacken his eye.”
With each cookie she took, he took one too, when only one was left, she wondered what he would do. With a smile on his face, and a nervous laugh, he took the last cookie and broke it in half.
He offered her half, as he ate the other, she snatched it from him and thought… oooh, brother. This guy has some nerve and he’s also rude, why he didn’t even show any gratitude!
She had never known when she had been so galled, and sighed with relief when her flight was called. She gathered her belongings and headed to the gate, refusing to look back at the thieving ingrate.
She boarded the plane, and sank in her seat, then she sought her book, which was almost complete. As she reached in her baggage, she gasped with surprise, there was her bag of cookies, in front of her eyes.
If mine are here, she moaned in despair, the others were his, and he tried to share. Too late to apologize, she realized with grief, that she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief.
May this story nudge your awareness just enough to catch a judgment as it forms, and step into the spacious place of possibility: “I don’t know.”
In-Joy the not-knowing,
Debbie