Judgement

Judgment. I am full of it. It is astounding just how full of it I am.

There is the every day judgment of other drivers, people in line at the grocery, cyclists who ride two abreast.

Then there is the judgment we heap on the “other” others. Those who vote differently. Who believe in religions that we deem hypocritical. Those who want to keep others out. Those who only want to let certain others in.

So much judgment.

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All too often, I hear myself talking about the idea that when we point a finger at someone else, there are three fingers pointing back at ourselves. Try it. Yea. Three pointing back. In a fist.

Recently, I went on a finger-pointing rampage. Pointing that pointed pointer finger at someone else, yelling, “Where were you? Why aren’t you showing up?”. Not one of my more proud moments.

Funny. This is similar to a phrase my daughter often says to me at night.  “Mommy, don’t leave me.” Well, really, not so funny.

Who, actually, is gone? Who is not showing up? Who is leaving whom? Would those be three fingers pointing back at me? Likely.

And I’m shouting it. And yet I do not hear.

Over and over I’ve read about the idea that the judgment that we put on others is simply a mirror.

And so I ask, “where am I being inconsiderate (like that damned driver who just cut me off)?” “Where am I oblivious to others needs (like the person who is taking way too much time in line paying for their groceries and has absolutely no clue as to the fact that I have to be somewhere!!!)? And that although, I’m being really patient (through gritted teeth – ha!) where can I be a bit more considerate (like those that I’m wishing were riding their bikes single file)?

I need to look at where I am short-sighted, hypocritical and exclusionary, right?

And where am I abandoning myself?

It’s no wonder we’re all so angry, hurling epithets at one another. We’re furious. At ourselves.

The most difficult remedy for us to incorporate into our lives is love. Self love. Self love that then has enough to be extended to others.

If we really. Really. Loved ourselves. And treated ourselves as though we did, we wouldn’t be so angry and hateful toward the “other”. There really aren’t any others. We are the other.

And we all deserve to be loved. No exceptions. None.

Sharon Eisenhauer