I know a woman and her husband who challenged me to really see.
I have lived in DC for 15 years and the place puts on a pretty good Spring. This year has been the most beautiful Spring I can remember. Perhaps because for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, I am really seeing it.
Some friends of mine had a discussion the other day in front of me about whether I was an introvert or extrovert, which was kind of odd given that I was standing right there. In the end, they turned to me for the answer and I said I didn’t know, I was sort of weird hybrid. The weird part they agreed with, but they were not happy that I would not put myself clearly in one camp or the other. But I think it is the truth that I am both. That is probably just one of the many things that makes me “complicated.”
You: Well, that was random. Me. No, no, this is a good segue to today’s chat. You: Segway? Those standing scooter things? What? Me: No, segue, to make a transition smoothly from one topic to another. You: Uhuh…….
The world is easier when we can put things into categories. Often categories have values attached…which may be the whole point of putting things into categories to make the world easier. Given the lack of appropriate ingredient lists & warning labels, we need to make judgement calls: I like this. I don’t like that. That is yucky. That is yummy. That is scary. Oh, super nice, this one will be part of my Happy Place.
Our fellow flesh puppets; man, but life gets easier if we can sort our fellow flesh puppets into tidy canisters…. and those bastards stay in their assigned canisters(!). There are mountains of evolutionary and societal forces that make it such that sorting Flesh Puppets is the go-to behavior. If for some crazy reason you foolishly don’t want to sort humans, you would like to try actually seeing people for who they are without judgment, then you’d best be prepared for the difficult task of pushing back against a mountain…..should you choose to be so foolish.
I am much better about not judging people than I used to be (I attribute this as a by product of the sustained daily random acts of kindness challenge or Damn Hippies. Not sure which). “Much better” most certainly doesn’t mean miraculously awesome, but, yes, much better. Judging others is such an easy behavior to fall into, especially when things aren’t going that well in your world, whether because of current events or grappling with demons from the past.
This last week was *not* a week of prize winning non-judgement. It was a rough week on many fronts and as the week progressed I was aware that the frequency and intensity of the judging mounted. It is quite clear that the worse I feel about myself, the more judging comes spewing forth. As my insecurity, sense of isolation and self-criticism grew, and my sense of personal power, self-worth and world view shrank, the super-sized cargo ship of my judging broke free from it moorings and splashed into the shipping lanes of my life. Collisions everywhere.
What finally turned this around for me and allowed me to tie down that judging juggernaut was running in a 10-mile race.
Running has proven to be such a great place for me to witness my own behavior acted out on a glorious stage where I can plainly see it, especially around judging, whether it is judging of others or judging of myself, typically both intertwined. [Quick note: I am not a good runner. I never will be. There will always be people who completely bury me. The only person I compete against is myself. So none of this is about “winning.”]
Pre-race; it is easy to fall into assessing (judging) others against yourself and vice versa: “Oh, I will so crush that fat guy. Why is he even here?” “Hmm, that athletic woman will be way ahead of me. Don’t even think about her.” “WTF? Why would any one wear something so stupid??” So much judging, so little time. And yet, all this “assessing”/judging is completely useless for what happens next when the race starts with you and thousands, sometimes tens of thousands of your best running buddies. The Fat Guy blows your doors off. The Athletic Woman is somewhere far behind you. You start to think around mile 8 that wearing an outfit like that might be fun. The assumptions I make about these people are always wrong because I know nothing of the circumstances that brought them to this place on this day. The Fat Guy may have lost 100 pounds and trained for this specific race for months. The Athletic Girl may have lost her job this week and stayed up all night with a sick child, on top of her nagging tendinitis. That questionable outfit? Might be running in memory of a friend who loved Questionable Outfits, or simply might think it is fun and if we aren’t out here suffering through these miles to have fun, why the fuck are we out here?
The same is true for training. The guy who blows by you on the path might be doing speed work and on his first 100 yards. The person you zoom by, perhaps finishing a 20 mile run. You never know. I guess while we are at it, the same is true of the people we meet in every context. We never know the circumstances that brought them to this place on this day.
At this point in our journey together, I am sure it comes as no surprise that I have discovered I inflict my harshest judgements on myself. I won’t ask for a show of hands, but I suspect I am not alone. What drives this? Yes, mountains of evolutionary and societal forces prime the sorting and judging game, but what do I bring? For me, judging has its deep roots in a sense of not belonging; a fear that my own self-comparisons will find me lacking; that I am not good enough. Lots more to consider as the layers peel back, but a start.
One of the many powerful lessons running has offered me is the opportunity to witness and ponder my judging, to notice the forms it takes and to find the bruised spot it emanates from. That in turn has given me the chance to create space to step away from harsh words. The reflex is to compare, but, on a good day, I quickly move away from comparisons when the Fat Guy runs by me like an antelope and the Athletic Woman stops to catch her breath as I sail by. The Lady in the Questionable Outfit? Still working on that.
