Some years ago, I was hiking in Ojai, California, when I came upon a crashing waterfall. It pounded against a scattering of boulders that had been polished over time into smooth surfaces. Bright green moss grew between the rocks and long arced branches of white oak trees shaded the area. I gazed at the flowing water, the sound was hypnotic, as my mind and body became still and quiet. I was drawn to get closer to the water. I stepped forward and my feet sunk into a muddy patch of earth up to my
ankles. I stepped back quickly. My feet were drenched up to my socks in mud and I brushed my shoes against a rock, trying to get the clumps of dirt off. How would I continue the rest of the hike like this? I wished I hadn’t stopped to look at the waterfall. The mud had ruined everything. I shouldn’t have been
walking so close to the rocks. I should have known better. I was judging myself for not looking where I was going when I had a vision.
In my mind’s eye, I saw a judge in long black robes, sitting at his bench with a gavel in his hand. With every thought I had, he banged the gavel on his desk and said, “That’s good. Or that’s bad.” Over and over. He was passing judgment on everything I was thinking. It made my head hurt. I felt anxious and I sat down on a large flat rock. My mind was working overtime.
Author Anne Lamott wrote, “My mind is a bad neighborhood I try not to go into alone.”
Judging never ends well and I knew what I had to do. I addressed the judge out loud. “Thanks for your input but I don’t need you right now. Why don’t you go into your chambers, pour yourself a brandy and I’ll call you when I need you?”
He looked disappointed. It was as if I heard him say, “Are you sure? Who’ll let you know if you’re thinking clearly?”
I repeated myself. “Go into your chambers, pour yourself a brandy and I’ll call you when I need you.”
I watched him put down the gavel and walk out of the courtroom. He was gone and so was my anxiety. I took off my socks and I sat for a while. My mind was quiet. All I could hear was the lull of the waterfall, lightly splashing against the rocks. I felt peaceful . . . until my mind began to stray. It bobbed and weaved all over the place. It was like an orangutan, frenetically jumping from tree branch to tree branch, never stopping anywhere. It replayed conversations. Had I said the right thing? I thought about pieces I’d written. Were they good or bad? It felt like I had a committee in my head, judging everything I did or said. Good or bad? Right or wrong?
That was the judge’s cue. The door to the bench opened and he came rushing back in. He was breathless. “Do you need me now?” he said. He grabbed his gavel, getting ready.
“Not now,” I said.
“Are you sure? It looks like you could use a little help.”
“I really don’t,” I said.
And he was gone again.
I don’t know about you but if I let my mind loose, I find myself judging a lot of the time. I think it’s human nature but it’s painful and it leaves me feeling badly about myself. I can’t do everything right, whatever “right” means, but I can become aware of my thoughts and keep bringing myself back to my breath. I can become aware of what I’m thinking and learn about what works for me and what doesn’t. Even though my mind seems to drift naturally into a painful place, I can investigate my thoughts
and I can change my mind and pull it back. It’s simple but it isn’t easy to stop blaming, shaming and judging. When you judge yourself, you’re causing yourself unnecessary harm. When you judge someone else, it doesn’t define who they are. It defines who you are.
I think that when we judge other people, we’re trying to justify our own behavior. We are trying to prove ourselves right when there is no right or wrong. We can punish ourselves endlessly for everything we do, we can feel anxious and fearful, or we can forgive instead, and find some peace and understanding in what feels like an upside down world.
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