Who doesn't judge?
Mar 22, 2021
The truth may be (Iet me not sound too judgy by just coming straight out and saying the truth IS), judging is a daily constant and necessary cognitive skill that uses the same mental faculty to decide whether the coffee is strong enough (I do judge harshly when it isn't, don't I?) as it uses to judge whether Jeffery Deaver's short story is worth the $5 it costs on Kindle. And that was just yesterday's first and last judgment of the day. There were hundreds in between.
We weigh, we compare, we assess, we extrapolate based on prior misfires and bulls-eye experiences, and then we decide whether the judgment requires a decision or not. We do this in split seconds and mostly unconsciously. And then we make the call: I don't need to dump the weak coffee; I need to just stop being a snob and take it like medicine for the essential fix it is! Swallow. ... that's a good girl! Because withdrawal headaches are BAD NEWS."
Am I now less judgy for accepting the dark liquid as it came from the pot today? No, I still have my judgment but I got over it.
Whether we want to admit it or not, we judge people too. All of us do. We have scanners that we've built up from the day of our birth and we swipe them along each other's outline like those abominable metal detectors at airport security and ... beep-beep-beep! ... there is a problem: You're too hesitant and indecisive; you're too firm and fast in making a final call; you're not careful enough with your words; you're so edited that I get an incoherent story, like a Die Hard movie with the cuss words bleeped out.
So how should the other person be then? We don't say it in so many words, but until we discover the wonder of the individual's design, our behavior screams: "You should be like me, of course! I know it's kind of hard because I'm fairly spectacular, but let me teach you. If you'll soften your hard head, you'll come around to Me-ville and we'll all be so much happier for it." Right?
That's why the trees. When I understand the true reason why decisions are made on the fly in the Palm-Rose jungle and why they are second-guessed on Boxwood Boulevard, I can judge both the knee-jerk and the "still-on-my-knees-praying-about-it" as strong enough coffee, and then I know when, where, and how to visit the best neck of the woods for each relationship and task. Because of the trees "how I would have done it" stops being an idol. I still want the coffee my way, though. I'm a work in progress.
by Hettie Brittz