Even dog poop
It’s easy to judge people. Comforting too. I do it all the time. I even judge myself for judging.
Wow, could that dog be any less leash trained? Don’t mind me! Just trying to run here, and your dog is taking up the whole walkway, on it’s TEN FOOT LEASH!
All said with a split-second side-eye. I dwell in my angry but superior juices for about five steps.
Tap, tap, tap…
Then…
“Ooh, were we just shaming someone? Shame on you.”
ME? But they were-
“Just trying to have a nice day on the beach, thank you very much. Maybe your priorities aren’t theirs – Oh wait, did they pick up the poop?”
On goes the internal debate, myself and I self-judging, colluding, until I’m ready to gather random dog poop into a paper bag and set it on fire on that person’s doorstep.
Which would require me stalking them to find out where they live.
We could do that!
Then I obligingly feel bad about it.
I shame myself for shaming. That makes it alright. Right?
Shaming is easy, a quick fix. And shaming my shaming? Well, you get the idea.
Moving away from a judgment/shame/self-shame cycle requires heart work, since obviously my head is no help in this one. I mean, that’s who I’m arguing with. I think.
I shine a lens of curiosity on my own reactions. Why does poop piss me off? (pun intended) Is it that I can’t control them? Then… do I need the mindfulness of releasing control (and watching where I walk)?
A true saint would pick up the poop, I tell myself, but I’m no poop fairy, dammit.
Maybe I can find a positive way to verbalize my concern, but I’d have to CATCH them not picking up the poop. I imagine grabbing a bag, picking up the poop, then walking up to them, holding it out, and saying, “Oh, you missed something!”.
But then I’d have to pick up the poop. Ick.
As I dig a bit deeper, I discover that I feel diminished by their transgression. THAT is the work I need. How do I break that cycle?
Gabrielle Bernstein talks about breaking the cycle of judging our judging, for these very reasons. Retaining judgment alienates us, leaving us fearful and small. The first step, she says, is to witness your judging, especially the judging of judging.
Shining forgiveness on that judge, asking what is going on in my heart, and admitting that poop somehow diminishes me is my first step.
A cautious, well-checked step.
The more I practice my meditation, writing, and creative play, the more sensitive I become to this judge of judges, able to pause the self-righteous stories I tell myself.
This doesn’t mean that I don’t see things that could be judged- poop, for example. It means that I am not attached to those judgements, and that I can see the person or situation for what it is, without attaching my own self-worth to it.
Or stepping in it.
Using curiosity to open my feelings seems counterintuitive in the face of a long leash-wielding, poop-leaving person. But that’s exactly when I need it. A deep breath, and a question: What’s under this judgy voice?
Ok, not TOO deep a breath.