Slippery Slope Of Judgement

What is it that makes us look down on someone or ‘think we are better than’… even for a moment? Have we seen life through their eyes? Do we have even an inkling of what life looks like from their perspective?

These were questions I had to ask myself, as I realized I had fallen down the slippery slope of judgment. In hindsight, I can laugh. I took my lesson, learned this fundamental personal 
leadership quality and… the outcome is not one I will soon forget!

It was during my ‘hippy years’. You know those days of peace, love and rock n’ roll. My motto was ‘live and let live’ and that in itself makes my speedy ability to judge that much more ironic. Undoubtedly it was time I learned a lesson.

Having just moved out of a religious commune, I headed north to visit one of my brothers. I loved him dearly and hadn’t seen him for about three years. We were to have a couple of wonderful days together catching up. He was an actor and I was looking forward to seeing the stage production he was performing in.

After his show on the Saturday night we were to attend a party with his fellow actors. It was the birthday of one of the actresses from the cast, and about 40 actors and crew members were meeting to celebrate with her.

It was a somewhat energetic group of revellers, and the Greek restaurant we descended on seemed ready for them. More prepared than I was! My life had been very low-key over the past couple of years and I was basically a teetotller. The drinks of choice going around the table were certainly not tea. I chose a seat near the end of the tables, happy to largely stay out of the action.

The party grew in energy for a number of hours… eating, drinking, and certainly being merry, and the end of the night was drawing close. It was kind of like a final party trick when this hefty drunken speciman got up and took the center of the floor. He couldn’t be missed… weaving and wearing a big stupid grin plastered beneath his large bald head, and making enough noise for a small army. Certainly not a guy you’d take home to your parents. He was just steady enough to balance an enormous stack of plates in one hand, while he grabbed a single one in the other. The Greek restaurant tradition of smashing plates was no doubt on the program. He started smashing down through the plates… crack, crack, crack. The ceramic fell all about him and spread around the floor from his drunken shuffle.

He had broken all but a final single plate. After a slight look of bewilderment, an even more audacious and stupid grin broke out on his face. He quickly hoisted the plate over his head, and smash… down it came onto his naked skull. Somewhat dazed and now with a jagged smile, a steady drip of blood started running down the side of his face.

I stared at this performance with repulsion… definitely judging him and thinking he was as stupid as he looked. Even though I obviously thought I was better than him, I didn’t feel good. I was ready to go home.

The next day my brother and I reassessed the party. He told me then that this drunken guy was one of his dearest friends. He had cancer and had been undergoing chemotherapy, hence the bald head. He’d been bravely going on, determined not to let it interfere with his career.

Allthough he required a daybed in the theatre for rests between his performances, he was not giving in. The party was a chance to let loose, knowing he was among understanding friends.

Well… he had been mostly among friends that night. I admitted that I was the one who had been the idiot, not him. The judgments fell away. My heart opened and I sent out compassion, acceptance, and caring. This felt like letting go of pressure. I was offering something meaningful.

It was about 10 years later that I again met with this man. I had moved to the city my brother lived in, and as they were friends, we again saw one another. Over the coming months we found ourselves frequently at the same gatherings, brunches, and opening night productions. We
found that we actually shared a lot in common, and quite liked each other. In fact, we really liked one another.

About a year and a half later, in the style of the true gentleman I now understood him to be, he asked my dad if he could take my hand in marriage.

Yes, I could vividly recall the night in the Greek restaurant, just as vividly as I could remember who the real idiot had been. This man was a total gift to me. One that I would have definitely overlooked if I had remained blindly in judgment. Fortunately I took a chance with the belief that he was a loving human being.

Within the year we shared our vows at a wonderful wedding in a park in the mountains, and the reception… definitely not at a Greek restaurant!

Whenever I feel judgment glazing my view, it’s a potent reminder for my personal development. It’s time to ask what it might be hiding. What is it blinding me to? What are the riches, if only I can get to the other side. They’re there… waiting.

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