Judgsicle

It's almost 11 pm; and I had a choice between going to bed, or writing. So, I sit here at my computer, with water and thoughts milling in my head.

Next door, my neighbors are celebrating a birthday in the backyard. They are loud and boisterous. I let the first wave of irritation wash away. I let the negative pass over me. Begrudging them their celebration, no matter how much it's disturbing my train of thought, is beneath me. Judging them because of the drinks they're drinking, and their loud laughter is just plain petty.

Party on dudes.

I think about judgment. The good of it and the bad of it.

And whether our judgments define us.

It is wise to use judgment when assessing new or difficult situations. "Use your best judgment,"they say. Does one buy new clothes one does not need, or does one pay off debt? Will one get more pleasure wearing a new outfit? Of course. Will one get more satisfaction knowing there is less to pay off? No doubt. We can't have our skirt and new furnace too. Decisions need to be made, judgments need to be formed. Sometimes quickly.

Then there is judicial judgment. We count on it's objectivity and fairness, even though at times it rankles our morality. Sometimes judgment sticks in our craw. Sometimes going by the book, by facts alone, bereft of emotion, is necessary. Sometimes, it's not. Emotion is a big part of who we are as human beings. But judgment and emotion don't eat at the same table.

Too much emotion makes judgment, judgmental. It's like going mental. If you're observant, and sometimes even if you're not, you can hear the judgmental in the tone and syntax of statements, aimed to put others in their place.

"Some of us have better things to do."

"That's one hour you can never get back in your life."

"Do you really need to buy another skirt?"

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"Is that all you did this weekend?"

Why does the word "loser" seem to be a silent member of those sentences? Riding the air of those sentences like a churlish fiend, snickering behind its hand, offering us a big bitter bite from the judgsicles he is selling.

Judgmental scrutiny is often aimed at those of us who do not hide. Those of us who put our true selves out there. Sometimes those statements make hiding a safe idea. Maybe putting ourselves out there is not a very wise thing. Not using our best judgment.

I often think about the times I have caught myself being judgmental. They are not my finest moments. Yet, in acknowledging them, I make myself more aware. In being aware, I force myself to be more fair. More objective. I find myself using good judgment the next time. Or the time after that. After all, I am not perfect.

Far from it. :)

So, I pledge that I will serve people fewer judgcicles. Or at lease try. And when they offer them to me, I will politely decline. Yeah. That sounds like a plan.

Splendiferous Cocoon

There comes a time when the line between the possible and impossible must be drawn. A time to know which battles to retreat from and which to take on. There comes a time when a settled peace must reign, in order to restore direction and sanity. A time to let go, and move on. With less luggage, with fewer expectations, with muted longing.

The turmoil that accompanies striving toward a goal, a goal that cannot be attained no matter how many wishes you make, no matter how many visualizations you conjure, no matter how many intentions are good, must cease. And in that moment, you feel your breath coming in more easily; you feel your muscles relax, your mind unclench.

I have been in a cocoon of seething confusion, going through a tumultuous and often painful process of reshaping my life, untying my expectations, letting go of my perceptions of the unfinished and of failure.

I have numbed my senses so that my brain can use all its stores to work out the problem at hand. The problem that we face at crucial junctures in our lives. The question of: what now?

And the answer came slowly but clearly.

Now.

I dumped all the toxins that my heart and mind have been accumulating, and cleared my vision for the road before me.

This might sound very nebulous, but now with my vision cleared, and my mind off its self-imposed manic merry-go-round, I find myself at peace with my decision and with who I am.

And what of me?

I am a person who speaks the truth in the moment even if it makes others uncomfortable. I refuse to feel guilty for their discomfort because it is born from a habit of subterfuge. I have come to understand that most people find it impossible to speak out in the moment, to address the issue at hand. The answer to the real game of Clue has been: behind closed doors, with half truths, gossip and innuendo. The funny thing is that nothing ever is kept secret. All closed doors have an ear attached to them, listening. Listening. I would rather face the person than her back.

In my so called professional career, I have been targeted because of the fact that I will not sugar coat the truth or the situation. I will not bow down in hypocrisy. When the public punishment came, when I became an example to all that speaking your mind carries dire consequences, even in a society that defends freedom of speech and ideology, I knew that my truth hit home. And when my indignation and anger subsided, I realized that I had won. That even when the worst could happen, I was intact. I am intact.

And so is the truth.

So, I am here blogging. Not about a creative venture I have undertaken, or about a silly show I watch to numb my senses, but about survival.

And to give thanks. Thanks to those of you who have taken a moment of your time to come read, and to give me your support and your lovely words. Your very presence in this world gives me hope. Because you are fabulous.

Life goes on, and as I step over the remnants of my cocoon, bringing with me only the feeling of OM, of Zen, of Je m'en fous. I carry your words with me like a talisman.