WITHHOLDING JUDGMENT IS AN ACT OF LOVE

"So how can I be at home with my children, live a daily creative life, be in the world with others when I want to be with others, feel free inside, and voluntarily be available for those around me?  How can I feel and know I am using my creative energies all the time, absent the thought of sacrifice, guilt or belief I'm giving up something important to me?  One last "how can I."  How can I know what I'm doing, and who I'm being is for the highest good of everyone concerned?  What if, rather than be a good mom, father, partner, friend, or good anything, I see myself as the "elder" to all those in my life?  Not the elder in age, but in awareness, simplicity, humor, sensitive to others, able to lead as an emotional martial artist, victim only to my thoughts of believing I am a victim.  Maybe one more What if.  What if I knew that there is something right about everything?  Don't always know what that right is until minutes, hours, days or weeks later. 

What if I am willing to know, even if I don't believe it all the time, that I am capable of having room for all kinds of people that pass through my life?  Because I question everything, I believe everything.  I notice all the judgments of others that sneak in unaware, and I silently dissolve them so I can be present for everyone, including myself.  I know that personality, and who I think I am, are only the surface layer.  I can "work" on my doubts and fears, waiting for them to go away, or I can recognize I already am what I seek to be,and the doubts and fears can simply be observed, allowed to exist, and given a seat at the table.  It is true that "any withholding of judgment is an act of love,"

The world around me, including family,"friends," and perceived enemies, are only there to help me discover the vast ability we have to stay open to everything, especially people and events that make no sense to us.  This is all a practice.  The end result is practice.  Death is practice.   We can give ourselves permission to be stupid, smart, wise, brilliant, slow, good, bad and above all.....spacious.   Some around me may join me right away and say thank you.  Others may say "huh?"  Both are ok.

NOTHING IS WRONG: I WANT TO PLAY

Justin is seven-years-old and lives in Somerset, England, with his mum and dad and brother. Louise, his mum, emails me weekly, and calls once a month.  How we discovered each other is secondary to what she recently shared with me. 

Louise and her husband Jon, had been frustrated, with their young son Justin, constantly hitting them when he walked by.  He had been doing this for many months with no explanation.  Jon often reacted angrily, and in frustration, would punish seven-year old Justin. 

Over the months, she wondered what she could do to stop his hitting.....which physically hurt.  The family was in conflict with each other over how to treat Justin.  They thought of taking him for psychological help....wanting to fix him and make him better.  Friends suggested that Justin needed professional help.  Louise discovered the answer. The difficulty was not with Justin, but with she and her husband. 

After the last hitting spree, she calmed herself, found her neutral voice, and instead of reacting, she wondered what could be right about this ongoing pattern? 

In a quiet and calm moment, finding her own sense of wonder, she asked Justin, "What can I say or do when you hit me?"   Justin sat back with a sense of relief.   "Your voice. It's angry."
 
"Is there something I can do differently," she asked. "Yes, Play." 

Louise had tears of relief.  She realized that her young son wanted to engage with her and his dad.  He wanted to play.  He wanted his parents to be in the room, when they are there, not in their minds, thinking stuff.  "It was like he was saying, when you are in your mind you are not here."   The hitting stopped.  Now they play. 

"How simple," Louise wrote me.  "He is so in his body, like most children are.  They want to feel their bodies, to move and connect with others.  That is their job.  How so very simple. Louise then turned to her husband, and said, "You want to be appreciated too, and know I appreciate you."   He cried.