Slippery Slope Of Judgement

What is it that makes us think less of 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 viewpoint?

These were questions I had to ask myself, as I saw that I had fallen down the slippery slope of judgment. Looking back, I can laugh. I took my lesson, learned this fundamental personal 
leadership quality and… the outcome is not one I will ever 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. Certainly 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 a number of 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 theater production he was performing in.

After his performance on the Saturday evening 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 arrived at seemed ready for them. More prepared than I was! My life had been very low-key over the past number of years and I was pretty much a teetotller. The refreshments of choice going around the table were certainly not tea. I claimed a seat near the end of the tables, happy to mostly stay out of the action.

The party level continued to rise for a number of hours… eating, drinking, and definitely being merry, and the end of the night was just around the corner. It was kind of like a final party trick when this large drunken man got up and took the center of the floor. He couldn’t be overlooked… staggering and wearing a blazing grin planted beneath his big bald head, and making enough noise for a small army. Really not a pretty sight. He was just steady enough to balance a tall stack of plates in one hand, while he grasped a single one in the other. The Greek restaurant tradition of breaking plates was definitely on the program. He started breaking down through the plates… crack, crack, crack. The shards fell all about him and spread around the floor from his drunken stupor.

He got down to the final single plate. After a dazed look of bewilderment, an even more audacious and stupid grin came upon him. He quickly hoisted the plate over his head, and smash… down it came onto his bare skull. Somewhat dazed and now with a crooked smile, a steady drip of blood started running down the side of his face.

I watched this performance with repulsion… definitely judging him and thinking he was an idiot. Even though I obviously thought I was better than him, I didn’t feel good. I was ready to leave the party.

The next day my brother and I reviewed the previous night. He told me then that this drunken actor 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.

Even though he needed a daybed in the theatre for rests between his performances, he was not giving up. The party was an opportunity to let loose, knowing he was among friends who would not judge him.

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 understanding opened and I sent out compassion, acceptance, and caring. This felt like letting go of pressure. I was offering something worthwhile.

It was many years later that I again crossed paths with this man. I had moved to the city my brother lived in, and as they were friends, we met. Over the coming weeks we found ourselves often at the same gatherings, dinners, and theatre productions. We
found that we actually had a lot in common, and quite liked each other. In fact, we really liked each other.

About a year and a half later, in the style of the true gentleman I had come to know he was, he asked my father if he could ask for my hand in marriage.

Yes, I could clearly recall the evening in the Greek restaurant, just as vividly as I could remember who the real idiot had been. This gentleman was an utter gift to me. One that I would have certainly missed if I had stayed 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 creeping in, it’s a powerful reminder for my personal development. It’s time to ask what it might be concealing. What is it blinding me to? What are the treasures, if only I can get a clear view. They’re there… waiting.

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