Judge Ye Not, Freaky People!

At my mom’s ashram, they do a purification ceremony every Sunday before service. It is an opportunity to release something in your life that “seems” to stand between one and God. (Sheesh, now that I think about that, it’s a pretty ridiculous notion… that illusions can come between God and God… Oh well, welcome to the sacred waste lands of duality.) I find it almost unbearably charming that every week my beloved mother writes the very same thing on her little piece of paper and with the blessing of the Masters, offers it to the sacred fires. Any guesses as to what that blasted one thing is? Mom? Can I please tell ‘em? For the sake of a good parable… Judgment. Yup. That cunning, sexy ogre in siren’s clothing… It hovers like a thirsty mosquito, on the edge of our consciousness… waiting for us to make the slightest slip from full presence and into an indulgent, masturbatory state of division, assumption, ranking. I realize I just spoke for you… was that presumptuous? Well… Maybe, but I’m gonna stand behind my assertion that you are as hideously judgmental as me and my spiritually inspired, all too human mother. Because where there is ego, there is judgment. And if I have unfairly pigeonholed you, I apologize and maybe you can skip merrily down the page to the place where the prose get coated with rainbow sprinkles and marshmallow crème sauce. I bring it up because I have been hyper aware of my habits of “ranking” myself in relation to others. I am pretty embarrassed to say this out loud… but it’s the stinging truth… so… I toss it in the shimmering air, release it like a flock of white doves falling upward into Heaven’s arms. According to my judgmental mind, there are three classes of people (and probably sub-classes within the more general classes). #1~ Those who are “above” me~ meaning more spiritually advanced, successful, creative, hip, savory, peaceful, expressive, confident, etc. My way of relating to this elite group is to become submissive, softer spoken and very interested. I yearn for them to SEE me and like me and MAYBE even accept me as “one of them”… God, does this make me want to puke… #2~ Those who are equal to me. Buddies. Amongst my inspired, inspiring, mostly awake equals, I generally feel very relaxed and sfree to be me~ goofy, deep, honest, wild, lonely, scared, dreamy, etc. #3~ Those who are below me. Meaning they aren’t as enlightened, fun, healthy, attractive, etc. With “them” I PRETEND to be accepting, but underneath that cheap candy coated façade, I am domineering, self righteous, conceited or just downright bored. Isn’t that repulsive? It sure does get in the way of seeing and communing with our All Pervading Peek-A-Boo Freak. But I am practicing vigilantly to set myself free from that bunk game again and again and again. Just like my ritual paper burning mama… My soul-sister-girl-friend back in Oaktown, Dara, recently listened to a Carolyn Myss recording that rocked her world. She told me that Carolyn Myss spoke of the invitation to see every single person that the currents of Grace carry into our lives as an opportunity for communion, for learning, for purification of Self. Which of course requires a sincere relinquishment of judgment. And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, for a concrete, real time example! I hitchhiked to Hanalei yesterday afternoon so I could hit the farmer’s market and stock up on papayas and these beautiful purple sweet potatoes that I’ve been dreaming of making soup out of. I thought that every ride down Kauai’s heavenly highway would be simply tremulous with overt mysticism (you know like synchronicities and inspiring conversations and stuff). But yesterday, I was picked up by a woman who I quickly ranked “below” me. (God, I feel so ashamed to admit this to you!) Her car was a pretty sweet ride. Some kind of high end S.U.V. But inside, it was trashed. Mother of young children trashed. I immediately noticed her iPhone, whose face was as cracked as an insane asylum, and it was pumping out hard core electric dance music. Her toddler son was strapped in his car seat in the back. I turned around and said hello to him… and immediately flooded with an inexplicable sense of heaviness. Energetically, he seemed to be pretty well burdened. His mama was young and speedy. She reminded me of someone I might have met at a club in my early twenties when I was rolling on ecstasy and therefore smitten by the beauty and perfection of all things…and hence less discerning… and she would have been sloppy drunk and not very interesting, stimulating or deep, but I was too high to care and just relishing unconditionally witnessing her BE her divine, inebriated self. She dominated the conversation the whole time, which included her confession that she is an avid user of those new fangled little bottles of “5 hour energy”. Ah-ha! That explains why her gears were grinding so hard. She handed me the empty bottle of the one she had recently thrown back, which I studied with keen fascination. From behind her dark shades and thumping beats, she told me that she was twenty seven, had gone to design school in San Francisco but had resorted to starting a housecleaning business in order to survive on Kauai. Her daughter, age four was just starting preschool. She and the daddy were in the middle of a separation. (Like two thirds of the blasted population… honestly, have you noticed that? So many break-ups. Which if you want to know my expert LMN-OPinion, it’s because right now, the collective consciousness is birthing itself into an unprecedented crystallization of Self, a radical involution.) On one hand, I felt a sincere reverence for her strength as a young mother of two, doing what she needed to do to feed and shelter her munchy-kins. On the other hand… I could feel a visceral undercurrent of emotional malnourishment in her and her now sleeping son. She was clearly doing her best… and I perceived her best to be creating an unwieldy mess. It probably illuminated my own childhood wounding. Why did I give her my phone number when she dropped me off??? She asked for it… and I found it hard to say no. Frown. But I certainly don’t want to hang out with her just for shits and giggles. No way. God? Why did you send her to me, me to her? Was it just so that I’d have the blessed opportunity to forgive her for being what I perceived to be an emotionally unavailable mother? To forgive my mother for showing up that way in the past? To forgive the emotionally unavailable mother dormant, yet still alive somewhere within my very own self? Maybe… And if I forgive “hard enough”… will I be able to know God more fully? God… Please, grant me the Grace to look upon her and myself as One in your Holy All Pervading Light. Please shed light on the dark, moldy corners of my nightmare bound consciousness. May I know only Love within ALL. Amen. P.S.~ Just for the record, she was so generous, too… she drove past her destination to drop me at the market… and she even offered to pick me up after I shopped! (which I politely declined…)

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