Judgments and addictions - by Asha Hawkesworth

Judgments and addictions by Asha Hawkesworth
A man (let's call him "Bob") was in town for several days because he had some jobs lined up. Bob's current home is a campsite up on Mt. Hood, and it takes a lot of gas to go back and forth to the mountain, so while he was working, he stayed in town and slept in his truck. One afternoon, in between jobs, Bob stopped in the parking lot of a church he'd been attending so that he could spread out his tools to dry in the sun and paint the bed of his truck. Unfortunately, this innocent activity brought him a lot of attention. The police stopped to ask him what he was doing. Then someone from the church came over, presumably after the neighbors mentioned the activity to her. And before he knew it, Bob found himself beset by well-meaning people who were initially suspicious of his motives in using the empty church parking lot. He is a peaceful and understanding man, so he chose the easiest course: he packed up again and moved along. Is our societal box so firmly drawn that we can't do anything unusual or unexpected without the authorities asking us what we're up to? If Bob couldn't stop in the church parking lot to dry his tools, were could he stop? If a homeless person can't sleep on the sidewalk or a park bench, where should he sleep? If a young man's face is covered in tattoos, does this mean he's dangerous? Or is he just a young man with tattoos on his face? We've created unspoken rules about what is okay and what is not, and if someone breaks any of those rules, we assume that they are a threat somehow. In other words, we form a judgment. By their nature, judgments are neither fair nor accurate. They are assumptions based on our own fears and biases. We all have them. Some of us are more conscious of them than others, but even the enlightened make judgments occasionally. It's the cross we bear for believing that we are separate from one another. Bob is currently "between housing," as they say, and he looks it: a little scruffy, tanned, and unshaven. Showers come few and far between. When most people look at a homeless person, however, they see the things they fear. They see lack, vulnerability, frailty, and failure. In other words, they see the things they do not want, so they work to distance themselves from the person. To succeed, they may imagine that the homeless person just "screwed up" somehow. Or perhaps they're too lazy to work, or they actually like being homeless (an interesting argument). Or perhaps they're just alcoholics or drug addicts, who therefore "deserve" to be homeless. These are all over-simplifications that ignore the basic humanity of the people who are judged. Everyone has a story. Certainly, we have all formed judgments of people before we knew them and found our judgments to be horribly, embarrassingly wrong. In Bob's case, he moved to Oregon from Alaska to be near his daughter. He's actively looking for work and a place to live. He will find it; he is determined. But those who have experience with homeless people know that every story is unique and heartbreaking in its own way. Some homeless people are mentally ill. Some are veterans who can't cope any more. Some are so sick that they lost their job, then their health insurance, and then their homes. They're still sick—and living on the street. And yes, some homeless people have addiction issues. Even in an age of politically correct speech, it's still ok to judge and look down on people who are addicted to drugs or alcohol. Their weakness is laid open for all to see. They are helpless in the face of their own destruction, and we look at them and see FAILURE writ large. We have a hard time loving that which we perceive as "failure," so we in turn have a hard time loving them. But who are we failing to love, really? Can anyone truly say that they have no addictions? How about food? Coffee? TV? Sex, or even computer games? You may say that these are insignificant and pale when compared with a drug or alcohol addiction. But, how so? An uncontrolled food addiction is just as hazardous to your health as a drug addiction is. It could kill you just as easily, and you would probably require a similar level of medical care as any other addict would. Would this make you a bad person? What about people who smoke? Are they bad people because they are physically dependent on a legal substance that may kill them? Some addictions are more acceptable than others, but there is probably one universal truth about them: we hate them, and we tend to hate ourselves for having them. Our addictions make us feel weak and out of control, and we don't like to feel that way. When we see a person with an "unacceptable" addiction, we really see ourselves, and we don't like it. So we take it out on the person in front of us. We judge them as harshly as we judge ourselves. That's what all judgment is, really: self-condemnation. Can we heal judgment? Of course we can; we can heal anything that we truly want to. But we have to be willing to face our self-judgment to do it. In truth, no one, not even God, judges us. We only judge ourselves. Our healing lies in our capacity to forgive ourselves for our perceived weaknesses and frailties, and to get there, we must understand that these traits are not weaknesses and frailties at all. They are just a part of ourselves that we must learn to love, like all the rest. And when we can love that in ourselves, we'll stop judging others. Instead, we can live in a place of compassion, for ourselves and everyone else. This is how we heal the world, one person at a time. Related article: We are One: The world is a reflection of you Leap into forgiveness: An interview with Dan Millman Opening the heart Stuck in judgment ruts Judgments and addictions We are One, but our opinions divide us Coming out of our closets

Judgments and addictions
by Asha Hawkesworth

Mayan calendar

A man (let's call him "Bob") was in town for several days because he had some jobs lined up. Bob's current home is a campsite up on Mt. Hood, and it takes a lot of gas to go back and forth to the mountain, so while he was working, he stayed in town and slept in his truck. One afternoon, in between jobs, Bob stopped in the parking lot of a church he'd been attending so that he could spread out his tools to dry in the sun and paint the bed of his truck. Unfortunately, this innocent activity brought him a lot of attention. The police stopped to ask him what he was doing. Then someone from the church came over, presumably after the neighbors mentioned the activity to her. And before he knew it, Bob found himself beset by well-meaning people who were initially suspicious of his motives in using the empty church parking lot. He is a peaceful and understanding man, so he chose the easiest course: he packed up again and moved along.

Is our societal box so firmly drawn that we can't do anything unusual or unexpected without the authorities asking us what we're up to? If Bob couldn't stop in the church parking lot to dry his tools, were could he stop? If a homeless person can't sleep on the sidewalk or a park bench, where should he sleep? If a young man's face is covered in tattoos, does this mean he's dangerous? Or is he just a young man with tattoos on his face?

We've created unspoken rules about what is okay and what is not, and if someone breaks any of those rules, we assume that they are a threat somehow. In other words, we form a judgment.

By their nature, judgments are neither fair nor accurate. They are assumptions based on our own fears and biases. We all have them. Some of us are more conscious of them than others, but even the enlightened make judgments occasionally. It's the cross we bear for believing that we are separate from one another.

Bob is currently "between housing," as they say, and he looks it: a little scruffy, tanned, and unshaven. Showers come few and far between. When most people look at a homeless person, however, they see the things they fear. They see lack, vulnerability, frailty, and failure. In other words, they see the things they do not want, so they work to distance themselves from the person. To succeed, they may imagine that the homeless person just "screwed up" somehow. Or perhaps they're too lazy to work, or they actually like being homeless (an interesting argument). Or perhaps they're just alcoholics or drug addicts, who therefore "deserve" to be homeless. These are all over-simplifications that ignore the basic humanity of the people who are judged.

Everyone has a story. Certainly, we have all formed judgments of people before we knew them and found our judgments to be horribly, embarrassingly wrong. In Bob's case, he moved to Oregon from Alaska to be near his daughter. He's actively looking for work and a place to live. He will find it; he is determined. But those who have experience with homeless people know that every story is unique and heartbreaking in its own way. Some homeless people are mentally ill. Some are veterans who can't cope any more. Some are so sick that they lost their job, then their health insurance, and then their homes. They're still sick—and living on the street. And yes, some homeless people have addiction issues.

Even in an age of politically correct speech, it's still ok to judge and look down on people who are addicted to drugs or alcohol. Their weakness is laid open for all to see. They are helpless in the face of their own destruction, and we look at them and see FAILURE writ large. We have a hard time loving that which we perceive as "failure," so we in turn have a hard time loving them. But who are we failing to love, really?

Can anyone truly say that they have no addictions? How about food? Coffee? TV? Sex, or even computer games? You may say that these are insignificant and pale when compared with a drug or alcohol addiction. But, how so? An uncontrolled food addiction is just as hazardous to your health as a drug addiction is. It could kill you just as easily, and you would probably require a similar level of medical care as any other addict would. Would this make you a bad person? What about people who smoke? Are they bad people because they are physically dependent on a legal substance that may kill them?

Some addictions are more acceptable than others, but there is probably one universal truth about them: we hate them, and we tend to hate ourselves for having them. Our addictions make us feel weak and out of control, and we don't like to feel that way.

When we see a person with an "unacceptable" addiction, we really see ourselves, and we don't like it. So we take it out on the person in front of us. We judge them as harshly as we judge ourselves. That's what all judgment is, really: self-condemnation.

Can we heal judgment? Of course we can; we can heal anything that we truly want to. But we have to be willing to face our self-judgment to do it. In truth, no one, not even God, judges us. We only judge ourselves. Our healing lies in our capacity to forgive ourselves for our perceived weaknesses and frailties, and to get there, we must understand that these traits are not weaknesses and frailties at all. They are just a part of ourselves that we must learn to love, like all the rest. And when we can love that in ourselves, we'll stop judging others. Instead, we can live in a place of compassion, for ourselves and everyone else. This is how we heal the world, one person at a time.

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