Jump for joy
Uplift others
Love yourself
You got this.
Those who spend their time
looking for faults in others usually make
no time to correct their own.
—Art Jonak
Judgmental: a negative word to describe someone who often rushes to judgment without reason. The adjective “judgmental” describes someone who forms lots of opinions—usually harsh or critical ones—about lots of people. Judgmental types are not open-minded or easygoing.
Mean People SUCK!
I received my first nasty reader phone message a few years back. It was quite a shock because the feedback I had been getting since becoming publisher of Natural Awakenings Long Island had always been wonderful. Readers had sent me emails, left voicemails, and posted Facebook messages saying how much they enjoyed the magazine. The message—which, honestly, is a cowardly way to confront someone—went something like this, “I don’t believe in all this quackery (referring to advertisers in my magazine for yoga and meditation studios). He continued, “These centers are teaching communism.” He went on (and on, and on) elaborating, and, in doing so, he eventually admitted he was “unsure what any of the advertisers actually do,” thereby confessing that he was spewing opinions not based on any knowledge or fact.
He also complained that the advertisers “just want to make money,” which I thought was funny because of course they do. Isn’t that the reason we love America—or at least one of the reasons—because as a capitalist society we all have the ability to earn a fair living? Based on his tone, he should have been all for this concept. Isn’t it actually a beautiful thing when our financial goals are tied into the betterment and health of our fellow man? Yet, this gentleman judged and spewed negativity on a subject he knew nothing about, and did it with an embarrassing amount of authority.
Humans judge—often harshly. It isn’t enough that we judge, we then spew that judgmental negativity with absolute authority. I don’t care how evolved you are, you know we all do it. Just one look at Facebook and you see strong opinions on subjects people know little or nothing about.
I am not innocent, I do it, too. It’s . . . well, like I said, human. I am not sure how to stop judging people; I haven’t figured that out yet. But it is very easy to stop verbalizing that judgment. Yup, it’s simple. Just shut up! (LOL H) not really, but sort of yeah, really. Simply pause before you speak. Determine if what you are saying is positive or uplifting to someone or, heck, consider if it is even factual. Trust me, I don’t always do this myself. If you are at my daughter’s lacrosse game or my son’s wrestling match, you may have heard me saying to a friend, “What is wrong with that referee?” (or that mom or that coach). Yes, I am judging. I want to stop judging, it’s annoying, even to me (ain’t nobody got time for that!). I am also positive our judging others verbally annoys the people around us. How about you? Do you want to stop the annoying back-and-forth arguments you have with folks on Facebook or at dinner parties that often starts with some form of judgment? If so, I may have a way to help.
I attended a seminar given by a contemporary thought leader, Panache Desai, and his response to anyone who makes a statement that he disagreed with was brilliant! He told us that if someone were to say something that you don’t agree with, then you say out loud, “That is right!” while in your head you say . . . for you. So if someone says to me, “You eat meat? I could never do that, it is murder!” I can say, “That’s right!” and in my head I can say . . . for you. Someone says in that know-it-all-tone, “You know, kids have to be committed to just one sport at this age” (yes, people said this to me when my daughter was twelve and was—gasp—still playing three sports). In the past, I would defend her, myself, our decision, and the benefits of various sports. Now I realize that wastes too much energy. So instead, I whip out, “That’s right!” out loud and then in my head . . . for you. What a great tool! This allows you to respect the journey of others without accepting that journey as your own. It also allows you to walk away from judgment and the act of being judged. It works in the reverse, too. Someone may tell me a decision they have made and I wholeheartedly disagree I don’t have to say so. I can simply say, “That’s right!” aloud, and in my head . . . for you.
The nasty caller was right in one respect because, at some point in that tirade, he said he was entitled to his opinion. The month of July we celebrate how wonderful and blessed our life is as Americans. We can add freedom of speech to the list of our blessings. Yet I challenge all of us to be even more conscious Americans, and to think before we speak. Pause and ask yourself, “Why am I saying this? What does it serve?”
Recognize daily, that what is good for you may not be good for others (and vice versa). Thus, the nasty gentleman who left that raging voicemail could have instead looked at the magazine and said, “That is right!” . . . for those Commies. 
Reflections
WHO DO YOU FIND YOU ARGUE WITH? PERHAPS INCORPORATE A LITTLE “THAT’S GREAT” INTO THOSE ENCOUNTERS. TRY IT OUT AND JOURNAL THAT EXPERIENCE.
You wouldn’t worry so much about what others think
of you if you realized how seldom they do.
—Eleanor Roosevelt
Self-absorbed: Preoccupied with one’s own feelings, interests, or situation.
In most areas of the country, July is a month of vacations, holiday time, and exposing yourself to active pursuits. This could mean gardening, visiting beach towns, camping, and even more adventurous endeavors like trapeze, surfing, and CrossFit. Someone reading this might say, “Trapeze? Surfing? Just getting my half-naked body on a beach each summer is adventure enough!”
I wonder why we think that. When I was a kid, I would have been the first one on that trapeze or surfboard, and my bathing suit was simply a means to have summer fun. It was often a “hand-me-down,” either too big or too small. I never cared because swimsuit was simply a conduit to all the adventure that was waiting for me, whether it was a beach, pool, sprinkler, or the Slip ’n Slide. (Which probably really should have been called Slip ’n Stitch because we all ended up with a laceration or two!)
What changed? What stops us now? Forget trapeze and bikinis; visually I can see what makes that a tough leap. But what keeps us chatting with other adults by a pool in the sweltering heat when all we really want to do is yell “CANNONBALL!” and jump in? What causes “inaction”? Sometimes, the answer is honest enough at first glance—money, time, and lack of interest. Okay, that’s fair, but is it the true reason you don’t get involved in more activities?
I was asked to join a kickball league once by my friend Liz. I said, “No, sorry, too busy.” Then I watched on Facebook as photos and statuses were posted, not about the scores or who failed to make a catch, but instead I clicked through images of women bonding, having fun, and laughing their asses off. When I was asked to join again this year, I explained that nothing had changed for me, I still didn’t have time and I might miss a few games, but if that was okay, then I was in. I would play with the team BWB—short for Babes with Balls. It was only when I heard the name that I put two and two together and realized that what I didn’t have last year, and what kept me from playing wasn’t time—it was balls. Literally! I didn’t have balls.
This year, though, I had identified and overcome what had really stopped me in the past: Fear of what I would look like on that field! Fear that others may think I wasn’t good at the sport, or that I would cause a game-losing error. Can you imagine? Truth was I hadn’t kicked a kickball since 1979. Forget about kicking one, how about catching one of those huge balls thirty-five years later? My mind raced with more fears of “what if.” What if I looked stupid? What if I caused all the outs? Here I was, an adult raising two children and running my own business and a household, yet I was scared of what my friends and strangers would think if I caused outs in kickball? Seriously, when I look at this in print I wonder if I need some professional help. 
The only thing that kept me from the shrink’s couch was the fact I knew I was not alone! You don’t have to look further than the changing rooms near the swimsuits at Athleta to know that. Hearing women ask, “Does this make my butt look too big or my boobs look too small?” It’s evident most women care what other people think. Instead of saying, “I will be playing volleyball or swimming on the beach. Who’s gonna be able to see my butt with all my activity?” Or saying something even better, like, “Who cares what people think?” Perhaps the freedom to do this comes with the ability to realize no one is thinking about you! While I agree this executive function of caring that one doesn’t look like an ass in public can sometimes serve us well in our decision-making process, (drunken Christmas parties anyone?) but for the most part this thought process is keeping us from a truly aware and experience-filled and, yup, I will say it, an inspired adult life.
First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt was controversial for her time because of her outspokenness, particularly her stance on racial issues. She advocated for expanded roles for women in the workplace, and the civil rights of African Americans and Asian Americans. While politicians and their spouses are typically hyperaware of their public approval ratings, Roosevelt didn’t care what people thought about her. She says that’s because she was acutely aware that “people were seldom thinking about her.” Can I get an amen? This is so hard to grasp, especially in the narcissistic age of Facebook and selfies, but the truth is people are rarely thinking of us!
I will take it even one step further: if you are playing kickball, paddle boarding or, like me, are wearing a bathing suit that exposes more dimples than a Shirley Temple movie, then what people see is confidence—and that is hotter, more alluring, and attention-getting than tight abs and kickball skills. Besides, trust me (and Eleanor) when I say this: you would not care what people thought about you if you realized how seldom they are thinking about you.
This month, ask yourself, What’s holding me back from experiencing new athletic and healthy adventures? If you feel the honest answer is, I will look like a jerk, too fat, too silly, too ____________________, then ask yourself this question: “To whom?” You will “Look too ______________
______________________________ to whom?” Then remind yourself (firmly if you have to) that no one is thinking about you (or your Shirley Temple dimply ass! u). Rather than standing around the pool at a party in the oppressive summer heat gabbing, this summer take a running start, leap into that glorious water, and yell at the top of your lungs, “CANNONBALL!”
Reflections
LIST THE NAMES OF PEOPLE WHO YOU THINK MAY BE JUDGING YOU, STARTING WITH YOUR OWN NAME.*
*Cross the names below yours off the list and you are left with only you. Those other folks, they are busy living their own life, they aren’t thinking about you.
As I walked out the door toward
the gate that would lead to my freedom,
I knew that if I didn’t leave my
bitterness and hatred behind,
I’d still be in prison.
—Nelson Mandela
Prison: A state of confinement or captivity.
I was in prison for four days. Before you go thinking I am some sort of ex-convict, let me explain. One day, my niece and I went out surfing on my beach, which is located at the end of my block. I was excited to take her on a regular surfboard, and I could use my new eight-foot, stand-up paddle surfboard. I saw a small wave, not even a foot high, and we began paddling out to where the wave would break. There was only one other guy in the water, a man roughly ten years older than me. I smiled at him and said, “Good morning!”
He said, “Really? You are not going to surf right here, are you? Can’t you go somewhere else? I mean it’s kinda my wave.” I was so shocked by this attitude I almost fell off my board. I looked around for cameras. Was I being Punked or was a Candid Camera crew hiding in the ocean? This guy wasn’t really telling a woman and a sixteen-year-old beginner surfer not to surf “his wave” was he? And What wave? I thought. It’s barely a foot high! He continued to complain that my teaching her could interfere with his surfing or that my paddle board—which was smaller than his surfboard—might “hold an advantage in catching a wave.” There we were, in this huge ocean, just the three of us, and before the first wave rolled through he wanted us to leave. Not only did he want us to leave, he demanded it! I have seen thirty surfers in that same surf break in peeling, five-foot high waves figure out ways to share the wave. Yet he wanted the water all to himself.
Calmly, I reminded him, “This is God’s ocean,” and then less calmly, I asked, “Really? You are going to argue with me over a one-foot wave?” There we were in this beautiful, serene ocean about to throw down. I went at him. I wish I could say I practiced what I preached—illustrated some patience, tried to avoid judging, or turned the other cheek—but I didn’t. I told him: 1) He didn’t live in Long Beach (we all know each other here) so he could go surf another break if he had a problem with my niece; and 2) He was an awful person ruining what should have been a beautiful day shared by two people who were using surfing to bridge the age gap; and 3) He was an ASSHOLE! This last point seemed most rewarding.
But then, feeling uncomfortable by the vibe he was throwing out, I eventually paddled to a different break. To do so, I had to pull my niece out of the water and walk her somewhere else; it was silly and I was pissed! Super, super, shaking pissed! Not just for one day. The anger I felt imprisoned me for many days. I was held captive by it. My fury would not leave, and it consumed me so much that I even stopped paddle surfing for a few days. I would go up to my boardwalk and see a little wave and think, Ah not in the mood. It’s probably pretty apparent to you by now that I was in a self-induced prison. All of my evolved pontificating flew out the window . . . I was seething.
I had to consciously free myself. If I didn’t, I would stay in prison for who knows how long and—get this—that jerk would be my warden!
Are you in prison? If so, who or what is your “warden”? Is there a person in your life that you simply “can’t forgive”?
Perhaps your prison is not ruled by a person that you are angry with but your own body. You have a disease that you face every day, and feeling ill makes you angry. Or maybe you have a disease that you faced and beat. Yet, even knowing that you have been victorious in your battle, you still hold anger against your body—your own cells—for failing you, for not protecting you. You are angry that you had to experience the surgeries or the medical procedures. That anger is your prison. The warden is your disease, your body, your memories, and sometimes your warden is just some strange guy surfing next to you. Cell or stranger, we must consciously free ourselves from the grip that they may hold on us.
Quite often, you don’t even realize you are in prison. It is as if invisible bars surround you and stop you from conscious living. At times our anger is used to self-sabotage with angry self-talk that preaches against any form of self-improvement like, “Well, I am already so heavy, why eat healthfully now?” or “Food labeling is so confusing, I can’t even begin to understand what’s good for me—so pass the Doritos.”
Author and blogger Pam Grout says that she “learned that consciousness creates the material world.” A-MEN! If we want a world without anger, then we must consciously create one. It starts with us. I am not saying don’t feel anger—that’s ridiculous, and makes me angry just reading it. Anger is a necessary emotion, and letting go of anger is even more necessary. Together we must take baby steps each day to rid our lives of lingering anger. We must not let anger own us or, worse, dictate our behavior. Ridding ourselves of anger we hold inside can open us up to endless possibilities.
If Nelson Mandela can forgive his imprisoners so that he was able to live free, maybe it’s time for us to start forgiving.
I hope I see that old surfer again, not so I can tell him off, but so I can tell him, “I am not angry with you.” By doing this, I reinforce my own freedom.
And the truth is I am well aware that my own personal freedom, and the forgiveness I offer him, may also serve another purpose: to illustrate how unevolved he is. And that may also get on his nerves just a little bit and maybe even imprison him! Win, win! 
(What can I say, baby steps, right?)
Reflections
WHO OR WHAT IS HOLDING YOU PRISONER? WHO IS THE WARDEN OF YOUR ANGER? WRITE THEM DOWN*:
*Now consciously release them.