Nobody Here Is Judging You
It’s heartwarming to receive these notes from people who tell me how much the blog has meant to them at one time or another. I always respond with a sincere thank you and with the assurance that I hope to be back up and regularly posting very soon.
What I don’t say to those who inquire about The Shower Channel is that I don’t have a clue when or even if I’ll be back as before and that much of the time these days, it’s all I can seem to do to just manage my responses to the various dramas that seem to have shown up for me in recent months. The details aren’t so unusual or unfamiliar: a health crisis, a painful separation from my life partner , financial strain and worry, the stress of major life events and transitions . . . the stuff—the contrast—most of us experience in some form if we hang around on the planet long enough.
Maybe it’s because the details—the ‘what is’ of it all—are so familiar, that I sometimes find myself withdrawing from the offering of any sort of ‘wisdom’ to others. Who wants to hear the troubles I’ve seen, I’ll ask myself. And in particular, who wants to hear the trials and tribulations of a self-proclaimed ‘uplifter,’ a messenger of hope and encouragement, one who shares inspiration from Source? Who even wants to know that he has them?
So I shut up. I do what most of us seem to do at one point or another when life feels like it’s largely out of our control and on a fast slide into the crapper . . . I get quiet—or I rage. I cry or I try to find any excuse to laugh. I complain to anyone who’ll listen. I feel sorry for myself until I can’t stand me anymore. I bury myself in work or any other action that temporarily quiets the tinny, plaintive chatter in my mind. I get down on myself—mostly things our teachers tell us will do no good whatsoever.
Then, every once in a brief, blessed, while . . . I stop trying to be better than I think I am and I relax long enough to hear a familiar, loving reassurance:
Nobody here is judging you—except you.
The instantaneous relief of that simple statement washes over me like a gentle, tropical tide. It rocks me like the baby in need of soothing that I am—that we all are at least some of the time.
The loving voices in my head and heart often don’t say much more than that in those moments except for even simpler affirmations such as “You are loved—as you are and where you are.” “It’s okay to feel the way you feel.” “We’re still here—still with you.” My entire inner and outer being relaxes into the utter ‘yes-ness’ of that knowing.
My conditions, the details of the current contrast between what is and what I wish would be, may not change in any discernible way in that moment or even in the moments that immediately follow. My life may look the same from the outside in for a while yet.
But oh the change within . . . the sweet relief . . . the plush reminder that all is well, no matter what story I’ve gotten stuck on, no matter how far a field my eyes have wandered from the ever-present, ever brightly-beckoning horizon.
Nobody here is judging you—except you—and although we cannot join you in the bashing of you, we can love you through it and we do. We listen, we understand, we wait for you to remember enough about who you really are to let us help you find your way through the trouble you are seeing to the truth that you are always living—whether you can feel it or not—that you are perfect as you are, where you are . . . that nothing more is asked of you than that you know this, too.