Are you sure you’re not the one who’s being judgmental?
There’s a new camper moving in, and I watch him out the window as I sip coffee. I notice his hair (not much) and his clothes (just okay) before it hits me: “You’re judging him!”
Is it possible to watch someone without judgment? Maybe. I don’t find it easy.
Something’s moving under the rig. It’s a little brown blur. Is that a cat? Are cats brown? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a brown cat. No. This is a puppy! It’s a puppy, and it’s adorable. The man pats it affectionately. Apparently he’s a nice guy. I berate myself for thinking otherwise.
He’s just parked his truck. It’s blocking part of the road. Red flag! Red flag! There’s plenty of room to park it closer to his camper and out of the way. Only a you-know-what would park like that. I congratulate myself on the intuition. I knew he’d be a problem.
I don’t know the guy. I’ve only known of him for ten minutes. But I quickly move him from bad to good to bad again in my mind’s filing cabinets. It’s instinctive. Friend or foe? Comforting presence or thorn? Trustworthy neighbor, or not?
I used to be wounded when people made snap judgments about me. “How could you?” I’d wonder. “You don’t even know me.” Now my indignation feels judgy right back. They had a right to their first impressions.
A first impression is pattern recognition, that’s all. It was never designed to tell the whole story.