27/07/2025
๐๐๐๐จ๐ ๐ฟ๐๐ฎ๐จ, ๐๐ฎ ๐ฤ๐๐๐๐ฃ๐ ๐๐จ ๐๐๐๐จ: ๐๐ค ๐๐ค๐ฉ๐๐๐ ๐
๐ช๐๐๐ข๐๐ฃ๐ฉ, ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐๐๐ฉ ๐๐ฉ ๐๐ค
These days, my sฤdhana is simple and yet not easy. I watch my judgments rise and do my best not to feed them. I notice the reflex toward myself and others and pause, rather than reacting. Sometimes I catch myself mid-sentence, and sometimes I don't. I'm paying closer attention, I don't run with it as long, and I stop myself more quickly.
We all judge. It's not a flaw, it's how the human mind works. The thoughts come fast: about ourselves, about others, about how things should be. Often, they land before we even realize it. From early on, we're trained to compare, to analyze, and to decide what's good and what's bad, what's better and what is worse. Judgment is built into how we're taught to think. No wonder it appears so frequently and quickly.
However, there's also the deeper conditioning, the generational patterns absorbed from our families. Some people grew up surrounded by criticism in a family where judgment was a form of interaction, or even a twisted version of care. When that's the air you breathed, it becomes second nature, not necessarily to harm, but simply because it's normal. That's where compassion becomes essential.
We don't always know the stories behind someone's actions or reactions. Patterns can go deep, and we can't interrupt them if we're too busy blaming. Awareness allows us to see more clearly, but only if we remain honest with ourselves.
The real work is not in trying to stop judgment from happening because it will, but in what we do when it does. Do we give it power? Do we spiral into a story, or pause and let it pass? That's where the freedom lives, not in rising above judgment, but in understanding that we don't have to follow every thought that passes through our mind.
One way to live without judgment is in how we speak. We can invite reflection instead of confrontation. However, this only works when it comes from humility, not ego, nor from a need to be right. People can tell the difference. Sincerity is felt.
We don't know what someone else is living. Unless we've walked their path and carried their pain, we can only guess what is going on in their mind. Judgment wants to collapse all that complexity into a single opinion. But compassion slows us down and keeps us open. It reminds us there's always more to the story. My practice is to go back to my center, without shutting down the mind and not letting it run the show either.
Non-judgment isn't passive. It doesn't mean we accept everything or avoid what needs to change. It means staying present with what's real, without rushing to label or fix it. Non-judgment invites us to listen to someone's opinion without taking it as a personal threat and watch our thoughts without unquestioningly believing them.
Non-judgment is what turns reaction into witnessing, control into connection. In contrast, judgment creates a false sense of power, as if we are in control by deciding what's right or wrong. However, that kind of power isolates by separating us from others and our own, more profound truth.
When we catch ourselves mid-judgment and stop, even for just a breath, something inevitably shifts. The nervous system softens as we are no longer bracing. By simply being here, we stop being so harsh with ourselves, and we don't need others to be perfect either. We can sit with discomfort, ours or theirs, without comparing or trying to fix it. That's when we start holding space, because we're learning to hold space for ourselves.
This isn't about lowering our standards. It's about trading criticism for curiosity and perfectionism for presence. Growth doesn't come from shame, and healing doesn't come from harshness. Peace doesn't visit when we're at war with ourselves.
Pataรฑjali, in Yoga Sลซtra 1.33, offers a radical and efficient teaching: maitrฤซ karuแนฤ muditฤ upekแนฃฤแนฤแน sukha duแธฅkha puแนya apuแนya viแนฃayฤแนฤแน bhฤvanฤtaแธฅ cittaprasฤdanam. The mind becomes serene through cultivating friendliness toward the happy, compassion for the suffering, joy for the virtuous, and equanimity toward the unvirtuous. Instead of envy, blame, comparison, and judgment, we're asked to hold each encounter with clarity of heart. That's true yoga. Daily-life yoga is the foundation of steadiness.
From the Advaita Vedฤnta view, judgment belongs to the ego. It divides, this is me, that is not me; this is good, that is bad. The sage doesn't get pulled into those opposites. He remains anchored in Brahman, the unmoving awareness beneath it all. The Hindu scriptures don't shame us for judging. They point us to a more profound truth, inviting us to act with viveka, clear discernment, but not asmitฤ, ego-identification. To see, but not to divide; to respond, not react.
This sฤdhana isn't about banishing judgment entirely. That would be unrealistic. The mind is built to compare, to scan for threat and contrast. It wants to keep us safe. But yoga reminds us that we are not the mind. We are the ones who observe the mind. And every time you catch yourself making a judgment, such as "I'm not good enough," "They're wrong," or "This shouldn't be happening," and you observe it without running with it, something loosens. You're not lost in it anymore. You're aware.
Even when the mind judges itself. "Here I go again, I should know better." You can always come back, because awareness doesn't scold, it simply notices, and in that gentle noticing, we find ourselves returning to clarity, presence and peace.
So, yes, these days, my sฤdhana is to stay aware of the judging mind and not let it have the final word. I catch myself in those old habits and gently return, without shame, to my breath. That's the work. And it's worth it.
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