Judgment is the Default. Curiosity is the Practice.

Aug 16

When we gather together, there’s something I say (in some way) almost every time: Invite curiosity and compassion — judgment is not needed here.

And the more I think about that invitation, the more radical I realize it actually is.

Because judgment?

Judgment is easy.

We do it all day long.

We judge other people. Their choices. Their lives.

I’ve certainly done my fair share of that.

But the judgment I’m most interested in here is the judgment we turn on ourselves.

And OMG!, do we judge ourselves.

I should be further along by now.

I shouldn’t still feel this way.

Why did I react like that?

Why can’t I just get over this?

Why does my body look like this?

What’s wrong with me?

Yes, I know self-judgment intimately. Maybe you do too.

I have judged myself for most of my life.

And I’ve also spent plenty of years being Judgy McJudgy about everybody else.

I come from an Italian-American family, and listen — I can only speak on behalf of my people — but we can be judgy AF!

Nobody sat tiny Danielle down and said, “Okay, today we’re going to learn how to judge people and ourselves.”

It’s subtler than that.

We absorb it.

From families.

Culture.

School.

Religion.

Authority.

Society.

From all the messages about what’s right and wrong, good and bad, acceptable and unacceptable, what other people will think and who we’re supposed to be.

And somewhere along the way, that natural curiosity we came into the world with starts getting quieter.

My almost four-year-old niece was at our house last weekend.

She grabbed my stainless steel mixing bowls and every wooden spoon she could find and turned my kitchen into her own personal drum set.

She kept banging away and yelling,

“Listen! Listen!”

She was having the time of her life.

She wasn’t wondering whether she was any good.

She wasn’t comparing herself to another toddler drummer on Instagram.

She wasn’t worried if her rhythm was totally off.

She wasn’t standing there thinking,

I really should be better at this by now.

She was playing.

Exploring.

Experimenting.

Curious.

We are born knowing how to do that.

And then somewhere along the way, so many of us learn to replace curiosity with judgment.

We start watching ourselves.

Evaluating ourselves.

Deciding whether what we’re doing, feeling, wanting, needing — even who we are — is right or wrong.

Judgment often begins as protection.

When we've lived through pain, disappointment, trauma, or chronic stress, our nervous systems learn to stay on alert. They scan for what's wrong, what's dangerous, or what needs fixing because that's what once helped us survive.

And sometimes, the thing we decide needs fixing... is us.

So self-judgment isn’t always about being hard on ourselves just for the sake of being hard on ourselves.

Sometimes it’s a nervous system that’s still trying to keep us safe.

The problem is, what protects us in one season of life...

...can quietly keep us stuck in another.

Choosing curiosity is one way we begin to loosen those old protective patterns.

That's why I call curiosity a radical practice.

Judgment is the default. Curiosity is the practice.

Judgment says:

I should know better.

I shouldn’t still be here.

I shouldn’t be feeling this.

I should be handling this differently.

Why can’t I just get it together?

Something is wrong with me.

Judgment slams the door shut.

Curiosity cracks it open.

Curiosity says:

Hmm. What’s happening here?

I wonder why that bothered me so much.

I wonder what I’m feeling.

I wonder what my body is responding to.

I wonder what this part of me might need.

I wonder what else could be true.

Personally, I can feel the difference in my body.

Judgment feels tight.

Closed.

Heavy.

There’s an ick to it.

Curiosity feels spacious.

There’s movement.

Possibility.

An opening.

And the more I practice meeting myself with curiosity instead of judgment, the more I notice it changing how I show up with other people, too.

If my wife and I are having a disagreement and I walk into it convinced that I’m right, she’s wrong, and I need to make her understand my side?

Yeah.

That usually goes about as well as you’d imagine.

But when I can stay curious —

What is she actually trying to tell me?

What am I reacting to?

What am I protecting right now?

What feeling is this bringing up in me?

What might I not be seeing?

Everything changes.

Not because curiosity magically makes conflict disappear.

But because curiosity makes room for connection where judgment makes room for separation.

And then there’s the other part of the practice:

Compassion.

Because curiosity without compassion can still become analysis.

Compassion says:

Whatever I discover here, I’m going to try to meet it with love.

Not shame it.
Not criticize it.
Not immediately try to fix it.

But get curious about it before I judge it.

This is something I’m still practicing.

I am not a person who “healed” and therefore no longer judges herself or anyone else.

Bullshit.

I still catch myself doing it.

The difference is that I catch it more often.

I stay there for less time.

And I bring myself back to curiosity.

Back to compassion.

Back to:

I wonder... and… Isn’t that interesting…

So that’s my invitation for you this week.

Notice the next time you judge yourself.

Don’t judge yourself for judging — just notice it — and don't rush to change it.

Notice what your mind is saying.

Then notice what your body is saying.

Where do you feel the judgment?

Tight chest?

Clenched jaw?

Heavy shoulders?

Restless belly?

Take one slow breath.

Then ask yourself:

I wonder what’s happening here.

What part of me is trying to protect me right now?

What am I feeling?

Isn't that interesting...

You don't have to solve it.

You don't have to fix it.

And you don’t have to judge your experience while you’re experiencing it.

Just notice.

Because every time you choose curiosity over judgment, you're reminding your nervous system that this moment is different from the one that taught you to stay on guard.

One breath.

One moment of curiosity.

One small act of compassion.

That's how we build a new practice.

One moment at a time.

The Superfine Way 💜

— Danielle

P.S. If this reflection resonated with you, I invite you to read the first two in The Superfine Way Series: Everything Is an Invitation and Why I Never Say "Safe Space."