Living in Manitoba, October is a reminder that winter is approaching and there are jobs to be done. The camper needs putting to bed, the golf clubs need to be put away (a day I always dread), the yard needs cleaning up, and the lawn equipment needs to be stored. Then there's the garage, which in my case often looks like a windstorm has blown through it.
This year was no different. My organized wife makes extensive to-do lists, and cleaning the garage kept appearing on hers. Each time I saw that I would insist that was my job and needed to come off her list. And I had my reasons for biding my time
Yesterday morning I was in the kitchen and noticed the “to do” list. Again, the garage was on it. I was somewhat miffed by that but had this feeling that she might actually do it. Right after lunch I went for a haircut. When I came back an hour later, there she was. Cleaning the garage.
Without saying much, I just went in the house.
Now here is the thing. I had already been thinking about writing a piece on turning judgement to curiosity. I was taught that phrase many years ago when I took my conflict resolution training. And I wanted to explore that.
So despite the hamster wheel going with all kinds of thoughts, I found that I was not getting angry like I would have in the past. Rather I found curiosity kicking in. The question uppermost in my mind was why would she do that?
After an hour or two of very little being said between the two of us, we sat down and had a conversation. She started it by saying she knew I was upset with her. I then asked a simple question. Why did you do that?
She explained that much of the stuff laying around in the garage was gardening stuff. Various tools she had used for gardening. There were plants she had pulled that she wanted to deal with. And on top of that she knew that sweeping the garage created a lot of dust which she knew would bother my lung condition.
That took the wind out of my sails rather quickly. And then she asked why I was so upset. And she understood when I explained my rational for not having done the job yet.
I quickly understood two things. I had been judgemental with her but also with myself.
When I went into the house the judging started. Obviously, I was not happy and the hamster wheel started up. She never listens to me. What my opinion is doesn’t matter. She obviously thinks that I won’t get around to it or am avoiding it. I just don’t matter around here. I am just a useless waste of skin.
But perhaps the biggest lesson for me was recognizing how quickly I had gone from being annoyed about a garage to questioning my own worth. Think about that for a minute. My wife cleans the garage, and somehow my mind manages to conclude that I am a useless waste of skin. That's quite a leap, even by my standards!
But that's what judgement can do. We make assumptions about other people's intentions, and then we make assumptions about what those intentions say about us.
What if, instead of jumping to those conclusions, we simply became curious?
I think there is a life lesson here that extends well beyond a messy garage.
We are all guilty of making judgements. We do it with our spouses, our friends, our neighbours, our colleagues, and sometimes complete strangers. We also do it to ourselves. We see a behaviour or hear a comment and quickly decide what it means without necessarily knowing the whole story.
Curiosity doesn't mean we have to agree with someone. It doesn't mean we excuse behaviour or abandon our own feelings. It simply means we are willing to pause long enough to understand another perspective.
Perhaps the next time I find myself getting frustrated with someone, I should take a breath and ask a different question. Instead of asking myself, "What is wrong with them?" perhaps I should ask, "I wonder what's going on here?"
And rather than simply making assumptions, perhaps I should have a conversation. Ask questions, listen to the answers, and give the other person an opportunity to share their perspective. Curiosity doesn't require us to agree with someone. It requires us to be willing to understand them.
And maybe, just maybe, I should extend that same courtesy to myself.
