In That Moment Before Judgment

He saw two people approaching,

Man and woman,

Both obese;

They looked so funny with their huge bodies

And ill-fitting clothes

As they waddled along.

And he felt so superior.

And then he was struck by the Gospel of the Moment.

 

There is a moment around which the world turns,

That moment when we first encounter our “other”

A moment so brief it defies measurement

A moment quickly swept away

By the onrush of judgment.

In that blink of time

Before judgment

There is no fear,

No like or hate

Good or bad

Right or wrong.

All there is

Is the “other”

The pure “other.”

 

There is a moment around which the world turns,

That moment when we first encounter our “other”

From the obese people we feel superior to

To the foreigners we fear

To the religious practices we disdain.

Capture that moment

Just before judgment,

For when that moment slips away

The world turns as it always has and always can

To judgment

To the good people and the bad ones

From mere disdain,

To conflict

To discrimination and bigotry,

And, at its worst, to oppression, slavery, death and destruction

Forever justified

By “good judgment”.

 

Capture the moment

Just before judgment.

 

Comments

[Johnawatters]

Barry,

Inspiring, beautiful, poetic.

It encouraged me to stop for a moment in the mad busyiness that was overtaking me this morning and pause for 8 minutes of simple mindfulness practice. I had intended 10, but 8 was a blessing. We are contagious to each other in positive ways; I don't think I would have stopped had it not been for the gift of your blog today. Your poem reminds me of a message at the heart of your work that a Leadership Stand is primarily a shift in being.

The notion of pure encounter, without judgement, reminded me of Pablo Neruda's poem, Keeping Quiet

Keeping Quiet

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth
let’s not speak in any language,
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines,
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victory with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

Pablo Neruda