Check your lens
Recently, I encountered a blog post by Glennon Doyle Melton at Momastery.com that was so hilarious and held such poignant truth about the dangers of comparing ourselves and our choices (particularly parenting choices) to others. It also offers great wisdom for avoiding the trap of taking others' behaviors personally (hence the post's title: Quit Pointing Your Avocado At Me). As Glennon observed:
"I believe differently now. I know that nobody’s parenting at me and nobody’s living at me. [...] Everybody’s just doing the best she can, mostly.
Other mamas are just weaving together families using what the unique gifts and challenges and interests they have. Just like I am. They are much too joyful and scared and fulfilled and empty and tired and inspired and busy living their brutiful lives to concern themselves too much with what I’m doing."
This is so aligned with the power of the Nurtured Heart Approach® to help parents, therapists, caregivers, teachers, and others to consider, unlock, and unleash the tremendous qualities that each of us show in everyday moments. Qualities that are at once intensely personal and intimately universal, with the NHA® acting as simultaneous microscope and telescope, bringing powerful new lenses to the scene in order to realize the beauty that might be either too far off or too close to really see otherwise (credit to fellow NHA® trainer Shirley Faleer for that telescope/microscope image).
Glennon concluded her post with a striking story which again happens to strongly relate to the Nurtured Heart concept of being the editor, director, and interpreter of the "raw footage" we encounter in each moment. I've reprinted it below:
A Folk Tale About Worlds
A traveler came upon an old farmer hoeing in his field beside the road. Eager to rest his feet, the wanderer hailed the countryman, who seemed happy enough to straighten his back and talk for a moment.
“What sort of people live in the next town?” asked the stranger.
“What were the people like where you’ve come from?” replied the farmer, answering the question with another question.
“They were a bad lot. Troublemakers all, and lazy too. The most selfish people in the world, and not a one of them to be trusted. I’m happy to be leaving the scoundrels.”
“Is that so?” replied the old farmer. “Well, I’m afraid that you’ll find the same sort in the next town.”
Disappointed, the traveler trudged on his way, and the farmer returned to his work.
Some time later another stranger, coming from the same direction, hailed the farmer, and they stopped to talk. “What sort of people live in the next town?” he asked.
“What were the people like where you’ve come from?” replied the farmer once again.
“They were the best people in the world. Hard working, honest, and friendly. I’m sorry to be leaving them.”
“Fear not,” said the farmer. “You’ll find the same sort in the next town.”
***********
We see what we expect to see, what we train ourselves to see.
I'll wrap up this post with a final, related quote; it's a lyric from a song by Sara Groves, called "Loving A Person":
"If we go looking for offense, we're going to find it.
If we go looking for real love, we're going to find it."