I drew this and wrote the commentary 6 years ago today (my birthday, by the way).
Perfect
I had a conversation yesterday with a beautiful and fit woman. The topic? How she gets judged and made fun of for being ‘perfect’. I have had this conversation before with other women as well. It’s almost easier to make fun of that ‘perfect’ person, isn’t it? None of the guilt or shame you feel when laughing at a person who looks funny or talks funny. That would be mean, cruel, hateful, immature, ignorant, and judgmental and we wouldn’t do that, would we?
Better Than
So what is it when the object of your derision or judgment is ‘better’ than you, not worse? What name do you give to your response when the person you are making fun of or cutting down somehow appears to be nicer, smarter, more fit, more thoughtful, more giving, more balanced, more conscientious, more diligent, more loving, more sensitive, wealthier, prettier, sexier, happier?
I have a few words we could use. How about mean, cruel, hateful, immature, ignorant, and judgmental? Perhaps we could add in jealousy and envy for good measure?
All That is Hidden
Let’s just focus on the word ignorant. We will focus on it because it applies to what you know. And guess what, unless you’ve taken the time to care, YOU KNOW NOTHING about any person’s insides. You don’t know the struggle she’s had to get up at 5am most mornings to exercise before the kids are awake. You don’t know about her garish stretchmarks. You don’t know the abuse she had at the hands of her mother. You don’t know the dyslexia she had to overcome in school. You don’t know the prejudice she felt being so tall and skinny and flat chested in 9th grade. You don’t know about the skin condition she has on her back that makes her itch like crazy. You don’t know about how hard she works to stay connected to her husband who is busy all the time. You don’t know about her debilitating fear of flying. In other words, YOU KNOW NOTHING about her interior and very little about her exterior.
Your Quiver
You see the facade and you make fun because she is an easy target. And she is an easy target. But if you can target her for derision, you also have the power to target her for love, compassion, mercy, patience, kindness, gentleness and more. But the truth is, it doesn’t matter who the target is, it matters what the weapon is. Are you aiming to be derisive, judgmental person? Use the arrow of hate. Are you aiming to be a loving and compassionate one? Use the arrow of love. You have both in your quiver, just bring out the right one and shoot. The more you reach for the right arrow, the more that arrow will end up in your hand without you even knowing it.
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Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman, who has a lot of scars.
I drew this and wrote the essay 5 years ago today. I still believe it.
The Ballerina in Your Living Room
Back in the 1990’s I taught Art Appreciation at a Community College in California. I once took my students on a field trip to San Francisco to do some gallery hopping. While in one gallery I noticed a student contemplating a certain Abstract Expressionist painting. I asked her what she was thinking and she said, “I wouldn’t put it in my house.” That statement got me thinking so I gathered up the class and asked how many others had thought that same thing. More than half raised their hands. I then said, “Well guess what? It is unlikely that that painting, or any of the other paintings here, will ever BE in your house. They all have price tags of $100,000.00 to $500,000.00.”
I continued, “Would you go to a Ballet and say, ‘Well, I wouldn’t have that Ballerina in my living room.’? Of course not. You KNOW she is not going to be in your living room. You don’t need to judge her as if she is. Actually, you don’t need to judge her at all. And you don’t need to judge the art in this room. You might enjoy the work more if you judge it less. Now let’s evaluate these paintings again, without the idea of possession and judgment in the way of our enjoyment”. We then walked around talking about the work without judging it good or bad or worthy of being over our couch. We were all much happier without the judgment.
Obsessed with Judging
I believe America is obsessed with judging and I think it’s debilitating to creativity, compassion and happiness. I don’t mean there is not a time to judge. I like talent shows and I don’t mind the judging that has to go on there. We also need to judge behaviors to keep ourselves safe. The law is all about judging, and I am a fan of the law in general. But think about how almost every aspect of American (and probably many other countries’ social life) is filled with non-stop judging.
The Non-Judgmental Tattoo
Let’s take one example, tattoos. I happen to like tattoos, yet I have none of my own. Neither does my wife. I am pretty sure none of my 4 daughters do either, but if they do, they aren’t apparent. But I like tattoos nonetheless. Why? Because they are interesting. And they aren’t mine. They are simply something I witness go by. Part of what I call the passing parade. I can witness, admire, observe, evaluate, investigate, explore, question, wonder, imagine, and otherwise enjoy a tattoo that passes in front of me. But I will unlikely do any of those things if I judge it first. Judging cuts off those things, cuts off happiness. Judgment says good or bad and done. Case is closed.
But why does the case have to be closed? What is so important that I have to render a judgment of a woman’s snake tattoo as she walks by. Why can’t I just enjoy it, experience it? What will happen if I just look at it, explore it, contemplate it’s color, texture, shape, and meaning. Why not ask her about her tattoo? Why not just let it pass without judging it? We will be happier, I know that much.
What other examples can you think of where we tend to judge quickly when there isn’t any real need to judge at all?
Don’t Judge
Here are some tattoos I have found and photographed over the years. It always makes me happy when I find one. See if you can simply explore them without judgment.
It’s not that easy, is it? But it is worth it to escape the debilitating, uncreative, unhappy prison of judgment.
How much does your soul weigh? Your personality? How about your character? Does your Passion weigh anything? What about your intelligence, how heavy is that? Have you ever had your sense of humor weighed at the Doctor’s office? Is there a spot on the medical chart for the weight of your love, commitment, insight, compassion, mercy, tenderness, diligence, patience, opinions, wisdom, spirituality?
Nobody gives a eulogy and talks about a person’s weight. What they will talk about are all those other things mentioned above. Those are the parts of you that will remain.
In the original 2016 post I wrote a longer story about a friend of mine in Russia who got herself in trouble by lying about the scale and the number on it. If you would like to read it, here is the link.
In the Book of Revelation there is a terrible dragon. Here is how it is described: “Then another sign appeared in heaven: an enormous red dragon with seven heads and ten horns and seven crown on its heads.” Rev. 12:3
Well, this isn’t that dragon. This is Antenna, that dragon’s younger sister. She’s not talked about in the bible, probably to preserve the older one’s evil reputation. Antenna isn’t terrible and evil. She’s just trying to make her way in the world.
Her name is Antenna because she was conceived on an antenna. The antenna didn’t fare too well in that tryst and had to be replaced but it still held fond memories for her mum and dad.
Each head also had her own name; Liza, Milly, Ruth, Martha, Alice, Sarah and Dorcas, which they got after their parents watched Seven Brides for Seven Brothers on late night TV.
Antenna had one baby dragon with 3 heads. It was a boy named Laundromat because that is the building on top of which he was conceived. That building fared okay after just a few repairs. The 3 heads were named Babe, Lou and Joe because the father was a big Yankees fan.
Antenna had a hard time early in life because of her older brother’s terrible reputation. She always wanted to defend her brother as just being misunderstood, but it was hard when he basically was responsible for all sorts of cosmic death and destruction wherever he went.
She tried to make up for it by being very nice to everyone she met. That also was not easy since the heads all had their own personalities. Some were quite rude, some were quiet introverts and a couple were just big loudmouths. It was really quite annoying at times but she did the best she could.
She eventually moved to the northern coast of California and lived among the Redwoods where she didn’t look nearly as big and scary to those who came to visit. She worked as a rescue specialist helping to find people lost at sea or in the forest. She retired at age 812 and spent the rest of her years giving tours to Japanese tourists who came to see the big trees and dragon.
Her son Laundromat (Launny for short) became a nano-engineer with a number of high-tech start ups and had 49 patents by the time he was 531.
I drew this and wrote the commentary 8 years ago. It’s even more apropos today.
Well, Aristotle IS one of the fathers of rhetoric so who better to ask a rhetorical question, right?
Death and Maiming
It’s been a tough emotional week for me. Not anything personal in my own life but due to the events in Tucson. I love my country. I have loved it since I was a little kid and learned about George Washington. He was, and still is, in my opinion, the greatest public hero of any age.
I was 8 when JFK was killed. My parents loved him and worked for him. My father even ran for the Senate in 1962, inspired by him.
I was 13 when MLK and RFK were killed. I will never forget walking into a drug store in Darien, Connecticut after MLK was murdered and hearing a man say ‘that N***** deserved it’. I was 13 and as angry as I had ever been at that moment. I didn’t speak up and was ashamed afterwards. Since then I almost always speak up if someone says something grossly offensive.
I was 26 when Reagan was shot. I was not a fan of President Reagan but it had nothing to do with that. I respect my presidents. I start each term with each president filled with hope as if I were a naive young man. Update, 2019 – For the first time ever, I was not able to have that same naive faith after the election of 2016.
I am now 55, will be 56 in a little over a week. It’s weird, it’s almost as if this event in Tucson hurts more than the others. I know Giffords is ‘just’ a congressional representative, not a president or candidate, but it’s almost because of that that it hurts more. She ‘represents’ and it’s as if someone was trying to kill that, not just a person. Add on to that that people who had every reason to believe they were doing something uniquely and gloriously American that day suffered death and injury for no other reason than they wanted to connect to their representative.
The Power of Words
I love rhetoric and the power of words. I love how they can inspire us. I hate how they can turn us on each other. I hate how they can be used by selfish people for selfish ends. I hate how they can mask lies and evil deeds. But I think the power of good in words can overcome that power of evil. And I won’t ever give up believing that, ever.
The napkin above is light, it’s funny, it’s absurd. It’s rhetorical. I had to lighten my emotional load a bit by drawing it. Don’t forget though, that it is not a rhetorical question to ask if we can’t be civil with each other.
