We’ve been hearing a lot about judges lately.
You may assume I’m speaking of the legal variety of judges – those who sit on the United States Supreme Court, for example. The label ‘supreme’ itself reeks of importance, which of course stems from their constitutional power to make the final decision regarding laws in this country. That type of authority demands a lot of attention when a judge on that court steps down and creates a vacancy.
For news on that type of judge, take your pick of political reporting sites.
That’s not the kind of judge I want to discuss, though it was part of the inspiration for this commentary.
While watching the debate over which justices should be appointed to the courts overseeing the American legal system, I began to consider which judges oversee my decision-making systems.
Who have I appointed? Who sits on the panel and makes determinations on how I behave? React? Process my environment? Learn? Grow?
Years ago, I read an excellent book on musicianship and creativity called “A Soprano on Her Head”, by Eloise Ristad. In it, she describes how we performers erect panels of judges in our heads that constantly berate and argue with our creative decisions. These judges are not the kind that guide us to smart decisions. Rather, they are more nefarious. She describes them this way.
You will find these shadowy characters rather easily. They are the figures of authority who impose heavy rules upon you…the ones you keep trying to shove out of the ragged edge of your consciousness, but that hang on with the obstinacy of spoiled children.
While these judges certainly exist in my mind as a creative, they preside over more than just my musical or literary activities . They also hold court in my emotional and mental space as well. They bear down mercilessly when I feel inadequate. They remind me constantly that I should have made more progress. They nod with an ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk locked on their faces when I fail to follow through on a goal.
I can remember several different panels who have served their time on my supreme court. One was particularly harsh in my high school years. This panel adjudicated me as disorganized and a poor leader when I failed miserably as freshman class president. I might hold the record as perhaps the first ever 14-year-old removed from office by a popular uprising. Suffice it to say I agreed with my judges that day, and their judgment has been a hard one to cope with ever since.
Other judges have come and gone, and with time I’ve learned to notice the effects of their proclamations. The problem is that unless I look carefully at why I placed them in authority, I can’t overrule them.
Here’s where the political analogy comes back into play. Much is made of how particular voting patterns affect rulings on the U.S. Supreme Court, leading to conservative or liberal decisions. It stands to reason that I’ve done the same thing in my life. The life decisions I’ve made have everything to do with who was on the court at the time.
If I want better decisions, I need to seat better judges. Ones that don’t break me down emotionally or actively push me toward an inordinate sense of duty while ignoring my deepest needs.
I had a vision recently of my current court. There are some very nice people in my life who don’t know I’ve elevated them to the panel over my life. It’s not their fault at all. Their suggestions were logical, their reasoning sound.
But they weren’t supposed to be on the panel. The judges I elevated were actually reflections of my tendency to accuse myself. That’s not a good strategy.
So, quietly, internally, I ask them to step down. I watch as they take off their robes, lay down their gavels, and walk slowly out of the courtroom of my consciousness.
I remind myself that the only true Judge isn’t dismissive or unfeeling. Not only that, that Judge isn’t in the business of second-guessing every decision in my life. Yes, He knows at times they may not work in my favor, but He lets me come to conclusions without fear of reprisal.
It’s a process for sure. It will take time for me to reset my internal court.
But it’s worth it. I’ll make the changes and learn the lessons I need to learn, to get to the core of my purpose and calling. As they say, to discover the truth and nothing but the truth.
So help me God.
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