I recently came across this photograph of my father. He was about to turn 32 years old,….the same age as my sons are now (they are 30 and 33). He looks like a little boy to me…under that serious hat and coat. When I take a moment to imagine what his life must have been, to try to see him in a different light, I only feel love for him.
I had originally written another post about my father. One that had to do with a recent interaction with my sons. I emailed it to them first (since it had something to do with them as well), and while neither said not to post it, they were both glad when I didn’t. For so many years, the only talk that I ever heard, even out of my own mouth, were words of criticism for the way my father lived, the money he spent, the places that he went (instead of being home), his lack of communication …
I was taught to do this, as most of us were; to judge everything and everyone that comes into our lives. But I know that this is not a natural state, and it is a heavy burden to carry. I still catch myself doing it every day (but the good thing is, I catch myself!). The Dalai Lama once said, “I do not judge the Universe” (and I think that must mean the people, places and events that are a part of this universe as well).
“Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods.” Albert Einstein