How to Stop Judging Others — and the One Shift That Changes Everything

One closes the heart. The other keeps it open.

I came home from a long trip away to find my houseplants in a sorry state. Some had already perished. I had asked my housekeeper, Patience, to water them while I was gone — and it was obvious they had not received the care I would have given them myself.

I felt the anger stir. That particular kind of anger that usually masks helplessness — the need to become loud so we feel we have some power to change things. But something in me paused. What if something else was going on?

Curiosity is my friend.

I called Patience over and asked gently: "I don't understand what I am seeing. I asked you to water the plants — but it seems they didn't get what they needed. Can you help me?"

She looked at me with amazement. "I did water them," she said. "Exactly as you said."

I walked over and looked more closely — and instantly understood. She had overwatered them completely. They were drowning. And I had never told her how much water to give them.

How grateful I was for that pause. For questioning my own first conclusion before acting on it.

That small story holds the entire difference between judgement and discernment.

Judgement is a final, often harsh conclusion. It labels people or situations as good or bad and solidifies them that way — until what began as a mere opinion hardens into belief. And as you can see, judgement can lead us to believe in a world that does not exist. A world full of painful illusion. This is how we create the very reality we later blame others for. We are that powerful. It is an ego-driven, deeply unconscious process — a way of organising our reality so we never have to look again. We have decided, and the matter is closed.

Discernment is something different. It is the quiet, wise ability to perceive what is actually true — not as a verdict on another person, but as an act of honest understanding. It asks: what is really going on here? Can you help me see what I might be missing? Because I can almost always assume at least one thing: that I am only seeing half of the picture.

Discernment keeps the heart open — because it never requires us to close off from Love in order to see clearly. And from that open, clear place, we become not just more compassionate — but more powerful. We stop reacting and start genuinely responding.

The next time you feel that flash of certainty — that inner voice that says I know exactly what this is! — I want to invite you to pause. Just long enough to ask: is this the full picture? Or am I only seeing half of it?

In my forthcoming book, I explore the concept of the Single Story — how we make complete narratives from incomplete pictures — and how curiosity opens the door to something far more true.