Bumper Sticker on the back of a gray car: “WHO AM I TO JUDGE”
While at a stop light, I saw a car ahead with a bumper sticker that took me by surprise: “WHO AM I TO JUDGE,” it read.
This took me by surprise because… aren’t bumper stickers often identity-claiming at best and highly-judgmental at worst? And pretty frequently? I wonder what motivated this driver to paste, “WHO AM I TO JUDGE” on their car.
Maybe it invites me to ask that question of myself. Or maybe it means, “Hey, don’t judge my driving!” Or “Just letting you know I’m not judging you and your terrible driving?”
Or maybe it just means what it means: Maybe it’s an introspective question.
And this has me wondering what other sort of introspective bumper stickers we could create for ourselves and others.
Perhaps…
“Am I being kind?”
“Am I living my values?”
“Have I ever apologized for that pain I caused you?”
“What would my dog say about me?”
“Did I turn off the oven?”
Possibilities abound. What introspective bumper stickers would you create?
A bright, red strawberry, lying on the ground. Public domain image.
Happy New Year!
I don’t love to begin a new year with a post about mice and my house, but… I’ve had some. Yes, some, i.e. more than one. I suppose it’s not uncommon for them to group together like that, though I had no idea about multiples until I put out a live trap and caught two at once.
I’ve become a Mouse Uber. Now I don’t want you to think my house is just utterly infested or something. It’s not. But over the last few weeks, I’ve put that live trap in the car and taken a couple of trips to release mice at the park.
Mice have personalities, just like we do. A few weeks ago, when I opened the trap for these two, one of them stayed inside for such a long time. This mouse was checking out the scene, getting a sense of the open air and looking about in order to observe the features of its future park home. But another mouse BOLTED as soon as I opened the trap, and it super startled me.
A few days ago, I had the live trap out again (just in case, you know). I checked in the morning. While closed, I looked inside the holes to find no mouse. “Oh, good,” I thought. Just to be sure, I shook the trap gently, in case a mouse might have been in the corner out of view.
And then I saw it. There was an outline of a mouse. Time to go to the park again.
There is no money in being a Mouse Uber, by the way. But there I was, talking gently to a mouse as I drove down the street. “How long are you in town?” (Just kidding, I didn’t ask that, but I did say a few comforting things to that mouse).
Once I arrived in my destination, I pulled out the trap and put it on the ground, and because of that previously-bolted mouse, I was really scared to open the lid. I kept doing it just a little at a time. Eek! Ack! At one point, I looked down and could see enough inside.
I saw a mouse, staring up at me. I remember seeing its eyes.
“Hi there, buddy.” Eventually, I opened the trap enough and backed away in fear.
And… It was a strawberry.
Y’all, I took the bait to the park. I Ubered it down the street, talked to it gently, spent time flitting about in fear, and IT WAS A STRAWBERRY.
So funny. So sweet. (Also, literally).
We humans are pattern-seeking and pattern-making beings. Our brains do that for us. We often make meaning in this way, and we use this process to protect ourselves. Of course, this can create its own problems, too. We also often project patterns from previous experiences onto new situations and see our own fears. This is true when an outline of a strawberry looks like a mouse (I could have sworn it LOOKED up at me), or when we project our stress or trauma history onto new situations and people around us. We assume that people will feel, believe, or act in certain ways because of us. We expect situations to turn out in specific ways. We cast narratives, crafted inwardly but projected outwardly, toward circumstances that might not even be true.
We can be kind to ourselves about this (like a gentle Mouse Uber driver). Our brain is trying to protect us. But this pattern-making process can be limiting as well.
So we can pay attention, allow new narratives to form, and be open to experiences that expand us.
Smuggling Grace 