Listen Without Judgement Quotes

He was taught by the river. Incessantly, he learned from it. Most of all, he learned from it to listen, to pay close attention with a quiet heart, with a waiting, opened soul, without passion, without a wish, without judgement, without an opinion.

When you are in psychological distress and someone really hears you without passing judgement on you, without trying to take responsibility for you, without trying to mold you, it feels damn good!

Listen Chica-" Carlos says when we're driving to my mom's store "don't call me that anymore" I tell him "what do you want me to call you, then?" I shrug "whatever. Just not Chica" Carlos holds his hand up "what do you want me from me? You want me to tell you lies? Okay. Kara, without you i'm nothin'. Kara, you own my heart and soul. Kara,, i love you. Is that what you to hear? "yes" "No guy who actually says those things really mean them" "I bet your brother says them to Brittney and means them" "that's because he's lost all common sense. I though you the one girl who didn't fall for my bull" "I don't. Consider my wanting you as my real boyfriend a lapse of judgement," I tell him "But i'm over it

I've been in auditions without screens, and I can assure you that I was prejudiced. I began to listen with my eyes, and there is no way that your eyes don't affect your judgement. The only true way to listen is with your ears and your heart. (p.251)

to listen with a still heart, with a waiting, open soul, without passion, without desire, without judgement, without opinions.

To begin to know ourselves we must have sincere conversations with ourselves as if with a good friend. We must answer without reserve, listen without judgement, and accept without condition. That is self-love.

Suddenly he realised why so many of the inmates went to the young man to talk. It was the silence. The beckoning vacuum of someone who simply listens without reaction or judgement. Who extracts your words and your secrets from you without doing anything at all.

The practice of deep listening is the practice of open inquiry, without assumption or judgement.

When once more alone, I reviewed the information I had got; looked into my heart, examined its thoughts and feelings, and endeavoured to bring back with a strict hand such as had been straying through imagination's boundless and trackless waste, into the safe fold of common sense. Arraigned to my own bar, Memory having given her evidence of the hopes, wishes, sentiments I had been cherishing since last night--of the general state of mind in which I had indulged for nearly a fortnight past; Reason having come forward and told, in her quiet way a plain, unvarnished tale, showing how I had rejected the real, and rapidly devoured the ideal--I pronounced judgement to this effect-- That a greater fool than Jane Eyre had never breathed the breath of life; that a more fantastic idiot had never surfeited herself on sweet lies, and swallowed poison as if it were nectar. "You," I said, "a favourite with Mr. Rochester? You're gifted with the power of pleasing him? You're of importance to him in any way? Go!--your folly sickens me. And you have derived pleasure from occasional tokens of preference--equivocal tokens shown by a gentleman of family and a man of the world to dependent and novice. How dared you? Poor stupid dupe! Could not even self-interest make you wiser? You repeated to yourself this morning the brief scene of last night? Cover your face and be ashamed! He said something in praise of your eyes, did he? Blind puppy! Open their bleared lids and look on your own accursed senselessness! It does no good to no woman to be flattered by her superior, who cannot possibly intend to marry her; and it is madness in all women to let a secret love kindle within them, which, if unreturned and unknown, must devour the life that feeds it; and if discovered and responded to, must lead into miry wilds whence there is no extrication. "Listen, then, Jane Eyre, to your sentence: tomorrow, place the glass before you, and draw in chalk your own pictures, faithfully, without softening on defect; omit no harsh line, smooth away no displeasing irregularity; write under it, 'Portrait of a Governess, disconnected, poor, and plain.' "Afterwards, take a piece of smooth ivory--you have one prepared in your drawing-box: take your palette, mix your freshest, finest, clearest tints; choose your most delicate camel-hair pencils; delineate carefully the loveliest face you can imageine; paint it in your softest shades and sweetest lines, according to the description given by Mrs. Fairfax of Blanche Ingram; remember the raven ringlets, the oriental eye--What! you revert to Mr. Rochester as a model! Order! No snivel!--no sentiment!--no regret! I will endure only sense and resolution... "Whenever, in the future, you should chance to fancy Mr. Rochester thinks well of you, take out these two pictures and compare them--say, "Mr. Rochester might probably win that noble lady's love, if he chose to strive for it; is it likely he would waste a serious thought on this indignent and insignifican plebian?" "I'll do it," I resolved; and having framed this determination, I grew calm, and fell asleep.

Other people feel love when we listen without judging and accept them without demanding change. We all desperately require these basic needs. When we can do this for another, we are indeed that person’s angel.

Sometimes all you need is someone who is willing to listen to you without advising or judging you.

There’s no better way to serve and nourish the magnificence in another person than to simply listen to them openheartedly and without judgment.

Everyone wants their story to matter, and they do. But some people forget that. Everyone wants someone, just that right someone, to listen attentively with wonder and happiness to the greater moments of their life. And everyone wants someone who'll sit by and listen without judgement over the moments we fell. Especially when we've gone too far, at least for ourselves.

he was taught by the river. Incessantly, he learned from it. Most of all, he learned from it to listen, to pay close attention with a quiet heart, with a waiting, opened soul, without passion, without a wish, without judgement, without an opinion.

Alone. Is anyone listening? Without prejudice, without motive, without preaching, without judgement, without bullying, without ego. With heart alone.

Everyone wants their story to matter, and they do. But some people forget that. Everyone wants someone, just that right someone, to listen attentively with wonder and happiness to the greater moments of their life. And everyone wants someone who'll sit by and listen without judgement over the moments we fell. Especially when we've gone too far, at least for ourselves.

Most of all, he learned from it to listen, to pay close attention with a quiet heart, with a waiting, opened soul, without passion, without a wish, without judgement, without an opinion.

taught by the river. Incessantly, he learned from it. Most of all, he learned from it to listen, to pay close attention with a quiet heart, with a waiting, opened soul, without passion, without a wish, without judgement, without an opinion.

Doesn't matter if you speak either truth or a lie. People are too stubborn to listen only an expected/ pre-concluded/ conjectured answers from you, without having any second thought about the impetus and certitude of the person who speaks. Finally, a cessation that you are no more the same person which you were earlier.

Now listen up— you cannot let a fear of failure, or a fear of comparison, or a fear of judgement, stop you from doing what’s going to make you great. You cannot succeed without this risk of failure. You cannot have a voice without the risk of criticism. And you cannot love without the risk of loss. You must go out and you must take these risks. Everything I’m truly proud of in this life has been a terrifying prospect to me — from my first play, to hosting ‘Saturday Night Live’, to getting married, to being a father, to speaking to you today. None of it comes easy. And people will tell you to do what makes you happy, but a lot of these has been hard work, and I’m not always happy. And I don’t think you should do just what makes you happy. I think you should do what makes you great. Do what’s uncomfortable, and scary, and hard but pays off in the long run. Be willing to fail. Let yourselves fail. Fail in a place, in a way you would want to fail. Fail, pick yourself up, and fail again. Because without this struggle, what is your success anyway?

Girls aside, the other thing I found in the last few years of being at school, was a quiet, but strong Christian faith – and this touched me profoundly, setting up a relationship or faith that has followed me ever since. I am so grateful for this. It has provided me with a real anchor to my life and has been the secret strength to so many great adventures since. But it came to me very simply one day at school, aged only sixteen. As a young kid, I had always found that a faith in God was so natural. It was a simple comfort to me: unquestioning and personal. But once I went to school and was forced to sit through somewhere in the region of nine hundred dry, Latin-liturgical, chapel services, listening to stereotypical churchy people droning on, I just thought that I had got the whole faith deal wrong. Maybe God wasn’t intimate and personal but was much more like chapel was … tedious, judgemental, boring and irrelevant. The irony was that if chapel was all of those things, a real faith is the opposite. But somehow, and without much thought, I had thrown the beautiful out with the boring. If church stinks, then faith must do, too. The precious, natural, instinctive faith I had known when I was younger was tossed out with this newly found delusion that because I was growing up, it was time to ‘believe’ like a grown-up. I mean, what does a child know about faith? It took a low point at school, when my godfather, Stephen, died, to shake me into searching a bit harder to re-find this faith I had once known. Life is like that. Sometimes it takes a jolt to make us sit and remember who and what we are really about. Stephen had been my father’s best friend in the world. And he was like a second father to me. He came on all our family holidays, and spent almost every weekend down with us in the Isle of Wight in the summer, sailing with Dad and me. He died very suddenly and without warning, of a heart attack in Johannesburg. I was devastated. I remember sitting up a tree one night at school on my own, and praying the simplest, most heartfelt prayer of my life. ‘Please, God, comfort me.’ Blow me down … He did. My journey ever since has been trying to make sure I don’t let life or vicars or church over-complicate that simple faith I had found. And the more of the Christian faith I discover, the more I realize that, at heart, it is simple. (What a relief it has been in later life to find that there are some great church communities out there, with honest, loving friendships that help me with all of this stuff.) To me, my Christian faith is all about being held, comforted, forgiven, strengthened and loved – yet somehow that message gets lost on most of us, and we tend only to remember the religious nutters or the God of endless school assemblies. This is no one’s fault, it is just life. Our job is to stay open and gentle, so we can hear the knocking on the door of our heart when it comes. The irony is that I never meet anyone who doesn’t want to be loved or held or forgiven. Yet I meet a lot of folk who hate religion. And I so sympathize. But so did Jesus. In fact, He didn’t just sympathize, He went much further. It seems more like this Jesus came to destroy religion and to bring life. This really is the heart of what I found as a young teenager: Christ comes to make us free, to bring us life in all its fullness. He is there to forgive us where we have messed up (and who hasn’t), and to be the backbone in our being. Faith in Christ has been the great empowering presence in my life, helping me walk strong when so often I feel so weak. It is no wonder I felt I had stumbled on something remarkable that night up that tree. I had found a calling for my life.

[I]t's a con, at children's expense. When self-esteem advocates tell us to flatter the young about their views, in reality they ask adults to abandon the difficult task of disciplining them. Emphasizing that adults must 'express unconditional positive regard and acceptance for children' effectively destroys the inter-generational duty of passing on knowledge, setting boundaries for behavior and the broader task of socialization. It is not good for children and can mean adults indulging even the most destructive aspects of young people's behavior. In 2013, a self-harming pupil at Unsted Park School in Godalming, Surrey was given a disposable safety razor to slash himself with, supervised by a teacher. A spokeswoman from selfharm.co.uk justified this irresponsible collapse of adult judgement using the mantras of pupil voice and self-esteem: 'The best way to help is to listen without judging, accept that the recovery process may take a while and avoid "taking away" the self-harm' because 'self-harm can be about control, so it's important that the young person in the center feels in control of the steps taken to help them'. That's an extreme case but it touches on how focusing on the schoolchild's self-esteem can create the impression that the world should circle around pupils' desires. This in turn puts pressure on adults to tip-toe around young people's sensitivities and to accede to their opinions. Combined with student voice orthodoxies, this can lead to the peculiar diktat that teachers express respect for pupils' views, however childish or even poisonous.

Be the one who cares. Be the one who’s vulnerable and proud of it. Be the one who takes a chance on openness, even while knowing how sharp the pain can be. Be the one who forgives—the one who understands that our mistakes make us humans. Be the one who’d rather be wrong and kind than mean and trying to be right. Be the one who dares to be different, who seeks to know themselves. Be the one who shows up, the one who gives second chances. Be the one who lives unapologetically and authentically, without fear of judgement. Be the one who listens to their heart. Be the one who doesn’t take the little things others do for granted. Be the one who hears “I need you” behind their friends’ “I’m good.” Be the one for those who need you, but above all else, do it for you. Be the one who works to be the best one they can be—the one who’s not defined by others’ judgment. Be the one who takes the box they’ve been put in and kicks down all the walls. Be uncool. Be too cool. Be quiet. Be loud. Be soft, be kind, be brave. Be the one. Be you.

When we finished we sat quietly and watched the endless view. I was slowly realizing that this was one of the Seer’s qualities that I appreciated the most. To be present without words, without expectations and without any judgement. These were the times when I felt that he could communicate his thoughts and visions through his presence alone. Looking out became looking in. It was an undramatic kind of transmission, which would move you almost imperceptibly and silently. At these moments I felt my body relax completely. Each fibre, each muscle and every single cell found its correct place. An empathetic vigilance grew from this relaxed condition, a vigilance, which saw people and things as they were on their own merit. This was not about acceptance any more, since there was nothing to accept. Everything was as it was. It was a long-forgotten language. He showed me how almost all communication between people, the spoken and the written word, is nothing but our desperate attempts to cling to illusory personalities and identities tainted by prejudices, fear and vanity. A language which did not allow any room for listening, which focused on itself, which was excluding and only lived due to its attack and defence system was, according to him, a poor and inhumane one. Although the users of this language were usually very good at repartee and were able to write infinitely, they were really only good at maintaining and communicating limitations without end. It was this maintenance of limitations which was one of the main reasons that the great paradigm change, which all were waiting for, did not happen. He did not judge. He simply looked at and worked for the release of limitations wherever he met them. Not until the dissolution of all mental noise would it be possible to practise the transmission of stillness as a transforming kind of communication between people. It was not possible to enter this condition with a limited attention. The road to the transpersonal and the related level might seem difficult, because it demanded an obligation which included the complete human being. It was not enough to be just a little bit pregnant. You either were or you were not. And the paradoxical difference between the one and the other was the simple fact that the sleeping person decided to open his eyes, to wake up and become conscious of his wakeful condition. The fact that such a seemingly simple decision could appear so difficult lay in the fact that it entailed the release of more or less everything that you have ever learned and gained, and which you erroneously have interpreted as a true realization. He presented all these considerations to me on the mountain. In one single thought, without words, without judgement.

I stared at Clay as he dragged Luke in by the cuff of one pant leg.  Luke didn’t appear to mind.  Instead, he was laughing.  His hands clutched the waistband of his pants to keep Clay from pulling them off entirely.  After they cleared the threshold, I saw a crowd watching from the hallway.  Not good.  News of this would get back to the Elders.  No doubt Sam would want to talk to me as soon as he found out I was awake.  I moved from the couch to the door and slammed it closed.  The poor door would need some repair work. Clay reached the middle of the room, dropped Luke’s leg, and without pause, turned back to the door.  I didn’t move away from the exit.  He reached for the knob without meeting my gaze, but I stopped him with a hand held up. “Clay, I need you to stay and listen.  Please.” He still didn’t look at me, and I knew asking to speak with Luke had hurt him.  Why wouldn’t it?  Had I really ever given him much hope we had a future together?  Sam showed up at our door just days ago saying I’d rejected Clay and needed to do the Introductions again.  Instead of putting my foot down, we went back.  Granted I’d told Clay I didn’t like to see him hurt and admitted we both knew he was the one for me, but we hadn’t talked about what we’d do about it. “Please,” I said again, when he hadn’t moved.  “Give me a chance.”  I touched his face and forced him to meet my gaze.  “I’ve asked so much of you already and know it’s not fair to ask again, but I am.”  I chose my words carefully aware of our audience inside the apartment and in the hall. He sighed, reached up to cup my face, and gently smoothed his thumb over my cheek.  A tender look crept into his eyes before he abruptly dropped his hands, turned, and headed toward the still laughing Luke.  Clay dragged his feet as he stepped over Luke.  Luke grunted when a foot connected with his ribs, and his laughter started to quiet. As

Being a maverick traveller, one would like to place oneself in the place of a local; just listen without judgement.

Communicating with awareness and kindness, and listening without judgement, are at the heart of good nursing practice.

The Popish prohibition of free enquiry and private judgement in religion is, if possible, still more fatal to the mind. The Council of Trent ordained no one should presume to understand the Scriptures, except according to the doctrines of Rome and the unanimous consent of her Fathers. Rome enjoins her children an implicit faith, which believes on the authority without evidence. The faith of the Protestant is an intelligent conviction, the result of the free and manly exercise of the faculties God gave him, guided by divine fear and help. The papist collects the dicta of the Fathers and Councils, only to wear them as shackles on his understanding. The Protestant brings all the dicta to the test of reason, and still more, of that Word, to which his reason has spontaneously bowed as the supreme and infallible truth. Rome bids us listen to her authority and blindly submit; Protestantism commands: 'Prove all things; hold fast to that which is good..' Happily, the prohibition of private judgement is as impossible to be obeyed as it is absurd.

Listening to someone without judgement or prescription is the most precious gift you can give someone.

Love weaves a web of magic around those it touches Heightening the senses, reawakening long forgotten dreams It unites two people Two individuals of independent thought and action Giving them the desire and the courage to share their lives Learning about the other Learning about themselves Developing trust and understanding The enchantment of love can be kept vital and strong By nurturing each other, through sadness and difficult times Offering and accepting compassion Taking the first step, when sometimes it is the hardest to make Being ready to listen and talk without reservation or judgement And remembering with joy and humour those early days in love Love is the final challenge, ongoing and ever-changing A wonderful partnership that offers happiness When simply being together is enough And a shared smile means more than the answers of the universe To be cherished and respected And knowing that laughter is the purest gift of all This is the love that marriage celebrates Phillipa Nefri Clark 1990

Listening without judgement is a difficult skill to learn but we must attempt to listen. We have two ears and one mouth .Hear more and speak less.

Listening without judgement is a difficult skill to learn. "But we must attempt to listen. "We have two ears and one mouth. "Hear more and speak less.

She was just looking straight at me, and without any malice either. She was wide open, taking in everything I told her without judgement, just listening, listening to the way I phrased it all, listening to how I felt.

Look at your own relationships. Are you more interested in telling someone something, or are you more interested in deeply listening to the other person. Every good relationship needs to have a balance of both. It is important to remember the true gift of listening without judgement or fear to our mate, child, parent, friend or co-worker.