freedom from judgment

I've written about this a lot over the last year.
After a rather extraordinary and astounding mishap last night (promise to tell you later, it has to do with Question") I have begun to think - again - "What in tarnation is this trying to tell me, and what does it have to do with my life?"
I am getting to a point now, that I am wondering if the answer isn't "Your judgments about the thing are bringing your reality."
Which of course I know - that we all create our own reality with our thoughts about any given situation or thing, ie - we can choose to go through life as anything we wish - a victim, a martyr, a leader, a zen master, a philosopher, a sycophant - whatever takes our fancy.
As Melissia and I were discussing last night, some of us choose to believe that we were put on this earth to suffer, and maybe even that we are challenged to be happy with that suffering, others of us believe life should be celebrated as joyfully as possible.

I think I am being called to face my own judgments.
I don't mean the ones that have me mumbling "jackass!" to the idiot driver next to me, though I'd certainly do well to lose those, but the judgments about my self, my children, my life, and my reality.
I've told you before that I believe if there is something to be learned, you'll get a tap on the shoulder, followed by an "ahem", followed by maybe a tree root sticking out to trip you up a bit, slowing you down long enough take note of your surroundings - eventually, arriving with a brick to the back of your head, if necessary.
It's somewhere between the tree root and the brick that I find myself currently. Maybe like the tree root sent me flying into a deep pit, and I have to figure out exactly where I am, and how exactly I am going to get out.
Not that I feel punished. I do not.
I actually am quite comfortable in this place, and am finding it not so bad. Like I am observing the pit itself with a non judging eye, and not fighting to get out at all. Rather taking note of the things the walls of dirt and tree roots have to tell me, wondering if there are any interesting rocks or stones or other treasures to be found.

Here's what happened: I dropped a glass of beer on my laptop last night. I was standing over it (no, I wasn't drunk, thank you very much! :) ) and it just fell straight down, through my fingers. Exploded (the beer, not the glass) all over the open notebook.
Within a quarter-second I had flipped it over, had it unplugged from the wall, and had the power jack unplugged from the machine.
My dad called right at that time. I was still in a state of utter disbelief. (He had called me back, we were discussing the ill state of my desktop that I had sent to him for repairs) "You're kidding," he said. "No, I'm not." "Did you cry?" "I haven't even had time, yet." "Was it just water?" Gulp. "Oh, no. It was beer." "Oh, God," he said." Oh, God is exactly what I was thinking. "Take out the battery."
"Go to AutoZone, and get this stuff called CRC QD Electrical Cleaner. Take it apart as far as you can (again), cover up the screen to protect it (again), spray it out, letting it run out the side that got the most wet, put it under the lamp (again!) and let it dry out 'til morning."
Frankly, I was too stunned to even imagine a moment beyond turning on my machine this morning. I couldn't imagine what I'd say to Dell, couldn't imagine that the stuff would actually save my machine.
Last night my resulting post of "Question" was written on Trev's machine.

And this morning? This morning I am writing while sitting sideways in my wing-backed chair in the livingroom, machine on my lap, legs over the side of the chair and feet on the end table. Wondering if I should have a cuppa hot cocoa/coffee or iced tea.

Thinkin' about God, and wondering if Her car ever gets rusty.
But that's a tale for later...