Of the four components of Nonviolent Communication, I find observation to be both the most challenging and the most liberating. When I describe only what I can directly observe, I’m no longer judging, assuming, interpreting, labeling, comparing, evaluating, or reacting. Observation anchors me in the present moment. When I’m truly observing, I cannot be anywhere else.
Let’s look more closely at judgment.
Imagine I’m in a grocery store and I see a mother raising her voice at her child. My mind might immediately think, “A parent shouldn’t yell at their child,” or “What a bad parent,” or even “child abuser.” But what causes these thoughts? Is it cultural conditioning? Am I reliving memories of being yelled at as a child? Does it reconnect me with the pain of yelling at my own children when they were young?
Most of us have thoughts like these. The problem is not having judgmental thoughts; the problem is believing them. The moment I believe my judgments, I separate myself from the humanity of the other person.
In NVC, we pause and calm our “jackals” through self-empathy. I might say to myself: “It’s painful to hear a mother raise her voice at her child because I value kindness and respect.”
Once my jackals are heard and acknowledged, I can turn my attention back to the mother with curiosity and compassion: “She seems overwhelmed, and I imagine she’s wanting ease and cooperation while shopping.”
If I can feel compassion for her, then I have re-centered myself and released judgment. I may or may not choose to say something. Perhaps I offer a knowing smile or say, “Shopping with an energetic child isn’t easy.” But if judgment is still active within me, then judgment is what I’ll communicate—no matter what words I use.
Now imagine I’ve practiced observation long enough that I either no longer have these judgmental thoughts, or I simply no longer believe them. Then I only see what is actually happening: a mother raising her voice at her child. I don’t move into reactivity or right-versus-wrong thinking. I don’t separate myself from her humanity. I remain centered and present to both this moment and her suffering.
In that moment, I am free from the conditioning of the past, and compassion can flow naturally.
It is my conditioned, habitual mind—what NVC calls “jackal thinking”—that pulls me out of the present moment. In jackal consciousness, I think vertically: power over or power under. I judge myself or others as right or wrong. I enter the world of duality.
If my attention drifts into the past, I may reconnect with hurt or anger—perhaps anger toward my own parents for yelling at me. I may feel aversion or even hatred, an impulse to push away what I’m experiencing.
Or my attention may move into the future. I might fear speaking to the mother because she could raise her voice at me. Again, I’m pushing life away. I’ve left my center and disconnected from the present experience.
We all have jackal thoughts. That does not mean they are wrong. We don’t need to resist, suppress, or ignore them. Instead, we can acknowledge them and appreciate their protective intentions. We can feel the sensations they create in the body and recognize them as energy in motion—emotion—that will eventually pass through us.
When we bring awareness and compassion to these thoughts, our communication shifts from vertical to horizontal—from power over to power with.
Zen teacher Cheri Huber refers to jackals as “sub-personalities.” One sub-personality may try to warn us of danger. Another may carry a sense of superiority. Another may constantly remind us that we don’t belong.
Huber suggests listening to these inner voices and reflecting back what they say: “So what I’m hearing you say is…” If the sub-personality continues, we simply keep reflecting and listening.
In doing this, we become witnesses to our own experience. We create enough inner spaciousness to recognize that these thoughts are simply passing through the mind like clouds through the sky.
And now we are in choice.
Rollo May said that freedom exists in the space between stimulus and response. In other words, it is not our thoughts that create suffering, but our identification with them.
Through observation, we return to the present moment. We loosen the grip of conditioned thinking that keeps us trapped in fear, anger, or sadness. And when those layers begin to fall away, what remains is a vast blue sky of awareness, wonder, and compassion.