Reflecting on Everyday Things Part 3
April 9, 2026
Reflections on Everyday Things Part 3
I was recently speaking with a wonderful, spiritually gifted man who helps others find stillness and meaning. He confessed something that surprised me. “I have a mean inner critic,” he said. “It keeps putting me down.” “Why?” I asked. He replied, “It does not want me to relax. It does not want me to play or take time for myself. It makes me justify my existence by demanding I stay in motion, by producing, achieving, doing. But that is not who I am. By nature, I am relaxed and centered. I take time for things instead of rushing through them. I do not need to achieve to feel worthwhile. I am just afraid others will not love me unless I am on the go and achieving, so I find myself on a gerbil wheel all day.”
That voice that never lets us rest is not unique to this young man. It whispers in our ears all the time. It is part of being in a culture driven by forward movement and achievement. Success, upward mobility, the “good life,” all these are measures that we are handed from the collective ego of our culture. Somewhere along the way, many of us absorb the message that love must be earned, that worth must be proven, that rest must be justified.
I remember being a small child on a city softball team. I was always placed in the outfield. Whenever a pop fly came my way, fear would rise in my throat. I was afraid of disappointing my coach and teammates. And more often than not, I was so anxious that it seemed as though the ball passed right through my mitt and onto the field. The silence that followed felt like punishment. Even at that age, I sensed the unspoken rule: winning is what matters. Falling short means, you have failed not just the game, but the team.
Thirty-something years later, I found myself at my son Ben’s tee-ball game. I heard my own voice calling out, “Go, Ben! Go, Ben!” But Ben wasn’t concerned with the game. He was in the outfield, perfectly content, crouched down and picking clover. As we left, I chided him for not keeping his eye on the ball. I cringe now remembering it. In that moment, I had unconsciously stepped into the same success-driven script. I needed him to perform, to engage, to win… all because somehow his performance reflected on me. What is worse, I was unconsciously influencing Ben to think that being on top of your game was the most important thing. Wow. In my fervor, I hurt my child’s tender feelings. Imagine what my inner critic would do to me if I let it punish me every time I have that flashback. I am grateful for grace and self-compassion.
Here is the thing: Both Ben and I were casualties of the culture’s collective ego… the one that shames us when we miss, when we fail, when we fall short. The one that whispers, “You are only as good as your last accomplishment.” The truth? As a child, I would have much rather been wandering in the woods than standing nervously in the outfield. And the truth is, Ben would likely have preferred a wide, quiet field of clover to any organized game.
As Ben grew older, and even as an adult, something remarkable became clear. Our son had a rare gift. He could reach into almost any patch of grass and find a four-leaf clover. Sometimes several! It was uncanny. Where others saw ordinary green, he saw something special.
On that tee-ball field, he wasn’t failing. He was being himself. I wish I had understood then what I know now: the true self does not shout. It does not compete for applause. It simply moves toward what is natural and alive within it.
The wonderful man with the relentless inner critic can tell that voice to take a long hike. So can we tell our inner critic. Because life eventually teaches what achievement never can: when we silence our true nature to satisfy an ego, something inside us withers. But when we honor what comes naturally, whether that is playing, resting, wandering, or picking clover, our soul breathes.
Perhaps the everyday things we dismiss or even chide, like the wandering child, the missed catch, the quiet afternoon of doing nothing, are not signs of failure or apathy. Instead, they may give us pause to remember who we were before we got the message that we had to earn our worth.
Spiritual practice and self-inquiry: Take an inventory of how your inner critic may try to chastise you. What will be your soul’s approach in dealing with this?
Prayer:
Dear God, Forgive us. Forgive me. And send my inner critic on a long hike. Amen
