How do you talk to a hungry ghost?

One of things that books and teachers will tell you about Buddhism is that meditation makes you less judgmental. That's not really what happens, though. You never stop making judgments. But when you meditate, you don't attach as much weight to them. They're just more thoughts, more ephemeral, effervescent brain bubbles. They are no more urgent or important than the bubbles that say "my nose itches" or "the room is blue."

By observing your brain at work and play, you become more aware of judgments bubbling up. And when you are aware of them, you can choose whether to act on them. You can question them -- really, is he an idiot? is that word hate speech? what is my intention in pointing out their error? is it really important to make a correction? -- or investigate them, find out whether they are arising from some old injury that's bubbling away slowly like the tar pits or from some giddy, advertising-culture standard.

There is always the chance that the judgments are the voice of wisdom, that they represent clear-seeing, or discernment. Sometimes that voice says, this is not how people should be treated. These are not appropriate words. This attitude spreads hate; it is not of benefit.

The question for me is, what is the wise response?

A lot of people have the misconception that Buddhists "accept" what is. This is how it is now. But again, that's a misperception. We try, constantly, endlessly, to see what is, without imposing our preconceptions on the situation. Seeing what is allows us to make real change. Seeing clearly that a relationship is abusive does not mean accepting that is how it is and will be. It means you can stop denying or excusing or dramatizing or lingering and do something.

I've been following reports all week about Rush Limbaugh's comments about a young woman who testified in favor of requiring insurance plans to pay for birth control. I feel compassion -- he's a sad man, a hungry ghost who can't get enough attention, affirmation, strokes, no matter how much he gets. A hell-realm dweller for sure. He's miles away from seeing his own inherent compassionate nature, let alone anyone else's.

But what he said is not acceptable. It's mean. It contributes to a culture of meanness.

My first reaction is to strike back, to meet nasty words with nasty words (not that my words reach a fraction of a percent of his). But as I sit with it, I lose my desire to do that. This is where I arrive: I don't want any particular result for Rush Limbaugh. But I do want to say that how he chooses to talk is hurtful and unacceptable. If I don't say that, I am part of it. But I can say that, to his advertisers, without attacking him.

I don't want to add to the meanness in the world. I don't want to contribute to building a culture where meanness and ridicule is how we communicate.

There's a saying in recovery: Say what you mean, but don't say it mean.

Or, as I said to my kids during their contentious years, I don't talk to you like that, so you don't get to talk to me like that.

Golden rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

With a Buddhist coda: Because they are you.