Editor’s note: This note is from my friend and teacher, Michael Levin’s blog. It’s not topical, as most are but I found it irresistible since its message is incredibly compelling to me. Like most people, I spend most of my day judging and thinking, if not having angry conversations. What a nice reminder from Michael to fight the feeling. And since a down syndrome man is among his teachers, as my little sister was for me it hits home with me all the more.

My Learning Disability

Let me tell you about three people I know.

One is a man in his 40's with Down's syndrome. Once, he risked injury breaking up a bar fight by wrapping his arms around a guy twice his size and reminding the combatants that "It's all about love."

I know this is true because I did a book about him.

A second is a young woman in her early 30's with a diagnosis I can't pronounce or spell who may never be able to marry or lead a "normal" life.

Years ago, her parents gave a party in her honor, at which a guest remarked that she had never said a negative word about any human being in her entire lifetime.

I know this is true because I've known the woman most of her life.

The third is a man in his 20's about whose diagnosis doctors have never agreed. He's called "the special boy" and he lives for the Dodgers. He was asked how old he was and he looked puzzled. He wasn't sure. Age doesn't register in his world. Only love.

I know this is true because I know the young man and his mother.

What do these three people have in common?

Innocence.

What do I have, by comparison?

A serious learning disability.

Somewhere along the line, I learned to hate.

I learned to judge and condemn.

I learned to hold grudges.

I learned to have angry conversations in my head with people who aren't even in the room.

In the words of the song from the musical South Pacific, I was "carefully taught."

To my mind, that's a greater learning disability than all of the three people above possess, put together.

This not some kind of "the crazy people are the sane ones."

Instead, this is "the sane ones aren't nearly as charitable, kind, nonjudgmental, and non-hostile as the ones with the diagnoses."

Where did I learn what I learned?

Why didn't they learn the same things?

It's all what you pay attention to.

The world trains us to pay attention to differences. In wealth, age, attire, appearance, race, religion, and other trivialities.

These three people I know ignore these things. Maybe they aren't going to be rocket scientists. But maybe they will. But who cares? There I go again, judging people by their potential in the marketplace.

I see these three individuals, and people like them, not as objects of pity or derision but as messengers.

The message is very simple: it's all about love, as the man with Down's syndrome said when he broke up the bar fight.

It's not about what you look like. Or what you have or what you do, or where you live or what you wear, or what you know or where you went to school, or what you earn.

It's all about love.

Every time I see the woman who has never said anything mean in my life, I reproach myself. Have I ever gone even 24 hours without saying something unnecessary, or hurtful? Possibly. Have I ever gone a day without thinking something negative about someone?

Who's learning disabled, me or her?

Who's really missing something?

The next time you see a person with Down's syndrome, here's what you do.

Go up to that person and say, "I love you."

Ask for a hug.

Maybe you think I'm crazy.

To these individuals, whatever the "diagnosis," the only truth is love.

If you approach with love, instead of fear or disdain or pity, you will be approaching them the right way.

The people taking care of them-the parents, the professional caregivers-will be shocked. You're a total stranger. You're saying I love you.

What's wrong with you?

But the person to whom you're saying "I love you" won't see anything amiss. After all, they already love you. And now they have a chance to tell you.

I'm sick and tired of my learning disability. I wish I could unlearn my fixation with all these things that don't matter. I wish I could remember, even for five straight minutes, that it's all about love.

Wish me luck.