I had to pull away from a webpage that was so impaled by anger, that the anger stabbed at me. The voices on that page busily blamed others for their discontent — the others being those who are different, easy scapegoats, and quite likely, those who reflect something that reminds the angry ones of a part of themselves that they truly dislike. The anger seemed so encompassing, that it blinded vision, and cut out the heart.
Anger. I know it well. Anger has boiled within me to the point of dehydration of the senses. I let anger take my fertile body and transform it into a desert — something I didn’t like. I cursed the hot sand, the barrenness of rocks, plants and life. I let anger guide me to my own skeletal form, like the white bones and skulls made famous by Georgia O’Keefe.
This seemingly puncturing, biting, stinging, desert laughed at me. It laughed so hard that the winds frolicked like hyenas at the kill. But the source that powered the unfettered wind brought me calm like a cup of tea. The light burst forth and the naked Earth beckoned me to her lair. Naked. Stripped of sycamores and wild grasses. Naked. Empty of ivy and clover. Naked. Boulders bursting like derrières. Naked. Shards of stone glistening in the sun.
I picked up a sparkling stone. Warm in my hand, its twinkle winked as if it was time that I understood anger’s folly.
I grasped the happy that this stone exuded and held it like a best friend’s hand as I gently meandered through the desert sand. Creosote blessed me with its pungency. Jojoba promised to soften what had become hard within. A fruited cactus offered me sweet fruit. A black throated sparrow warbled a gentle, soothing melody in the arid air. And the bulbous stones dared me to explore their rise and fall.
But what brought me to the beauty of this rich nakedness was a near inaudible and liquid hum of quietude and peace — if only I would let it in.
To those souls impaled with anger, to those souls that feel left out to rot, to those souls that seek rocks to throw as opposed to letting the strength of the stones empower you to peace, I wish that I could make you well again. But it is you that must find that walk through your personal desert and seek peace. Peace will not come to you without love. How you speak, how you dream, how you let your mind wander, is what you will bear.
There is no joy in endless anger. Anger is akin to consuming a bag of sugar: The high is immense until your blood crashes, your belly aches and your teeth rot. A taste of sugar is sweet and delicious. So, like sugar, anger has its place, but in small doses and then properly added to your life’s recipe.
I am unqualified to counsel the chronically angry. And I would hardly attend one of these popular political rallies where anger is the driving force. Solutions come from within, even when the world seems to work against us.
Look around. Surely you know others who have little, but are happy and content, while others who have much would frighten the devil with their angst. Why is this? We are who we wish to be. If you choose to hate, distrust, condemn, and live in fear, then get ready for a wicked ride that will serve to infuriate you further. Speak what you want within. Your words will not necessarily bring you material wealth, but your words will shape your mind and heart and bring to you what you beckon.