On the topic of anger.
It begins with a question. I thought I would answer with a letter.
Dear Jane,
If I had to describe myself, the first words that come to mind are angry and defensive. I’ve had much trauma in my life, which I understand has formed me. But here’s the thing. This part of me- the angry part- it’s also the part I use to create things. To do things. And when I really look at it, it’s also responsible for a lot of what I love in my life.
I don’t trust myself anymore to do anything without my angry, internal critic being the one spurring me into action. Is there a way to be ok with this and make peace with myself?
From,
Looking for a different way
Hi Looking for a different way,
I hope you don’t mind that I wrote you a letter. I realise in doing so, I’ve probably made this whole experience a lot more personal. The irony is, at the end of the day, all of the challenges we face are intensely personal and yet strangely not at the same time.
That’s the magic of it I guess. That we can take someone’s very specific problem, with all its nuance and detail and recognise it, also, our own.
Speaking of which, a note to self: We need to remember more often that we are all running in parallel, all heading essentially in the same direction, even if the width between us sometimes makes it hard for us to see each other.
I have a lot to say on the subject of trauma. It forms a huge part of the daily conversations I have with people my “other work”. I could break what you’re experiencing down into its composite parts to help you make sense of it, should that be what you desire. But I’m not sure that it is. I say this to let you know that myself or others are available to you to help, should you seek it.
When I really read your question- when I read it with my whole body- I get the sense that to speak about trauma is not what you want from me right now. And to answer in that way would be a missed opportunity for us to hold hands, move to the edge of the diving board and pin drop into the vortex together. To explore things from a slightly different perspective.
So where-ever you are listening to this from, I suggest that we do exactly that. And while we’re at it, let’s invite anyone else who finds this question, these words or this conversation relevant to them to hold hands with us also.
Let’s jump together now….1, 2, 3… Jump
So, we’ve jumped. Welcome to considering yourself from a slightly different perspective. Welcome to the Museum of your Emotional Insides. The MEI. You have a season pass, it turns out (in case you didn’t realise).
If you’d just come with me to the far corner over here, I’d like to you stop at Exhibit A.
Exhibit A, I admit, is slightly ephemeral… you might have to snatch at the air to grab it, because it’s actually a question.
And the question that is wanting to be asked is, how do we make this into something beautiful?
How do we take this anger, this self-criticism, this lack of trust, and alchemise it?
You don’t have to know the answer to the question now. That’s part of the gift.
Just asking it will change you.
But in the asking, what you do have to embrace is the possibility of being a person who would ask such questions, and in doing so, realise that everything that has come before holds the possibility to be nothing more and nothing less than compost for everything that you wish to hold, create, feel and experience after it.
So for a few moments, consider what you’ve asked and sit with the question:
How do we make this into something beautiful?
Now, let’s move on.
We’re going to walk along the corridor and make our way to Exhibit B.
I think you’re going to like this one, but if you need to go to the toilet, now is a good time, because the presenter we’ll be talking to is kind of intense and isn’t known for her brevity (that’s me).
When you’re ready, sit down. You’re in the museum theatre now and you’re sitting in front of a big, white screen. The screen lights up and you see a flash of images that feels impossible to keep up with. There are animals and nature scenes and people that you know and people you don’t and universes and galaxies and fields and spaces and colours and all forms of different light that flash past your eyes with kaleidoscopic speed.
All these things live within the clay of your body. All these things travel with you.
Just when you think it’s getting too much, the screen goes blank.
You pause, slightly confused. It’s dark now. A voice says out loud:
You write that your trauma that has formed you. But this was never the case. Your trauma has informed you. It has led you to have some of the experiences you’ve had. And for those, we are sorry.
But formed you? No. You were always bigger than that.
You were formed- are formed- by something much more primal and ancient. By something elemental and at the same time greater than the sum of its parts.
A constellation of forces, longings, desires, sadness’s, loves, losses, wonders that pushed you into this life.
I don’t say this to be poetic. I say this with the understandings that to attribute your trauma to your formation is to force yourself into skin that’s too small for you. And to live in skin that’s too small is not to live at all.
You, asker of this question, have many skins, many animal bodies that are waiting for you to inhabit them.
They tell you that up until now you’ve miscredited all you’ve achieved and much of what you love, to the driving force of anger. We would like to tell you that this is a falsity.
Anger or no anger, it was you all along. All the good in your life, you created. All that you love in your life, you created.
As a matter of interest, the Irish language doesn’t describe anyone as being an emotion. Instead, they say, ‘the emotion is upon you’ like a cloak that you take on and off.
If we took the anger you have written of, dear question asker, then we could not say you were angry. We would say anger is upon you, implying, of course, that it’s capable of being taken off you.
We hope that the invitation you are seeing is to notice the you behind the emotion. You with the fire, you with the water, you with the earth, you with the air. You.
We hope these thoughts let you hold the anger a little more lightly.
We are hopeful that you might be able to see a tiny shimmer of something more beautiful already.
——-
Exhibit C is a series of flash cards. They’re lined up on the floor. Please, if you choose to, pick them up along the way.
If you look down, you’ll see the first one at your feet.
It says:
Hi, I’m not sure if we’ve had a direct conversation before, but I’m anger. Pleased to meet you. I have a feeling there’s some misunderstanding going on between us that I’d kind of like to sort out. I never wanted to convince you that I was the creative energy behind all the good you’ve created. I mean, don’t get me wrong- I love being the front woman. But I was only ever interested in stepping up when the matches felt too damp to start the fire, when something was needed to burn away the pain that was getting in the way.
We were never meant to be at war, you and I. We are on the same team. I am the sentry, the protector, the boundary that gets built when soft edges don’t feel like enough.
And it’s ok. To let me go does not mean I disappear. It doesn’t mean I can’t be accessed when I’m needed. It just means, for right now, in this moment, you’re exploring a slightly different way.
Even if you don’t know what that looks like right now.
Love, anger.
___
You keep walking. Another card. You bend down, pick it up and start reading.
Oh hey. So this is awkward… anger is a pretty hard act to follow cos you know, all up there in your face and stuff. I’m self-trust **waves awkwardly**
I’ve been asked to share one fact about me that you might not know… I settled on this one.
I’m something that has to be practiced. A lot of people seem to think I’m black and white but it’s really not like that. You have to work at developing me. And why people don’t want to believe that so much is because it’s a process of trial and error.
We don’t like trial and error so much us humans. We like certainty.
But like all things worth practicing, the frequencies of self-trust need to be re-tuned, tweaked, adjusted. Sometimes, you’ll get it wrong, and that’s ok. But more often than not, you’ll get it right. And you’ll start to understand what it feels like in your body when that’s the case.
Self-trust doesn’t land heavily. It tip toes in like a colourful mist of different colours, hues and shades. You’ll start to recognise which is which and what’s what the more you pay attention.
And that’s really what it comes down to- paying attention, playing with trusting yourself.
Hold the conversation you have with yourself more lightly. Let it not be so serious.
___
You turn a corner and find one more card. You pick it up. Questions again. You start to wish you’d never asked one in the first place.
On it is written:
What are you going to allow to come forward?
How can you practice gentleness?
Will you let yourself learn to be human, over and over again?
Thanks for holding my hand, lovely question asker. I’m glad we got to have this conversation.
All my love,
xx Jane
