“Move me on to any black square
Use me anytime you want
Just remember that the goal
Is for us all to capture all we want”
– “I’ve Seen All Good People” – YES
My writing sometimes takes an angry turn. That’s because if I don’t free my anger by writing it down, it stays inside of me, consuming me — smothering the joy that feeds my hunger for life.
Writing is cathartic. It diffuses anger. And the relief is instantaneous.
It’s like vomiting. Once you get it over with, you feel so much better.
Why am I angry? For many reasons, and yet, for no specific reason at all.
Sometimes the anger just brews from a darkness inside and I have no idea what triggered it.
But one trigger I can depend on to bring it — and bring it good — is taking on other people’s drama and making it my own. I give support, I give time — time I will never get back — but the drama keeps sucking me in.
In the end, my good intentions are shoved back at me, unconsumed — or worse — used as weapons against me.
I am left alone, wondering why I even bothered. And I turn the anger towards me, for getting caught up in something over which I had no right to get caught up in.
“Don’t throw your pearls in front of swine,” the Bible tells us. So why do I continue to do it?
My anger is also fueled by grief. And that’s the best and worse kind of anger there is. Because when faced with the finality of life, every second becomes precious. And when you have nothing to lose, you tend to be less forgiving of other people’s bullshit.
Does the intensity of my anger scare me? Sometimes. But most of the time I lean into it to learn the lesson it is here to teach me. And it’s not necessarily a lesson of reconciliation — especially when reconciliation means giving in to influences and beliefs that would propel me backwards on my journey through eternity.
Anger sparked by injustice is anger that’s justified.
But clarity is a wonderful thing. Glimpses of what’s really bothering me bubble their way to the surface to brighten my otherwise dark disposal.
Peace is the result.
Peace is the Queen in the chess game of life. Pawns can go on pretending all is well, when they have no idea how not well things are — how little power they really have.
Peace ultimately wins.
Queen takes pawn. Check mate.
Trading Barbs With Barb 