A Dangerous Pleasure
One of the most pleasurable feelings for me is the emotion of anger. I love being pissed off. I enjoy the rumble of the volcano, vibrating within my gut, and the flashes of lightning that electrify my nerves.
But anger is a dangerous feeling. I can’t think rationally when I’m angry. And this makes me prone to try to solve a problem by doing something that is harmful to others or destructive to myself.
Some people say that venting is healthy. But how healthy can that be, when it leads to saying things that alienate others? Or when it leads to doing things that destroy what we hold precious?
It feels damn good to blow off steam. But that good feeling can be addictive. Which leads to more and more blowing off of steam, until we become a regular teapot, frequently howling and whistling and bubbling up.
I’ve found that the best way to handle my anger is to avoid the venting method. Instead I wait. When I catch anger in time I stop what I’m doing and just wait. I savor the powerful feeling and allow it to churn and spin and roil inside, all that it wants, while I simply watch it like a spectator at a gladiator event.
Thumbs down, always! But only in my mind.
Anger takes a lot of energy, so it can’t last long. After a short while of watching the show it burns out and fades away, leaving a soft, lingering afterglow. That’s when I become capable of rational thought. And then I use the energy from the afterglow to address the problem in a way that is far more likely to resolve the issue, rather than make matters worse.
But for me, anger is like a ninja warrior, or Cato stalking Inspector Clouseau. It suddenly strikes from nowhere, and quickly overtakes me. I must always stay on my toes and remain mindful of it. Only then can I recognize it in time, and stop what I’m doing before I fly off the handle and engage in behavior I’ll regret later.
I’m not always successful. Sometimes a surprise attack of anger gets the best of me. And that really ticks me off. But I try. And I’ve found that with effort I can usually stop torrential rainstorms of anger from flooding and washing away the things in my life I’ve worked so hard to cultivate.
The result is softer rains, that nourish the soil of my toil. Rains from the hydrosphere that allow for carefully planned irrigation, planting, and growth. Rains that leave in their wake a cornucopia of beauty and color, for anyone to enjoy.
Just like fields of flowers in the springtime.