Storm clouds roll menacingly by
and rumble with clairvoyant ferocity. Darkened is the horizon, with redoubled
potential. A clap of thunder as the lightning peels the darkness away in
milliseconds of fearsome white light before the gloom returns. The climate of
the soul is dark, just now, a time devoid of reason.
Descriptions of climatic
conditions correspond well as comparisons for the moods that swing in and over
the top of us. Just like the weather cannot be controlled, so, at times, we
find control beyond us. We’re windswept with imbalance, whether by excess or vanquished
emotion.
Making Sense Of The Nonsensical
How do we do it? How do we make
sense of such aggregated loneliness of soul?
Sometimes there is no way, but
even within a murderous moment we can find reason for logic if only we have a
semblance of thought for surrender.
Dealing with anger is about
wrestling with the inner idea that has us estranged to sense. Just what has
happened, deeper down, to cause this reaction—to fuel this storm front of
visceral rage?
It may be many things, or just one
thing, though it’s possibly things far beneath our consciousness. Our conscious
thought is bombarded by things in the here-and-now, but it’s the unreconciled
unconscious world that’s the real threat.
The mere fact of the enquiry, the
time taken to implicate possibility of unconscious awareness, helps us make
space so we don’t respond in anger. The storm that actually spills, the one
that strikes and damages infrastructure, is the one designing for itself its
own consequences. Storms like this are not easily lived down.
Taming A Burgeoning Hurricane
There may be no one single way to
stem the unabridged rage of the violent offender, or that offender within us,
but it must certainly be aided by taking a step back and making a firm enquiry
of the unconscious mind.
What could be there? Such unconscious thoughts—an entire world of
them—exist.
In the mode and disposition of
imploding, right in the midst of it, we still have the capacity to arrest the
spilling stream of words and actions that may prove the end of us. It’s still
not too late. If we can be mindful in the moment, knowing that surrender is the
best way, we can turn our anger into tears of inadequacy, or a heartfelt
confession. Better a moment of embarrassed lack than a lifetime of regret.
© 2012 S. J. Wickham.
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