Hi Love,
So, you are angry.
(Are angry? Feel angry?)
It is okay to feel angry.
Even if it also makes you feel scared and stupid and sometimes nothing at all because anger has been with you for a long time, maybe even from the beginning.
In the beginning, the proverbs say,
She raised her voice. She took her stand.
She cried out, “My cry is to all that live.”
What if Anger is Wisdom?
Anger wants to know that you’re alive.
In this way, anger is your mother. She protects you.
She protects the fragile, purple parts of you.
Picture her when the world infantilizes your anger.
When it says this is nothing more than a tantrum.
When it says you sound like a teenager’s rage.
(You would love to hear a teenager’s rage,
because rage would mean she feels safe and
safe would mean she feels mothered.)
Ask anger if she can teach you her mature ways,
how she can comfort you, if you can hold still,
how she can regulate you, if you can breath through.
Ask her, too, what she is protecting you from.
Oh, and ask her what she is asking of you.
In the beginning, She had trustworthy things to say.
She opened her lips to speak what was right.
She shaped her words to form what was true.
What is true?
(You are angry that misogyny is sometimes funny.
Angry that your body is sometimes funny:
slow and bloated and doleful.
Angry that Afghan women are in hiding.
Angry that you’re not better at hiding;
Angry that you want to hide.
Angry when he leaves the bottle beside the recycling bin,
Angry when she forgets the school note by the cereal bowl,
Angry that carelessness begs more care from you.
Angry that breath doesn’t naturally smell better,
And fiber doesn’t naturally taste better,
And you aren’t naturally better.
You are angry at the circle of life,
Angry that some things have to die,
Angry when anger is one of them.)
In the beginning, the proverbs say,
Wisdom sounded like anger. Wisdom hated.
Hated evil and pride and arrogance. Was cool with words like hate.
In this way, anger is our mother. She protects us.
She protects the fragile, purple parts of us.
Until we don’t need her protection.
Until we know are from feel.
Until we know.
She won’t be with us always.
So remember to say thanks.
XO,
Erin
P.S. I did an experiment in anger this week. You can see it here.
P.P.S. While my body was feeling slow and bloated and doleful, I binged the new Netflix series, Maid. There’s a great bit in episode two about the necessity of anger.
P.P.P.S. If you need a swear-y, angry meditation, this one is perfect. Thanks, mom.
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