Die Going Forward

Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. ~ Buddha

In the last post, I offered up anger as a natural human emotion, and attempted to abstain from labeling it positive or negative. Experiencing anger for what it is can be healthy; attaching oneself to the false sense of security anger provides can only cause more harm to ourselves and those around us. In this post, I’d like to explore what it means to let go of anger, from my own perspective and in the context of going forward.

I can stew on some shit. Seriously. If I don’t pay attention, my emotions will consume me. While I’ve never acted out in an illegal manner, I’ve come close. At the very least, I’ve been prone to childish melodrama and have burned otherwise valuable bridges. The violent thoughts that arise are very real, actionable, and dangerous. I know I’m not alone in this. Allowing our emotions to speak and act for us seems to be the evolved response. In recent months, under the staggering weight of anger and grief, I have experienced the behavior I just mentioned, as well as a new found ability to detach myself from the emotion, at least in behavioral terms. It’s an all-out effort to do so, but when I sense the emotion rising, I’m able to relate to it not as an actor, but as an audience member. This has allowed me to stay my hand and my voice, when in any other instance, I might have lashed out.

Relating to anger in our preconditioned manner can cripple us. It blots out reason, compassion, and empathy. When examined further, our anger-born actions are more often driven not by Truth but by ego. We become and remain victims, allowing ourselves to be defined by the emotion and the actions that spawned it. Letting go of anger, or at least detaching oneself from it, ushers in a freedom of movement that is healthier and safer for everyone involved.

When I say I want to let go of my anger and maintain control over my actions, I am not without an equally powerful desire to protect myself from further harm. Striking a balance between aversion and attachment to the emotion has been difficult. In years past, I either held a grudge or I didn’t. I either removed the actor from my life entirely, even when it was unnecessary, or I left myself completely open to further harm. I misunderstood anger and had no mechanism for dealing with it in a way that was healthy or productive.

I want to re-label ‘letting go’ as ‘forgiveness’, with some qualification. My previous experiences with forgiveness were colored by my upbringing in the Christian church. Before your assumptions take root, I had a healthy religious experience when I was younger, and although the road I am on is quite different now, I’m not detracting from that experience here. Forgiveness, in this Christian context, meant I was to turn-the-other-cheek and forget the action that caused me harm. Subsequently, it forced me to put my anger back in that box on the shelf. When this happened, and when I inevitably revisited my emotions, either in the presence of strong memory or the actor that caused the harm, I’d layer judgment and insult towards myself on top of the anger, disguising it with grief and sadness. Perhaps I was simply misguided, but it was such an incredibly difficult state to achieve that I can undoubtedly say, today, I never really achieved forgiveness. Ever. Fucking dark, right?

Through a lot of study and reflection of late, what I have come to understand is that forgiveness, letting go, shouldn’t dismiss the actions that caused one harm. Nor should it dismiss the emotions that are a result of that harm. Rather, it should set the distinction between the actor and action, highlighting them as separate entities. In doing so, one is free to establish appropriate boundaries to protect from further harm, while re-introducing reason, compassion, and empathy towards the actor. It also ushers in a sense of kindness towards oneself, an acceptance that the emotions being experienced are real, valuable, and natural. In practice, I am no longer defining myself as a victim, and I find it easier (not necessarily easy) to detach myself from the emotion and avoid getting caught in the cycle of negative reactivity.

While trying to live my life under the Die Going Forward banner, forgiveness is slowly becoming my response to anger, my way of weathering the storm and getting on with my life. I still have anger, but I work towards not allowing that anger to become resentment. I stop it from becoming explosive. It’s not easy. In fact I’d call it the more difficult path. Is it worth it? That’s your call. For me? I’d rather shed the burdens of my emotions, set up supportive boundaries, and stand tall.

I’m still exploring this practice, and the processes I go through to put forgiveness in play are still very manual. I’m curious to hear what others think of this perspective, how you relate to anger, and what tools you might use in your own practice. Comments are open. 1, 2, 3, GO!

(Some of my thoughts here have been influenced by a book called Against the Stream, by Noah Levine. Even if you aren’t interested in Buddhism as a practice, it’s a good, down to earth read).

We all experience anger. It’s how we relate to that anger, and the actions we take in response to it, that defines whether the emotion controls us or we control the emotion. I’ve always tried to place my anger in a box. That box sits quietly on a dusty shelf in the back of the room, bothering no one. Eventually, though, the box explodes, damaging the shelf, the other boxes around it, taking out a wall or two. That damage has a ripple effect, aftershocks, that spread and perpetuate the destruction in ways I never intended. So, should I get a stronger box? I don’t think so. I think getting rid of the box altogether is a more appropriate step.

Anger is a natural human emotion. It’s not bad, it’d not good; it’s instinct. What can be classified as bad or good is whether or not our anger is allowed to affect those around us in destructive ways. Lashing out at our enemies and loved ones alike, poorly managed anger can leave wounds that are slow to heal if they can heal at all. So what is a human, who experiences anger on occasion, to do?

Someone suggested to me recently, when anger presents itself, to take the anger to a place it will do the least amount of damage. This is akin to picking up a live grenade that’s been lobbed over your wall and chucking it into an empty space. It still explodes, but it does a lot less permanent damage. Take yourself to another room, another building, another town, whatever. That’s a helpful (and healthy) idea, but the additional lesson I took away from this discussion was that you aren’t attempting to box the anger. It’s still there and ignoring it, or attempting to label it as good or bad, only creates more damage, usually upon ourselves. Instead, you have to be with it. As it’s natural to experience anger, and anger isn’t inherently bad, we as individuals should learn to accept anger when it arises, attempt to understand what the root cause is, and eventually come to a place of forgiveness of that root cause (a topic for a future post).

Easier said than done, I know. Some people are hotheads and explode with seemingly little provocation. I don’t tend to be one of those people, so it’s hard for me to say what might work when the emotion goes from 0 - 60 mph in short order. Perhaps learning to recognize the specific buttons that trigger that quick behavior prior to entering a situation where they’re sure to be pushed?

Whatever the case, acknowledging and accepting the anger, while avoiding the dramatics that are often the result of “soaking in it”, is a healthy first step. At least for me. So, how do you relate to anger? Do you have tips on accepting the emotion (working through it) while minimizing any damage that could possibly come from it?