I became so angry yesterday that my heart beat hard in my chest and when relief did not come it moved into the pit of my stomach and beat as a fist. It was very painful, and the residual chemistry of it awoke me in the night with illness in my stomach, neck and head.
So I have contemplated what took control, and exerted such power over me that I couldn’t even soothe myself in the moment to prevent the harmful after effects. My anger arose and I suppressed it, but by what force? And to what end?
I have a rich experience with shame and self righteousness, so when I witness them in others, I feel I can’t bear the pain that I know so well. Even if it is another’s pain, it is mine as well. Unable to find my authentic voice in the moment, and committed to refraining until I do, I am stifled, thus harm is not averted. I make an attempt or two to voice, but cannot find my reason. It is hot inside my head.
There is a sword, Manjushri’s sword of wisdom, that slices both ways. If you wield it to cut the head from someone’s illusion, be prepared to have the head cut off your own. Separation between the two of you is the illusion; the sword’s cut dispels the illusion of duality. Accuracy is required with a sword.
In the aftermath, compassion, and mindfulness of the breeze, the orange sunset, the tiredness in my body – gratitude and another turn on the wheel of dharma.
You know the times I love? They are the times, with loved ones, when we put aside our fear together – it feels so playful. Really, fear and play don’t happen so well together, do they? They are not fair to one another. Fear will always extinguish play, and play will do the same to fear. But fear, wow, what a powerful influence. And play, well, it takes a lot of heart.