Burning Desire, Mariko Mori
Anger appears as a faint buzz in the back of my brain, a mild irritation, a barely noticeable ticking noise growing louder. A high pitched detonator inside my brain. Me, me, me. Hate, hate, hate. Instead of becoming aware and calming down, the charge goes off, I lose it and fly off the handle into blind rage.
It comes on unexpectedly, sneaks up on me like a ninja and before I know it I am in the midst of it, burning, blinded by the heat, a destructive tornado of fire. I am pushing it and pushing it and I just can not stop. I catch myself within 10 minutes or so but for me, this is too long to be unaware.
Oh God, I hate it. So many years of practice, reading, journaling, reflecting, meditating, chanting, shadow work, plant medicines even, and I am still the same angry person who flies into fits of rage just like her father used to. I am an angry Buddhist. A phony holy. A fake. Continue reading