The Heart of Anger

I have always had to work very hard with the emotion of anger, and because of that, I have become fascinated by it as I have sojourned through my life.

When I started therapy in my thirties, anger was at my core, although of course I didn’t realise it at the time. Years later, during my first reading with my astrologer, one of her first questions to me was, “Do you feel angry?”

That caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected to be confronted so directly with something that felt so deep and resonant. She followed it by explaining that when I “came in,” my parents were both very angry, so it had to be in me somewhere. That still makes me smile (and send love to my parents who where doing their best). It helped to soften the internal feelings around my anger.

Aristotle said:

“Anybody can become angry—that is easy. But to be angry with the right person, to the right degree, at the right time, for the right purpose, and in the right way—that is not easy.”

Isn’t that the thing? Anger is an emotion that arises quickly, but understanding it usually comes later—after the event. In the moment it can be a quick, powerful, and even a frightening emotion that arises suddenly without warning.

When I studied the Bach Flower Remedies, flower essences that help promote balance in emotions, I loved realising that Holly, the remedy used for anger, is considered a heart remedy. The idea that when we feel angry, our heart may simply be hurt— I think that takes some of the sting out of the emotion.

Over time, I have come to respect my anger, and in that process, I have become fascinated by it. Such a revered and reviled emotion. One of my teachers once told me that anger is a clean and clear energy if you can work with it in the moment. If not, it easily turns into rage or resentment.

I think a useful first step to working with anger is to acknowledge it, rather than store it away for another time. It’s a skill that women can sometimes become quite good at—storing stuff! I know I have had to practice working with my anger a lot. And I mean a lot.

These days, the word I like to hold alongside my anger is compassion. Compassion for my heart and body trying to make sense of a violent world, a difficult family member, war, injustice, or something—or someone—that, in my eyes, feels wrong.

Thich Nhat Hanh, the father of mindfulness, once said that when we get angry, we must produce awareness.

We can say to ourselves:

“I am angry. Anger is in me. I am anger.”

That is the first step.

I like this a lot.

He also says:

Breathing in, I feel my anger.
Breathing out, I smile.
I stay with my breathing so I won’t lose myself.

Yes, the ‘smile’ part may be difficult at first, but it can help to bring us back to ourselves. So we can remember who we are.

Perhaps acknowledging my anger has helped deepen my understanding of many things: myself, my ancestry, the country I was born in and its legacy, and my relationships. But most of all, it has definately deepened the relationship I have with my own heart.

A never-ending journey of discovery and compassion.

I love that word. Compassion.

It feels soft. I wrap my heart up in it like a beautiful coat of red velvet —softening and loving me, anger and all. So I can continue to breathe.

And be authentic in all matters connect to my heart.