Some days are like this...

Anger is a refuge.

Maybe it is a fort.

Maybe it is an impediment.

I don’t know, but it seems to be the *safest* emotion for me right now.

Maybe it is not safe, just readily available.

When I think of refuge, I picture Julie’s house with beds where you can sleep til noon and gardens where beauty can distract you from any pain.

It feels safe there.

Yes, there are mean and unthinking people everywhere, but somehow Julie’s house is safe.

Anger is not that kind of refuge. Anger is the hot tears turned inward creating a shield.

Anger reminds me that I have to fight against all the impulses to believe I am not worthy.  Anger has kept me alive so many times that I am reluctant to give it up or denigrate it.

But it also feels like a yoke. And it certainly leads to misunderstandings.

I yearn for safety, for someone to protect me so that I won’t need anger. But it is so hard to feel safe enough to let go of the anger.

What a crazy circle of pain, loneliness and peril. And, yes, it is of my own making. It is the definition of suffering.