There’s a torrent and it won’t stop. A mass of bees swarming, changing shape yet keeping form. Just there beneath my skin and running hotly through my veins. It’s sharp and pointy, jagged and primal. Snarls come easily. My face, I can tell from those reacting around me, appears ferocious. Harsh and lioness-like. Yet I do not, I am not feeling that way myself. Lookout! My fangs are showing, don’t make me bare my teeth right now. I’ve no wish to scare you. My tongue sharpened with sandpaper is rough and bitey, just around the edges – don’t push – you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. Currently I’m zero to agression in microseconds so just don’t go there friends!
Fuck, the top cracked and that was it! A catalyst opened the door and now it’s raging furiously with a life of its own, an entity of pure murderous anger spewing forth if I open my mouth or stop attempting to smile. I’m puzzled…
Falling between the gaps… I’ve no idea what that means, only what it feels like. Where to? Down the rabbit hole… Why is it, in this place there’s no frame of reference, no easy-to-grasp gnosis? Shimmering and losing sense of the physical representation of outer form. It’s gone. Well, I still see it but I also not see it. I see its not there, I understand the wrapper was never more than just a trick of the eye and the mind. Like a mirage but somewhat more tangible. I see there’s nothing there really…
What is it about this recent experience of loss of differentness that’s given flight to such a vicious outpouring? I’m not personally angry; it’s a beast in need of restraint lest it injures those in range. Is this the end of anger’s repression? The burning of more samsaric seeds? Wherefore does this energy field, so separate and vibrant mean to go? How does it resolve back to Source?
This is not the anger of my personality display. It lingers. It consumes, feeding on available fuel. It subsumes… My anger is faster, more mobile, less volatile. More like a lightning strike – brilliant, dangerous, swift and then its gone. Almost like it never was and I forget in minutes its brief existence. There’s no grudge holding, no ill intent, no malice to my anger.
It’s been days now, two full days of this bristling simmering growling ever-present fiery malcontent attitude of a smoking seething bubbling hurricane sweeping through my body and blazing forth from eyes, lips and fingertips.
‘Course its mine – I lay claim to ownership because it can’t belong to another. But from where does this rage originate? And when’s it leaving please?