Something Moved

I was angry, really angry. I wanted to say I felt frustrated, but to be perfectly honest, it really did feel much more like anger. My first impulse was to ask myself, “Why?” I wanted to analyze, understand the emotion, as if justifying it would somehow make it better.

The first “reason” that came to mind was all the things I had on my to-do list, along with the usual self criticism for not yet having done them. Reason number two was technical difficulties I had been having with my computer, like 20 emails in my outbox that had inexplicably disappeared, destination unknown.

In my usual tenacity to “get to the bottom” of the feeling, I even checked Plants & Plants, an astrology newsletter. Apparently, because of the movement of the stars that day, we all would be feeling “dissonance, a feeling of frustration, agitation and annoyance.” Unfortunately, none of those perfectly rational explanations made me feel any better. I still felt angry.

Anger turned inward is depression, someone had once told me. And that was definitely not something I was up for that day. Already I was started to feel sluggish, a lack of productivity taking its hold. Who knew where else the emotion might lead?

I knew the anger was trying to tell me something, something I couldn’t figure out by reading or thinking about it. I needed to give into it. I needed to move. My first impulse was to do something destructive, like perhaps hurl my laptop off the balcony. Fortunately, I passed on that idea and just closed it for the day.

A funny thing happened when I did that. I picked up a pen. And I wrote and wrote and wrote. Anger helped me to write about four blog entries in what felt like mere minutes.

Then my anger moved me to other pursuits. I picked up toys. I picked up the vacuum. I picked up a rag. I mopped, dusted and cleaned. I wiped down baseboards. Sometimes, I threw things like papers into a heap, laundry into a pile. Sometimes I shouted things, like my opinion about all the troubles in the world. (My son was, after all, asleep. It was “Mommy Time!”).

The more I moved, the more I actually started to enjoy the joyful freedom of “being mad.” It felt so good to move, so good to do something productive with all that energy. By the time my son awoke from his nap, the house looked a whole lot better. Better yet, his Mommy was in a much better mood.

The good thing about anger is that, when we can ride its wave, and use its energy to con-struct, rather than de-struct, it can make magic. The next day, a series of synchronicities happened that left me scratching my head in wonder. First, a friend offered to introduce me to someone he knew who he thought might be a good connection for me from the holistic spiritual world.

Then another friend stopped by and asked me if she could read my not-yet-published book. “Why yes, I think I have a copy here somewhere,” I said, sheepishly going into my closet where I had left it angrily in a heap, one of the casualties of my flurry of energy from the day before. Later, someone else asked about some workshops I had taught and offered to introduce me to someone he knew.

It was as if, by allowing anger to move through me, I assisted in allowing a whole series of divine coincidences waiting in a line to move on through. It was almost as if someone was saying, “Oh, so you’re really serious about all those goals you said you’ve been wanting to achieve. We weren’t sure…You see, you just weren’t, uh, well, you weren’t MOVING that much.”

So here’s my new strategy for anger: Move, move, move. When we feel angry, something just wants to move. Throw things out. Clean things up. Break out of a pattern. Exercise. Move your furniture. Make way, and let it come on through. You might be surprised what moves in your life when you do.