My mother once told me that anger isn’t a true emotion. That it merely mimics its relatives – pain and fear.
I asked her to elaborate because I only ever saw them as separate. Anger always seemed to emanate from hot coals until eventually igniting a fire, and it always seemed to lead to collapse and ruin. But she told me that at the root of anger, fear or pain are usually its driving force.
Like when a parent shouts at their teenager for arriving home long after curfew. Although we might perceive their reaction as the sizzling coals of anger, their stern demands are simply a product of their fear that something might have happened to their pride and joy. And a loss like that would have signified the end of their universe. So a more daunting emotion unmasks itself in the face of such fear.
Similar to those who possess a broken heart or those suffering a debilitating kind of grief after the death of a loved one. They too fall victim to the great imitator. Once the tears have evaporated sometimes an all-consuming agony can lead to bitter destruction. On the outside, we only witness its shambles and ignore its root cause.
The outcast who brings the gun to school is beaten down by the pressures of trying to fit in where there’s no room for different. Anger is never the original culprit, but if loneliness festers long enough it can spawn great horror.
When we protest in the streets for our stolen rights, it is not anger that drives us, as anger fades once the wounds have healed. Sorrow, however, tears into us and leaves a scar for us to remember it by. And that is what clings to us in our worst moments. It’s what pushes us to raise our pitchforks and sink into the quicksand of new lows.
I think I finally understand my mother’s message. What would happen if we reached one another before we allowed hostility to surge through us? What if we could abolish aggression by focusing instead on its source? By taking a closer look at what lies beneath the surface of these burning reactions?
Perhaps all we need is to be more aware of ourselves and therefore more aware of one another. Because if we could do that, none of the flames of anger would have fuel. And we’d replace a blind rage with clarity, with compassion.
I choose to believe we’re already headed in that direction. And I can only hope that in time, we will learn to extinguish our fires long before they burn our cities down.
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Photo by Alfred Kenneally on Unsplash
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