Wednesday, March 13, 2013


I had a sudden burst of anger last night.  No matter the trigger--and since it concerns our art group, I do not feel entitled to go into it here--the outburst surprised even me.  With my shrink-wrapped English up-bringing, I am usually perfectly capable of disguising it or keeping it bottled up.  Last night, I did not make a conscious choice to let the anger out, it simply erupted.  I would like to think that I was at least skillful in allowing it voice, but I fear that skill went out the window.  Still, once past that first ignition and explosion, I found that I was able to stand back a bit and watch the anger turn to a slower burn and gradually recede.

My anger.  I carry a bucket of it in the pit of the belly, roiling around like the molten magma at the center of the earth--and for the most part unnoticed--since childhood, certainly.  A good thing to be alerted to it once in a while...

Luka arrives in a few minutes.  Time to prepare for a different rush of energy!

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