Walking the Harder Road
by Jeffrey Pierce
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Being part of the spiritual community, various quotes about love, light, letting go of attachments, and the right way to live constantly appear in my world. I imagine that we all come across them and embrace them from time to time. I know that I do.

Every warrior knows that those things that are truly valuable to us are worth every bit of effort, struggle, and sacrifice to achieve those things. Sometimes the price is high. Sometimes, we simply battle ourselves and our own perceived weaknesses and limitations.

Just this morning I encountered a quote by the Dalai Lama that one of my friends posted.

Anger is the real destroyer of our good human qualities; an enemy with a weapon cannot destroy these qualities, but anger can. Anger is our real enemy.

This is an absolutely beautiful sentiment and one that I agree with - to a point. The concept works great as a heading for our internal compass, a concept that we can reach for and use to temper our reactions and responses. My challenge with fully embracing the perspective isn't that the philosophy is incorrect, but simply that it represents one extreme of a duality.

In paganism, we embrace duality, the concept that all things are composed of both darkness and light, of projecting and receptive energy, and of opposite ends of the spectrum. We have individuals, such as the Dalai Lama, who have incarnated to represent one polarity of human experience. While those individuals represent an important perspective, they also represent an extreme that isn't the goal or calling of the rest of us .

Think about it this way. The Dalai Lama continues to reincarnate into that role, lifetime after lifetime. If we simply take on the same role, life after life, we never take the next step. We all know from our own pathwork that repeating the same lesson over and over again means that there's something key we're not getting, some concept that we're constantly repeating. I personally believe, looking purely at the logistics of reincarnation, that the Dalai Lama actually makes the intentional sacrifice of love and compassion to incarnate into that role lifetime after lifetime to be an example to us of how light can manifest in our world rather than continuing his own dynamic journey.

And dang, is my journey dynamic!

Where I Live

One of the challenges that I face learning from most established spiritual teachers is that they don't live in the same reality that I do. You don't see them wanting to cry or pound their head against their steering wheel when the 15,000 things they're entrusted to do that day are piling up in the face of Murphy's Law. They don't drop f-bombs. Most of them are cared for and insulated from all of the challenges that the rest of us face either by their followers or by their millions. It doesn't matter to me if it's an honored and respected holy person or a multimillionaire spiritual teacher. The reality that they live in is extraordinarily different than my own. Give me a frazzled parent with messed up hair, fresh damp coffee stains on their clothes, in line at the grocer with a handful of food stamps and loose change, and two kids - who practices open love and compassion to each person they meet including the person who cut in front of them to steal their parking space - and I'll gladly follow that person. They've figured out something. They face the same challenges that I do and have found the answers to overcome them. Show me a teacher with a snarky spouse, an overdue mortgage payment, or sick kids and no medical insurance and I can learn a tremendous amount of applicable tools and perspective from that teacher. Remove someone and insulate them from those daily challenges and their insight on how I should navigate those obstacles carries much less weight for me.

I'm not picking on the Dalai Lama as I have great respect for His Holiness and rely on his insight and wisdom when I navigate my own path. He's a source of teaching and inspiration that I personally turn to with great regularity. The reality of the situation is that one of the reasons I'm pagan is because I embrace life. Attachments? I've got attachments galore! I'm intensely attached to my wife and kids. I'd die for them without a moment's hesitation if it became necessary to do so. My close friends? Their love, trust, and support is the air I breathe. Emotions? I absolutely hate injustice - H-A-T-E it. I get pissed off when I go to check on a sacred site to find that it's been clearcut in my absence or when I hear that this or that politician is giving millions to major corporations while letting the poor starve on the streets.

As a pagan, I embrace life in a full-speed, head-first, happy roar of living. I dance around my living room with the kids, sob at sad movies, make not-as-healthy-as-they-could-be dinners that taste good just for the experience of eating them, and speak up when something needs to be said but everyone else is too afraid to say a word. My life is led heart-first, no-holds-barred, whoopin' it up, shedding tears, passionately embracing, and getting star-struck by moments that make me stop dead in my tracks and say, "...wow..." with wide-eyed childlike wonder. I will gladly help another human, whether I know them or not, not out of some sense of enlightened compassion, but because I've lived in life's gutter too. It's not love and compassion that directs me, but messy empathy and pride in who I am and the path I walk. When things get tough, I don't let go - I hang on tighter to those things that are truly important to me. My family. My path. Doing what I believe is right.

Sacred Anger

And part of my ability to do that is tied to my capacity to get really freakin' pissed off. Emotions are a bucket that we scoop our water from, either in cute little tablespoons or in big sloppy handfuls. You start saying, "I can't allow myself to feel this," and you start filling your bucket up with rocks. Those rocks that you put in your bucket don't stop anger or jealousy or any of the other messy and unwanted emotions; you turn off part of your heart and nothing comes from that part whether it was wanted or not. What's key isn't that you are able to prevent yourself from feeling something, but that you find the reins, hold them tight, and know when to reign the horse of your heart to a stop and when to simply hang on as you let it reach a full-speed gallop. We're not little bundles of light. We're sunlight and shadow, pleasure and pain, light and darkness. The beauty of our existence comes not in being free of all of those things but in knowing our limitations and what screwed up little fruit loops we are and choosing the higher path just the same.

Theodore Roosevelt may have said it best when gave a speech at the Sorbonne on April 23, 1910:

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

Real life is messy. It's filled with moments where compassion doesn't work, where the angry response is actually the correct response. Convincing ourselves that we don't ever have to face the challenge of darkness is the easy way out. Our darkness is a very real part of who we are, not something to be carefully cut away, but embraced and loved because our shadows are sacred too. Being a real, feeling, passionate, flesh-and-blood human being - and walking that path in way that you can be proud of at the end of the day - that's walking the harder road.

Joan Chittister, a Benedictine Sister, best-selling author and well-known international lecturer on justice, peace, and human rights stated, "Anger is not bad. Anger can be a very positive thing, the thing that moves us beyond the acceptance of evil.” It's the same concept as the bumper sticker, "If you're not angry, you're not paying attention." When faced with grave injustice, when confronted with the oppression of the weak and the exploitation of other human beings, anger is a completely appropriate response. It comes from a well filled with love, empathy, and the desire to protect others from danger. One of the most primal human emotions is that found in a mother bear with her cubs - the angry roar that says, "Back off! They are under my protection and you will NOT harm them!"

The key is realizing that anger is associated with the Element of Fire and therefore requires careful tending and control. We don't make camp for the night, pull out a military flamethrower, and start spraying the trees with fire to cook our meal. To protect the forest from our campfire, we dig a small circular trench, build an enclosing circle of stones within that trench, and carefully start and tend a fire that is neither too small for our needs nor too large to be controlled. It's okay to be angry. It's not okay to burn everything in sight.

We've learned in other materials that:

I was shown that Fire represents change through release. Science has taught us that, while energy cannot be created nor destroyed, it can be changed from one form to another. Fire is the catalyst for this process. It burns wood to ash and the fires of the sun change ice to water, water to vapor. In each transformation, Fire offers a breaking of bonds, a dramatic and sudden release from one energy construct to something entirely different.

Anger, as a vibrant, assertive, projecting energy, falls into the realm of Fire. Whatever it touches, it will transform and release its energy into something new. Anger can change a wall into open communication or it can transmute openness into mistrust. Aristotle wrote, "Anyone can become angry. That is easy. But to be angry with the right person at the right time, and for the right purpose and in the right way, that is not within everyone's power and that is not easy."

We have to learn how to wield powerful emotions. Just like we can't meet every moment with anger, we can't address every challenge with love. When you see a stranger abducting a struggling child, you don't respond to the kidnapper with love. Likewise, when someone has stepped into an area of your world where you've been hurt in the past, you don't respond to the innocent newcomer with anger. Anger often represents our shadow side, our darkness, the parts of ourselves that are sometimes scary to ourselves and to other people. What we need to remember, however, is that anger is a part of who we are - and as such, is also sacred.

In 2009, The Guardian reported on research published in the Harvard Study of Adult Development that...

...tracked the lives of 824 men and women since 1965, those who repress their frustration are at least three times more likely to admit they had hit a glass ceiling in their careers and have disappointing personal lives. On the other hand, the study found, those who learned to harness and channel their anger were far more likely to be professionally well-established, as well as enjoying emotional and physical intimacy with their friends and family.

Professor George Vaillant, a psychiatrist at Harvard Medical School, has spent the last 44 years as director of the Study of Adult Development, based at the Harvard University Health Service. "People think of anger as a terribly dangerous emotion and are encouraged to practice 'positive thinking', but we find that approach is self-defeating and ultimately a damaging denial of dreadful reality," he said. "Negative emotions such as fear and anger are inborn and are of tremendous importance. Negative emotions are often crucial for survival: careful experiments such as ours have documented that negative emotions narrow and focus attention so we can concentrate on the trees instead of the forest."

The issue isn't that we should learn to prevent ourselves from becoming angry, but as Aristotle taught, that we should learn to appropriately direct, focus and control our anger. Anger is a powerful tool as long as we intentionally and correctly wield it. A sword can be an extremely effective weapon, but a warrior chooses how and when to draw it from its scabbard and doesn't swing it at those the warrior loves.

As an overly passionate type, I've had my own struggles with anger. It's much easier to lock anger away than to consciously let out it and control it. These are my personal rules for working with anger. I've found them useful, but you may need to adapt them to your own emotional structure.

Know Your Own Power

The first step is to understand your own anger and what it can accomplish. It's intensely challenging to respect the power inherent in a concept if we have no idea what that concept is capable of.

Anger is associated with the Element of Fire, which means that, "Whatever it touches, it will transform and release its energy into something new." Once released, we can't take it back.

Think of anger as a blade. When you stab it into something, it leaves a wound. It doesn't matter if the target of your anger is a person, an energetic structure, or an inanimate object - it will never be the same after you have projected your anger at it. There will be a wound that needs to be healed. That wound will most likely leave a scar. Even when fully healed and forgotten, that scar will forever remain as Fire has forever changed it. This isn't a warning to never be angry. This is the full extent of what your anger is capable of doing. With this understanding, we can begin to consciously choose responses where our anger is appropriate.

Remember: Your anger, whether blindly released or intentionally applied, will change what it touches. Always.

Levels of Response

In order to effectively wield anger, we need to determine how we will respond. Sun Tzu wrote in "The Art of War"

You should approach the enemy like a stone smashing into an egg. This is a question of effective implementation of strength and weaknesses.

If I come home to find a stranger assaulting my family, they will receive every bit of anger that I'm capable of summoning. My goal is to end the threat as fully and quickly as possible. Powered by anger, I will be "like a stone smashing into an egg." If one of my children come to me to tell me they've done something they know they shouldn't have done - and I find myself angry about the situation - I will want to choose a lesser response.

The key isn't saying, "Well, they did this and that merits a Level 4 response. I was going to give them a Level 5, but they've been pretty good lately." What we need to remember is the other person's value to us and the cost of varying levels of angry response.

For instance, if my child comes to me and says, "I did this. I know I wasn't supposed to and I'm sorry," they are coming to me wide open with their defenses down. Any angry response - the drawing of my sword, so to speak - will cut them. There's a reason why we have terms like "wide open" and "our defenses down." In these situations it's totally appropriate to set our anger aside, even if it means we have to step away for a moment, so as not to cause a wound that we can't take back.

Likewise, when there is a distance between us and our partner, simply wading in swinging is only going to cause harm. Perhaps expressing our anger to them is completely appropriate. If it were anyone else standing in their shoes, we might even raise our voice. However, because of the value of our connection and our relationship, harm is magnified. We do not want to cause wounds that will have to heal and which will drive a wedge between us as they do. It doesn't mean that we can't get angry with our partner; it simply means we need to understand that anger hits them harder than it would someone who wasn't so close to us.

Engage, Don't Attack

Anger is most easily expressed between two people when there is a connection. You can rage outside a locked door (metaphorically or otherwise) all you want and the people within will simply ignore you. It's only when you're standing in each other's presence that you can use anger as a tool instead of a weapon.

What I try to do is to first draw the framework so that the other person, as open as they are, feels protected from my anger - or if they're somewhat defensive, helps them lower their walls and listen. "I love you and you mean the world to me. I would like to talk to you about something that has been going on that has left me very angry. I'm not going to attack you with that anger. What I'm hoping for is that you'll listen, share your perspective with me, and help me find a solution to the reasons I'm angry."

If the person starts mouthing off, I find it useful to reflect on the fact that because of the way I'm approaching the situation that I have control over a very powerful force - my anger. And therefore, I'm very powerful or I wouldn't be able to control it. The noise they are making is simply the barking of little dogs and a powerful bear doesn't pay it any mind.

When we attack with anger, what we've done is release all control over that force. Instead of addressing a threat, we become the threat. It's why angry confrontations spiral out of control and devolve into name calling and insults so quickly. Right out of the gate, we're energetically screaming, "I'm going to hurt you!" and it takes a very special individual not to react to that kind of energy on our part.

Learning Release and Control

It's tremendously difficult to learn a skill without practicing it. There are very few of us who have someone in our life that we can go to and say, "I'm really pissed off - do you mind if I practice letting my anger out at you?" Since anger changes whatever it touches, even pointing it at a willing third-party isn't a good idea.

What I do is get a large rock - somewhere between the size of a softball and a cantaloupe - and designate it "the angry rock." Whenever I'm angry, rather than talking about it or navigating through it, I'll go over and place my hands on the rock. I don't squeeze and I don't physically assault the rock. (The last thing you want to do is connect anger and physical violence.) What I do is allow my anger to flow into the rock until it's either at a manageable level or completely gone.

This process teaches us to gently release anger in a controlled and measured fashion.

In earlier materials I wrote:

On my path, Earth is opposite of Air and represents unity through compression. While trees and plants sink their roots deep into the soil to hold themselves in place, it is the gravity created by our planet that holds all things to it. Soil nurtures life, holding it to the mortal realm. Even earthquakes and volcanoes are produced by tectonic plate movement, two plates compressing together until one of them slips or the growing energy finds a weak point through which it can escape.

Using a rock - symbolic of the Element of Earth - in this manner allows my anger to sink into the rock where it stays. Traditionally, I replace the "angry rock" once a year. The old stone is put at the base of a tree in the sunlight or placed in a mountain stream, so that the anger it holds can slowly slip away and be replaced by a more gentle vibration.

Professor George Vaillant, was quoted in The Guardian article as saying, "We all feel anger, but individuals who learn how to express their anger while avoiding the explosive and self-destructive consequences of unbridled fury have achieved something incredibly powerful in terms of overall emotional growth and mental health. If we can define and harness those skills, we can use them to achieve great things."

I agree with Professor Vaillant. What's more is that anger isn't a self-contained emotion, but part of our emotional spectrum. To repress one of our emotions is to limit all of them. Allowing ourselves to feel anger deepens our ability to feel all emotions including love and joy.

The challenge isn't that anger is wrong, but that we've never learned to control it. When we're young, we learned not to scream and cry over every little thing, but to pull ourselves together when necessary and appropriate. As we go through the puppy love stage of our lives, we learn not to fall madly in love with each person that comes along, but to honor a person's uniqueness and beauty without leaping in with everything we are. When it comes to anger, we're typically taught that we shouldn't be feeling it at all. How many of us have been told, "Don't be angry with me," or some variation of, "You shouldn't get angry about that. It's not worth it"? It is worth it - and anger is a very valuable part of who we are. The key is learning to choose an appropriate expression of anger, mastering the emotion rather than letting it master you.

Every warrior knows that those things that are truly valuable to us are worth every bit of effort, struggle, and sacrifice it takes to to achieve them. Sometimes the price is high. Sometimes, we simply battle ourselves and our own perceived weaknesses and limitations. No matter how challenging the process, mastering our anger and opening up our own personal power and emotional depth is worth every step of the journey, even when we find ourselves walking the harder road.

Thoughts? Comments? You can contact us at connect@oldways.com or interact with Jeffrey, Briana, and the Old Ways community on our Facebook page.

Originally published in Old Ways on January 7, 2011.