What images come to mind if I ask you to think of a rose bush? Perhaps blooms of red, pink, yellow or white furled around shadowy depths? Or did you envision prickly thorns concealed by saw-toothed leaves? Perhaps a cloying aroma that tickles the back of your throat? Unless you are a gardener, I doubt you considered the rose bush’s hairy roots stretching through garden soil to lap up the remnants of the latest rain shower. Yet, there is no rose bush without the roots to sustain it.
What comes to mind if I ask you to name the predominate emotions circulating in our collective field? Anger ranks high on my list as I have been feeling strong waves of it lately. Since I’m usually sanguine (my friend’s word - not mine), I’ve had to ask myself —where is this anger coming from? Is it mine? You may recall from the issue on emotional contagion that—just like viruses—we can catch emotions from other people. I came to the conclusion that yes—I had contracted a contagious emotion… but it isn’t anger. Anger is merely a thorn. Buried below the surface is the more insidious root—the emotion of fear.
Consider the thorny topics generating the most heated debate. If we trace the stems of those prickly barbs to their roots, we find trepidation about our foundational physiological and safety needs according to Maslow’s hierarchy. Affordable housing is in short supply. Extreme weather events threaten homes and crops. Anywhere people congregate in large groups—schools, grocery stores or concerts—is a viable target for inconceivable violence. As shifting demographics reshape our communities disparate cultures are forced to coexist. In addition, the support systems that sustain us during periods of change have not fully recovered from the isolation of the pandemic or have broken apart over political divides. Of course, we feel fearful. How could we not?
Why Anger Feels Preferable to Fear
Fear is an uncomfortable emotion. Vibrating at 100 Hz, fear engenders a sense of vulnerability and impotence. It prods our survival instinct with icy fingers. At 150 Hz, anger thaws the helplessness of fear. Anger feels powerful, legitimate — even righteous. It’s a more socially acceptable emotion. Instead of owning our anger, we can point to what “they” said or did as rationale for making us feel angry. As Dr. David Hawkins points out in his book Letting Go: The Pathway of Surrender:
“We typically feel so much guilt about anger that we find it necessary to make the object of our anger “wrong” so that we can say our anger is “justified.” Few are the persons who can take responsibility for their anger and just say “I am angry because I am full of angriness.”
Although anger might feel better than fear, any chronic low-frequency emotion will take a toll on our health. The energy required to sustain anger depletes our body’s ability to fight infections, eliminate pre-cancerous cells and replenish bones, blood and muscle. Recurrent anger damages the cardiovascular system. According to Dr. Hawkins, depression, headaches, arthritis, hypertension and lack of physical stamina are some of the dis-eases that can arise from persistent anger.
Steps to Dissipate Fear and Anger
Trace the anger to its roots. Unearthing the origins of our anger enables us to identify the fear that nourishes it. Sometimes merely facing our fears head-on loosens their hold on us. Through deep introspection, I identified the fears that had ignited my irritability. With its roots exposed, my anger lost its sustenance.
Remember that anger is a choice. Shrug off criticisms as unworthy of your time and attention. Recall the words of Eleanor Roosevelt, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” When people disparage my YouTube videos or weirdly-colored hair, I get to decide whether to feel wounded or not. If someone lobs an unkindness in your direction, step aside and allow it roll away.
If it persists, consider what you can learn from your anger. Ask yourself why the situation makes you angry. I find it immensely insightful to approach this exploration in writing. It make take several journaling sessions but eventually the “aha!” will happen. Understanding your hot buttons disables them.
Anger can be a powerful motivator. When something upsets me, I allow myself a grace period to wallow in my emotions before taking constructive action such as changing my behavior or adjusting my expectations. Withdrawing, retaliating, complaining or trying to change someone else is not constructive action. Clinging to resentment accomplishes nothing except damage to our health.
What do you think are the predominate emotions right now and how are you processing them? I would love to hear your thoughts.
Letting Go
For a deeper exploration of emotional wellbeing, I highly recommend Letting Go: The Pathway of Surrender by David R Hawkins, M.D., Ph.D.
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