Explore Our Culture of Anger and Resentment

The anger and resentment so ruthlessly promoted by Donald Trump has seeped into my soul. These past few weeks I notice I am more prone to self-righteous and self-justifying states of mind. I often wake in the darkness of the wee hours and am overwhelmed by thoughts of how I have been wronged and find myself obsessively planning conversations and actions that might ‘even the score.’

Of course I have good reasons. I am in a complex situation where some of the organizational forms of my life that have worked quite well are no longer functioning smoothly. Relationships that seemed settled have turned out to be more complicated than I was aware. Things that were working for me, it turns out, weren’t working for other people. I’m in a time of transition – old forms dissolving and new forms emerging.

This time of personal transition seems to eerily mirror the turmoil and change happening on the national and international level. Whether my individual situation is merely infected with the turmoil of the greater world or whether both are the manifestation of a deeper human time of breakdown, change and emergence, I have no way of knowing.

But whatever the cause, I am most susceptible in the early hours of the morning. When I naturally drift into a lighter sleep, instead of rolling over and mercifully returning to rest, my mind turns toward particular people and events and I am jolted out of sleepiness into a visceral sense of injustice and urge to action. Like drinking several cups of strong coffee in a millisecond, I get a rush of heat and energy. I enter into a state of high alert, as if I am in imminent danger from mortal enemies.

I suppose this is how some dogs feel when the postman comes, or when a stranger makes an unexpected move. The house must be defended! Something must be done immediately! Woof! Woof!

This must be how Donald Trump feels in the early morning when he sends his profligate tweets of condemnation and blame. In the middle of this visceral urgency, the mind is convinced of its righteous victimhood and demands some kind of action. I feel unjustly accused and persecuted. My mind filled with fear and urgency.

Since it has happened so often over the past few months, I have had a wonderful (?) opportunity to study this particularly pernicious human phenomena. The cycle often begins when I am tired and unfocused. One thought leads to the visceral response which leads to more thoughts which in turn increase the visceral response – a perfect self-reinforcing cycle – a dark momentum of self-righteous impotence. In this self-enclosed world, I generate a ‘clear’ picture of the world that is utterly convinced of its own objectivity.

This morning, like many others, I found myself half-awake in the early morning darkness. Remembering this pattern, I vow to not let my mind go to those places that I know will take me down the road of anger and resentment. This is harder than it sounds—like trying to keep your tongue from exploring one more time that tooth that is so sore. I feel the a seduction of these places of blame and resentment. Though painful, these places are very solid and, in their own way, quite thrilling. They are places of enormous energy – though the cost of living and acting from these places is a bargain with the devil. The darkness seems to have the power to use us. We enter a dark trance and loose touch with the mutuality of all life. From here we are at risk to act out our worst selves—all the while feeling great pride at ‘taking a stand’ for what is true and right. We fall into the delusive certainty of ignorance and can cause great harm while feeling perfectly self-righteous.

But this morning, I have some success in choosing something else. Instead of focusing on the inflammatory people and events of the past, I stay with my breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Staying with the sensations of this body lying between these sheets in the space of floating awareness, I slowly notice that the urges to go to those places of pain lessened. I come into an awareness of a small but pervasive disquiet. I’m not in terrible discomfort or agitation, but aware of a subtle vibration of unease feels like the ground of my experience.

The Buddha’s first teaching was that discomfort and dis-ease are unavoidable. I often imagine this a great suffering. But Zen teacher Ezra Bayda writes about this as the ‘anxious quiver of being.’ This feels like a pretty accurate description for where I am this morning.

           I don’t go back to sleep, but lie in bed rather peacefully amidst this low level agitation. I notice that the summer birds, on solstice morning, begin to sing in the Temple garden at 3:30 a.m. I wonder what sentences I might use to begin writing about this. I imagine a zig-zag scar running down the inside of my thigh and try to imagine what that might mean. I remember the great blue heron I saw yesterday morning and try to remember the symbolic meaning of heron – those great and ancient birds that stand so still and upright in the shallow water – waiting and waiting with a grand and patient urgency.

It’s not that there aren’t things I need to address in my personal situation. I need to acknowledge my power and speak my truths. I can be clear with others about my intentions. And I can steps to stop and/or resolve points of conflict. But the wild cycle of anger and resentment must be experienced and seen through if there is any hope of moving forward, not simply creating more suffering.

Finally, at 4:00 I sit up, stretch and begin the rest of my day.