MM proded Wolf Dog closer and closer like a Nazi would do to a Jew in the 40's and my brain was flashing fight or flight faster then a broken strobe light. Q had already decided to fight, but as chief general of our army of 2, I strategicly choose to lose the battle in order win the inevitable war of keeping Q alive. MM kept his eyes sqaurely on me as the target of his Anger but Q was the bait, and while I wanted to blow MM's angry head off with an M15 rifle, I didn't have one handy, so backing off was best.
In shock I staggered a few feet in retreat and saw an empty rum bottle sitting on the stone wall of the church garden. I wondered if MM had just polished it off for breakfast, then began plotting my revenge. I wanted to find MM and beat him with a baseball bat Brooklyn Dodger style. I wanted to hit a home run with his head. If the same scene had occured 2 years ago, I would have not had the self control to hold onto my coffee or my sanity.
I've since grown into someone with a fair amount of self control, at least when it comes to street crazies and wolves. That may sound like a given, but I know first hand that when Anger is swallowed but not fully digested or released in a healthy way, it manifests into rage and that's what happened today with MM and ME.
Like a parasite living quietly below the surface feeding off it's host, Anger eats away at the host causing the host to inflict pain on innocent bystanders. Look at Isreal and Palastine. Suicide bombing anyone?
Underneath layers of anger are usually layers of un-addressed pain. This is most likely how Ghandi, The Dali Lama, Christ, Budda, and all the other highly evolved beings through history have stayed peaceful in the face of extreme anger. They must have known that the people who wanted to destroy them were in a state of living hell, and they knew not what they were doing. I beleive that when humans are cut off from the source of life giving light (love) that darkness takes over, and we become prisoners of our pain.
So, now an hour or so after my morning attack by demons, wolves, and madmen, this mother is sitting here with her son cuddling on her lap, feeling grateful for not having turned into a vengeful werewolf. I'm happy to have enough love in my life and in my heart to feel some compassion for MM and for those like him walking the earth like the living dead. Anger is contagious and I don't want that disease.
I wonder if Wolf Dog sits on his lap and licks his rotting wounds for him, or if they live in a dirty basement tied up in opposite corners of the room while rats run circles waiting to feast on the misery? On that note, I"m going to take a baptismal shower now and wash off the black energy from my psyche. Why do I feel like howling at the moon?
