It's mostly a defense mechanism. A fleeting emotion that arises when something does not go your way, someone betrays your trust, or something equally undesirable occurrence in one's life. Yet, with this said, anger, as we know it, is not a real emotion.
Underneath any degree of anger in any person, you can find the root emotion, the true emotion. The deepest of sorrows. An epic sadness. And it is usually such a deep, deep sadness, one you almost cannot relate to. One you cannot help or do anything about. And the frustration of your helplessness, the mere heat of realizing you are one powerless soul who can do so little to change the course of the universe - that is the true essence of anger.
In this helpless haze, many people make rash decisions, attempting to take a hold of what is going on around them. A fruitless attempt to rid themselves of the powerlessness, usually. This, then, transforms sadness into a frustrated rage, an outlash of emotion in all forms. In reality, the anger that can be seen on the face of a three-year-old toddler whose mother refuses to buy a desired toy is the exact same anger that afflicts the face of a woman seeking revenge for the murder of her loved one. They are both helpless, frustrated, inconsolably sad, unable to find a way to remedy the situation, and in the end may resort to animal instincts, spurts of emotion, to grasp on to every last bit of power they have to coerce the universe into bending to their needs. Anger is a hurtful sadness that overcomes reason.
Anger isn't real, and perhaps because I realize this, I never feel angry about anything. I have been betrayed, hurt, and life has been less than fair to me, yet I do not get angry. I never take out my emotions on another person, and I forgive other's angered comments or actions very easily. When someone is sad and feels helpless, and are using a defense mechanism, a shield of "anger", the last thing you can do is walk away. Most people put up shields so someone will take them down. Walls are built around us all because we sit inside, quietly hoping, patiently waiting, for someone to come knock them down. We yell at people and get angry at them because we want them to know how helpless we feel. Many people fail to realize this, however, and these helpless people end up alone in life and lead fruitless lives due to people misunderstanding their true feelings and perpetuating their lonely sad interiors.
The only thing that can outweigh this is compassion. Compassion is the only thing that can work through the superficial emotion of anger and remedy the underlying sorrow and hurt. And maybe if that compassion spreads, less people would feel the need to put up their shield of anger to the world. Perhaps anger and hatred could be eradicated entirely, if people only understood, and reached out their hand and touched the soul of someone in need of warmth. Now, this seems as hopeless a goal as solving world hunger, you say.
Well, I say, just as solving world hunger, isn't it worth the try?
--
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Thursday, February 7, 2008
#3 - Fate.
This is one of those tricky topics that I can't seem to find a definite stance on. My...confusion, for the lack of a better word, has caused much grief to those who have debated with me in the past on the validity and existence of this phenomenon of "fate." And I don't blame them, because I have no clue what to believe.
I was raised in a household that was very Hindu, and by a mother whose main philosophy consists of fate driving her life. She believes in divine intervention, superstitions, the evil eye - those sort of things that alter your life because "fate decided it so." Everything that happened was God's grace, or God's punishment, or it was "meant to be." At times, I feel she confused the idea of "fate" with the idea of God, a higher being, or a higher conscience that guides you through life, not determines your life. This is very different from the predestination, predetermined life, sort of phenomenon that Calvinists, and my mother, seem to preach.
Frankly, it's unsettling, the notion that we have very little control over what we do and that someone out there is delicately designing our lives. It's quite scary, actually. (I just got a chill down my spine, similar to how I felt after watching The Matrix). I like to think that most, if not all, of the events that occur in our lives are a direct or indirect result of our own actions. If you get run over a car (apologies for the gory example), maybe you didn't look both ways. And even if you did, why were you crossing the street in the first place, knowing it might have been a rowdy, unsafe crossing. Or if it isn't, maybe you were taking a longer lunch break than usual, so it caused you to be on that street at the same time the car was speeding (this is more a karma-related example, I guess - a debate I'll save for a later post). Although that was a pretty horribly thought up example, you understand my point. You, in a sense, build and mold your own fate.
Though, you have to wonder. Those medical miracles, tornadoes ripping apart brick homes, yet leaving the family intact inside, even true love and the idea of "soulmates", aren't they all too good to be true? There has to be some divine business going on - it's too perfect, right?
Or maybe, consider the following (totally stole that from Bill Nye): We just don't give ourselves enough credit. Everything miraculous that happens, that's "too perfect" to be true, may as well be our higher evolutionary smarts getting to work. We can clone sheep and perform delicate surgeries using a programmed computer, so why can't we take a little bit of credit for things that happen in our lives?
But at the same time, giving ourself credit for the good means we have to take responsibility for the bad, as well. Most people simply don't like to do this, and therefore, voila, the idea of fate and the fact that it is responsible for everything comes into play and makes everyone happy (or at least content). I suspect my mother falls into this category somewhat. But hey, I'm no one to judge... I do it to occasionally. I am my mother's daughter. Everyone does to an extent, I think. It boils down to the human instinct of taking responsibility for the good, and blaming anything and anyone for the bad. Fate just fits the bill for those who don't like pointing fingers at other people (God doesn't seem to mind, I guess).
It's just very interesting, and twice as more befuddling, this concept of fate. Alas, perhaps I'm not fated to figure it out after all.
--
I was raised in a household that was very Hindu, and by a mother whose main philosophy consists of fate driving her life. She believes in divine intervention, superstitions, the evil eye - those sort of things that alter your life because "fate decided it so." Everything that happened was God's grace, or God's punishment, or it was "meant to be." At times, I feel she confused the idea of "fate" with the idea of God, a higher being, or a higher conscience that guides you through life, not determines your life. This is very different from the predestination, predetermined life, sort of phenomenon that Calvinists, and my mother, seem to preach.
Frankly, it's unsettling, the notion that we have very little control over what we do and that someone out there is delicately designing our lives. It's quite scary, actually. (I just got a chill down my spine, similar to how I felt after watching The Matrix). I like to think that most, if not all, of the events that occur in our lives are a direct or indirect result of our own actions. If you get run over a car (apologies for the gory example), maybe you didn't look both ways. And even if you did, why were you crossing the street in the first place, knowing it might have been a rowdy, unsafe crossing. Or if it isn't, maybe you were taking a longer lunch break than usual, so it caused you to be on that street at the same time the car was speeding (this is more a karma-related example, I guess - a debate I'll save for a later post). Although that was a pretty horribly thought up example, you understand my point. You, in a sense, build and mold your own fate.
Though, you have to wonder. Those medical miracles, tornadoes ripping apart brick homes, yet leaving the family intact inside, even true love and the idea of "soulmates", aren't they all too good to be true? There has to be some divine business going on - it's too perfect, right?
Or maybe, consider the following (totally stole that from Bill Nye): We just don't give ourselves enough credit. Everything miraculous that happens, that's "too perfect" to be true, may as well be our higher evolutionary smarts getting to work. We can clone sheep and perform delicate surgeries using a programmed computer, so why can't we take a little bit of credit for things that happen in our lives?
But at the same time, giving ourself credit for the good means we have to take responsibility for the bad, as well. Most people simply don't like to do this, and therefore, voila, the idea of fate and the fact that it is responsible for everything comes into play and makes everyone happy (or at least content). I suspect my mother falls into this category somewhat. But hey, I'm no one to judge... I do it to occasionally. I am my mother's daughter. Everyone does to an extent, I think. It boils down to the human instinct of taking responsibility for the good, and blaming anything and anyone for the bad. Fate just fits the bill for those who don't like pointing fingers at other people (God doesn't seem to mind, I guess).
It's just very interesting, and twice as more befuddling, this concept of fate. Alas, perhaps I'm not fated to figure it out after all.
--
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