A Field Guide to Anger
Once upon a time, I regarded anger as a single beast. When I investigated further, I realized it’s a whole menagerie. Some are noble, and some are mangy scavengers. A few are ghosts that never got the news that the war ended long ago.
I’ll name the riffraff first.
The Ricochet originates in an old wound and bounces around until it hits an innocent target that’s standing nearby. When my computer freezes, I’m suddenly furious, but I’m not really furious at the computer. (And what good would that do, anyway?) I’m mad at a feeling of helplessness I had as a child. The computer just happened to be in the line of fire.
Junk-Food Anger is what I snack on when I scroll through the news. It tastes delicious for a few seconds. It gives me a jolt of righteous sugar, then it leaves me bloated and depleted, and I haven’t changed a thing in the world.
Proxy anger shows up when I’m not brave enough to be angry at the person who actually deserves it. So I get irritated at the slow driver or the guy in front of me who takes too long giving his order at Starbucks. These are scapegoats I conscript so I won’t have to have the difficult conversation I’ve been avoiding.
There’s Ghost Anger, which defends me against enemies who left my life long ago. It’s still standing guard at a gate no one has approached in months or even years, still clutching its spear and waiting for an attack that’s never coming. I feel a strange tenderness toward this one and seem to provide it with special leeway.
Habit anger arrives because it has always arrived in situations like the one I’m in. It has no information to give me. It’s just a groove worn into my nervous system.
All of these are compulsive, reactive, misplaced, irrelevant, and wasteful. They burn fuel and go nowhere. They make me stupider. They love to be retold and embellished. They grow fat on repetition.
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Now I’ll survey other kinds of anger.
Clean Blade is an anger that arrives quickly, cuts exactly what needs cutting, and then goes back in its sheath. It doesn’t linger or fester. It says “No, that’s not okay,” and then it’s done. I feel lighter afterwards, not heavier.
There’s the Guardian, which rises up when someone is trying to trespass on my soul’s territory, whether it’s my time, my body, my creative work, or my love. The Guardian draws the line in the dirt, and it doesn’t need to shout, because it knows exactly where the line is.
Midwife anger helps me see truths I’ve been half-hiding from myself. It births surges of heat and light that reveal what I’ve been pretending not to notice. With a relieved shock, I see what I actually want. The Midwife is a clarifier that strips away the delusional fog.
Compass is an anger that points toward an injustice that really does need my attention. Not the cartoon outrages served up by the algorithms, but the specific, actionable wrongs that I’m in a position to do something about.
These angers are real and deserved. They’re a form of fierce love that protects what’s precious. I welcome and appreciate them because they’re on the side of life.
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So how do I tell the difference? I’ve gathered clues over the years. The wasteful kinds feel sticky and gooey. They loop, repeating the same sentence in my head a hundred times. They’re vague about what they actually want and make me feel righteous and superior.
The healthy kinds feel clean. They’re specific, pointing toward a boundary or a change, and once I take action, they dissolve. They make me feel more like myself, not more like a victim or a judge.
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As an astrologer, I think of this as the difference between Mars in its exalted state and Mars in its debased state. The planet of anger is the source of courage, desire, initiative, and the drive to defend what we love. Without it, we’d be mush. The question is never whether to have Mars energy. The question is whether we’re feeding it garbage or giving it good work to do.
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Here’s what I do now. When anger barges in, I ask it, “Are you a messenger or a squatter?” If it’s a messenger, I listen to its news and thank it. If it’s a squatter, I acknowledge that it once served a purpose and tell it goodbye.
Sometimes it takes a while to figure out which one I’m dealing with. Sometimes a single blast of anger is half messenger, half squatter, and I have to separate the gold from the gravel.
But the inquiry itself changes everything. The moment I ask the question, I’m no longer possessed by the anger. I’m in a relationship with it. That’s where the magic begins.
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Listen to my song “Unhappy Hour”:
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BOOK OF ANGER
I predict there will come a day when my fury at the world’s injustices will become so sublime that I’ll sit down and write The Book of Anger in one sustained three-week frenzy of creative indignation. It will be filled with stories that inspire those who read it to express their unique sacred wrath in constructive ways.
Until then, I will work to sublimate my rage so it doesn’t leak all over everything. I’ll honor it by honing it and treasuring it as a precious resource, alchemically blending it with my compassion so that it will always be expressed in the name of love.
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Raw truth: My rage is a holy fire that scorches moldy veils and purges false clarity.
True intention: I call forth my intelligent fury in an ecstatic refusal to abide idiocy and villainy in silence.
Real zeal: I invoke my wisest wrath not just to name what I reject, but to compost what must rot so wild benevolence can flow.
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My new book Enlightenment for Rebels: Celebrating Our Wild and Sacred Earthly Selves in Jubilant Defiance of Disembodied Spirituality is available at online stores, and you can get a 25% discount here: tinyurl.com/SacredEarthySelves
Also available as an inexpensive e-book.
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FREE WILL ASTROLOGY
Week of October 15
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): One morning soon, I predict you will open your inner eyes as well as your outer eyes and discover that you feel freer than you have in ages. Old specters that once pestered you will seem strangely powerless. Worn-out customs will have loosened their hold, and an ancient obligation will finally be settled. By some grace that neither you nor I can quite explain, at least some of the chains you fashioned in your own mind will have fallen away. What then? Celebrate! Host a personal “Out of Captivity” party, and give yourself a day or two to revel in your newfound liberty. Once you’re ready to make purposeful use of that delightful independence, ask yourself: “Where in my life do I most need a clean beginning?”
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): Not so long ago, you got hints and clues that you were on the verge of getting a taste of tantalizing and off-limits treats. Weren’t you ready to accept when the invitation suddenly dissolved? And by now, haven’t you nearly stopped expecting to enjoy another chance? Then imagine your surprise if that temptation winds its way back to you soon. When you finally take a bite, it may taste and feel nothing like you anticipated. The wisest move will be to let go of your old assumptions and welcome the experience as it is. My prediction: You’ll be delightedly surprised by how deeply and sweetly it alters the way you understand reality—even if at first it feels disorienting.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): Your upcoming challenges call to mind a feat once accomplished by conservationist and entertainer Steve Irwin. No, you won’t, as he did, feed a huge crocodile by hand while holding an infant in your other arm. But you may need to bring together qualities that seem at odds: fierceness and tenderness, a wild spirit and a protective instinct, boldness and love. Luckily, I am very sure you will summon the power and flair to do that.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Ecologists have found that transition zones, like where forests meet meadows or where land meets water, can support high biodiversity. They may include species from both neighboring habitats as well as species adapted to the distinctive conditions in the boundary zone. I propose we make these places your power metaphor for the coming weeks, Capricorn. You, too, can flourish in edge habitats. Instead of feeling compelled to choose one identity, community, philosophy, or style, appreciate your role as a translator between worlds. Your greatest gifts may emerge because you refuse to belong exclusively to any single camp. Revel in your fertile in-between-ness.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): After pondering what might bring fresh vigor to your love life, I’ve arrived at an audacious suggestion: Offer a smoldering prayer while making love to a saintly soul in a place you regard as sacred. If that combination proves impractical, try just one or two parts of it: Pray wildly during an intimate encounter; flirt with or even seduce a person of uncommon goodness; kiss and hug and cuddle in a setting that feels holy to you; or speak to the divine in a titillating language you wouldn’t use in a formal religious service. The point is to let sensual delight and spiritual longing meet rather than keeping them apart.
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): You sometimes regard pleasure like a reward you have to earn through suffering, as if joy were a luxury item requiring payment in pain. But I have an alternate theory: Relaxed glee and earthy enjoyments are essential nutrients that are key to your health. So in my view, denying yourself beauty and comfort depletes you. I hope you will heed my guidance in the coming weeks, which is to treat yourself to almost more fun, happiness, bliss, and amusement than is allowed by law. See if you can break all previous records for rejuvenating delectation. New law of your universe, at least for the next four weeks: The quest for jovial gusto and zesty zeal are mandatory aspirations.
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ARIES (March 21-April 19): Before Aries-born Maya Angelou became a celebrated author, she was San Francisco’s first Black female streetcar conductor, a calypso dancer, a cook, a journalist in Ghana, and an actress. She didn’t publish her first memoir until she was 41. She spoke six languages and refused to believe that any single identity could contain her. I offer her as your role model in the coming weeks, Aries. It’s time to celebrate the wondrous truth that you don’t have to be just one thing. In fact, the astrological omens suggest you’ll thrive by rejoicing in the many disparate selves you are and have been and imagining new ones you might like to add. How kaleidoscopic do you dare to be?
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Here’s a hypothesis worth entertaining: You don’t fully know everything you want. Not yet. Not at the core, where desire isn’t well-behaved but turns wild and intense. Your fluency with surface desire can sometimes keep you from excavating the mysteries that live below it. The familiar longings override the stranger, stronger ones that haven’t found their bearings. So there are aspects of your primal yearnings that remain unexamined, simply because they require a particular stillness and courage to unearth completely. The good news: Now is an unusually favorable time to go looking.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20): Is your mental agility a gift or curse? It depends on whether you use it to avoid taking a stand or else deepen your understanding. In the coming weeks, Gemini, I hope you will practice the cagey skill of holding multiple truths simultaneously without letting that multiplicity become an excuse for never choosing or never committing. The goal is to encourage your magnificent mind to serve your heart rather than to override its tender wisdom. I love it when you unleash your clever analysis and it doesn’t devolve into sophisticated evasion.
CANCER (June 21-July 22): Astronomers searching for planets around distant stars rarely see the planets directly. Instead, they notice tiny wobbles in the stars or faint dips in their brightness as the planets pass in front of them. You can and should practice a similar art now. Dramatic evidence may be unavailable, so watch for subtle shifts in mood, timing, synchronicity, and atmosphere. Small disturbances may reveal important hidden influences. Your most useful discoveries won’t come from looking harder but from noticing more gently.
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): Glassblowers repeatedly place molten glass into blazing furnaces as they shape it. They don’t heat it once and expect it to stay pliable forever. Again and again, they return it to the fire so new possibilities become available. This reminds me of the current chapter of your life story, Leo. Emotional intensity keeps recurring, repeatedly returning you to the heart of the heat and pressure. This may sometimes feel like a test or ordeal, but I think it’s the best way for you to master the crucial lessons and ensure the healing transformations. Be patient as you forge your masterpiece.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Master storytellers know that memorable heroes are admired because they continue moving despite uncertainty. Courage entails a resilient and affectionate partnership with doubt. I hope you’ll remember this if your confidence temporarily flickers in the coming weeks. There’s no need to waste precious energy trying to eliminate every hesitation before taking your next meaningful step. Let your questions accompany your convictions. They may sharpen your judgment. The coming weeks favor brave, thoughtful action, not flawless self-assurance.
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This is a wonderful, eloquent and wise posting. Thank you, Rob.
…the inquiry changes everything. A lot of Anger in the Air these days and your words are wise and appreciated. Thank you Rob