Anger. It rises. An emotion in response to stimulus. The stimulus for you may be different than the stimulus for me. And so may the strength, or the intensity, of the emotion, the anger. But the end result is the same. The end result is the seething, the fuming, and the internal dialogue that fuels it. That feeds it. That makes it grow.
And yet there is a part of you and me that sees this anger, that recognizes it, that can name it, identify it. That part knows the anger, is conscious of the anger, becomes identified with the anger. It says, “Anger – I am that.”
But it doesn’t have to.
Can we step away from this anger? Can we take a step back? As we recognize anger for what it is, an emotion that rises in response to stimulus, can we separate from it? Can you separate your anger from whatever it is that you call you?
What happens when you do that? What happens when you take a step back? What do you notice?
When you admit to yourself, “I am angry.” Or better yet, “I have become anger.” What happens?
Do you realize that whatever is this thing I call “I” is not anger itself? That it is only that which sees the anger? That which knows it?
What is that that knows anger has risen? Because that is you. You are that. That which sees. Which knows. Which is aware.
You are not the anger itself. You are the inherent peace in which anger rises. Peace is simply a state of rest, and anger is a disturbance in the rest that is peace. It is temporary. Feel this. It’s true.
And when you step back and see that, you return to the peace that observes anger rising, and falling.
Because anger cannot survive for long under observation, under this gaze. It has to feed to survive, and it cannot feed on observation. It can only starve. It may subsist for a time, and you may feel at peace yet full of anger. But peace persists, whereas anger fades when not resisted.
It’s possible to know both peace and anger at once. But only one will last. One subsumes the other. Peace is the one.