Jesus insisted (Matthew 10:34ff.) that this idyllic Kingdom he preached would not be, as some traditional pastoral pundits suggest, all peace and love. There would be violent fighting. Fight is a word, btw, that I detest, because it’s combative, inimical, dangerous, often weaponized. I aspired to “kingdom” membership, so I found a way to fight for it without fighting.
* * * *
Over my lifetime I’ve learned to fight for myself more than against others. I often fail. Still, I know that I can’t do this well, or with accuracy, without, yes, my anger—my fuel, my energy supply.
I’ve come to call my “fighting” process sounding and grounding.
Sounding means clarifying my deepest desires, values, yearnings, fears by talking openly to trusted friends, family, professionals.
Grounding means making sure my emotions—my energy suppliers—are firmly planted in the soil of my own flesh, not flying all over the place.
I learned how to fight back in the 70s when I didn’t get what I wanted, which was to be ordained a priest in the Episcopal Church. I just kept knocking on doors as if begging for alms of understanding. Some women helped. Some men helped. Family helped. Acting out helped. Love and sex helped. Prayer helped. Good trainings, therapy, and chaplaincy jobs helped. Most of all, my Crockpot helped, because it cooked very slowly and taught me to simmer.
Simmering, ordination, new love, were not quite enough. I needed to explode.
I told my therapist I felt restless inside.
She asked if my energy were an animal.
I assessed her as crazy.
She turned away and went to her desk.
Stunned, I pulled out my checkbook to pay for the session.
As I wrote, the bull, unbidden, burst into the scene.
I snorted.
I roared.
I bellowed.
I pawed the rug with my foot.
ROAR.
RAGE.
CALM.
PEACE.
My rage receded, as most storms do. I felt fully grounded inside myself, and fully sounded out by this therapist who had returned to her seat and sat in front of me with a smile—becalmed.
For the very first time—the very first time in a couple of years—I noticed that this woman, this therapist named Carol, was, yes, beautiful, radiantly so.
