that presented regular opportunities for outbursts of rage. I routinely availed myself of those opportunities until, one day, I just happened to notice that there wasn't anything pleasant about rage. Quite the contrary. It was awful. So I paused to consider why I was letting myself feel so bad and quickly realized that my anger had its source in a toxic combination of injury and impotence: I felt hurt and there really wasn't anything I could do about it. The rage was simply fuming over what I would do if there were anything I could do.from Frank Wilson: When Falls the Coliseum: That's What He Said: What do we mean by 'happy'?
~~~~~~~~~~~
No comments :
Post a Comment