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The value of anger

To get my degree in psychology, I had to establish a specific hypothesis and then design and conduct experiments to either prove or disprove it. I based my hypothesis on the work conducted by Dr. Martin Seligman on Learned Helplessness.

Dr. Seligman’s theory is that an organism (dogs, rats, college sophomores, or other), when exposed to circumstances beyond their control will eventually give up trying to effect change. That doesn’t sound remarkable – why try to change your circumstances when they’re beyond your control? What is interesting, though, is that even when circumstances change and the organism can effect change, they don’t because they no longer have the ability to even recognize that they now have control. They have literally learned how to be helpless.

The end results of learned helplessness can run the extremes of resigned acceptance and indifference to incompetence and burnout to severe personal depression.

Dr. Seligman and others continued this research and further expanded the theory to conclude that the level of helplessness a person experienced was directly dependent on how much they internalized the cause of the helplessness. In other words, if a person attributed the lack of control to something within themselves, they’re going to experience learned helplessness at its most extreme. They’re going to get severely depressed.

For my work, my hypothesis was that the degree of helplessness a person experiences can be mitigated by another emotion – anger. The way to cure helplessness? Piss the person off.

Sorry. I know you all wanted me to say something along the lines of “learned optimism”, enabling personal empowerment, love, joy, or some other form of positive emotionalism. No can do. In the work I conducted as a senior in college and in my own experience, I have found that, at times, there is no healthier or more motivating emotion than anger. And anger, more than any other emotion, is the one most suppressed by society.

Is a loved one ill? Accept that it’s God’s will. Job sucks? Accept that only a few people have good jobs. Has a disaster hit? Accept that it’s a result of bad karma. Don’t waste your time trying to fight back and, whatever you do, control your temper – you’ll live longer if you do.

Anger has become socially unacceptable.

Well, that’s just bullshit.

Revolution isn’t based on calm reason, but the fact that enough people became angry at the status quo and fight to effect change.

People don’t fight injustice because, in a moment of love for humanity, they decided to devote time to fighting the injustice. The people saw something that made them angry, and their love of humanity helped channel that anger into positive results.

If we all followed the dictate of “accepting God’s will” as an explanation for illness, we wouldn’t have doctors – we’d have more priests. And a lot more dead people.

Now, anger can be destructive, as we witnessed recently with the shootings at LAX. Usually, though, this type of out of control anger is based on the very thing that we’re fighting – learned helplessness. Except, instead of becoming internally self-destructive, the person externalizes the destruction, literally going ballistic.

Healthy anger isn’t out of control – it’s not red-faced screaming accompanied by acts of unpurposeful destruction. Healthy anger is not shooting innocent people at a ticket counter, nor is it road rage, or abuse of loved ones.

Healthy anger is passion and purpose, determination, and change.

Anger led to the Civil Rights movement and stopped the Vietnam war. Anger prevents corporate monopolies and brings down corrupt politicians. And anger can heal.

Anger applied effectively and appropriately, is not only healthy for an individual – it’s necessary for a thriving society. If it’s angry people that forge a new society, it’s the gently melancholic, the intellectually pessimistic, and the complacent and indifferent people that destroy it.

Go ahead, get mad. You’ll feel better.

An archive of this page, with comments, is at the Wayback Machine

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Rocks

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

As some of you know, I collect rare minerals, in traditional crystalline habit, thumbnail sized, and with matrix.

All of which is just a fancy way of saying that I collect crystals.

I started the collection years and years ago with a watermelon tourmaline cross-section, soon joined by dioptase, azurite, rhodochrosite, barite, cinnabar, and so on. I now have what is a fairly impressive collection for an amateur.

Barite

Now collecting crystals isn’t as easy as it might sound; the crystal collector is faced with two major obstacles – the Rip-off Artist and the Mystic.

The RO-Artist is the person who solemnly assures you that Herkimer Diamonds are the Real Thing, when you know that they are nothing more than a commonly occurring variety of quartz. They’ll sell you glass and call it topaz, or push lab-grown crystals as natural.

Azurite

My favorite RO-Artist experience was at the 2001 Tucson Gem & Mineral show. I forayed into the small sideshows held in the motels throughout town, an experience not for the neophyte collector as anything goes — anything — in the sideshows.

In one motel room, I was negotiating for a nice rhodonite crystal when a man appeared in the doorway with a small micro-mount containing, as he assured one and all, a piece of the Moon. He then entered into spirited negotiations with mine host of the rhodonite for the price of the specimen.

Apophyllite

After a bit of haggling back and forth, mine host had to decline the $1500.00 asking price with a sad comment about “…it being worth ten times the price”. At which point both gentlemen fell into an expectant and hopeful silence.

Excuse me, but do I have rube printed in big bold letters across my back? I bought the rhodonite and left.

Fluorite

Of course, I wasn’t always the victor in these little encounters, and I have several specimens of dubious heritage in my collection. However, I’m particularly fond of these little mistakes, because each is a celebration of my willingness to take a chance, to explore outside the safe confines of the main show – to risk possible failure in the hopes of finding that one special gem, that one important piece.

If the RO-Artist is a unique and interesting challenge, they at least entertain rather than irritate, and that brings me to the Mystic.

In one rock shop, I was examining a lovely rose quartz cluster when a woman next to me started telling me about the mystical powers associated with rose quartz.

“Rose quartz will strengthen the bonds of love.”

It’s a rock.

“Rose quartz also has healing energies, particularly if your illness results from a loss or special sadness in your life.”

It’s a rock.

“I have a special rose quartz crystal that I keep beside my bed at night.”

It’s a …. lady, you need to get a life.

Rose Quartz

For the most part, I tolerated the Mystic because they had the best intentions at heart, however there was one encounter with a Mystic that left me cold.

A friend of mine, Joan, was (and is) into every New Age gimmick in the world – crystals, astral photography, pyramids, the whole bit. Because she is my friend, I also supported her in these little adventures because they were harmless and brought her joy. What’s a little mystical power of crystals between friends?

However, several years ago, events took a darker turn when Joan was diagnosed with breast cancer.

In the midst of her traditional medical treatment, including chemo-therapy and surgery, Joan discovered a Mystic who recommended a retreat, fasting, and several unusual and potentially dangerous sounding treatments. In alarm, I insisted on going with my friend the next time she met with this “miracle worker”.

The Mystic seemed ordinary enough and at first she didn’t say anything unusual or harmful – the necessity of peaceful surroundings, extra sleep, spring water, eating more of certain types of foods known to be high in anti-oxidants. However, as the conversation progressed, she started getting into the need for Joan to undergo unusual procedures such as daily colonics, week-long fastings to achieve a “pure” state, and so on. At that point, I intervened.

“Why must Joan fast for a week?”

She must rid her body of the pollutants that are interfering with her healing process.

“Isn’t it dangerous for Joan, already in a weakened state, to go without food of any form for a week?”

She would be given herbal teas, and participate in group meditation, which would give her strength.

“What’s contained in the teas?”

Various healing and soothing herbs.

“What herbs, and how will the group meditation give her strength?”

At this point, the Mystic, sensing an unbeliever answered with the response all charlatans have used since the dawn of time: the experience is spiritual one and I, as an outsider, couldn’t possibly understand.

I pulled an Older Sister/Close Friend routine and got my friend the hell out of there. When I got home, I took my favorite dioptase crystal – the beauty of my collection and my pride and joy – and put it into a small, hand-painted wooden box lined with cotton. Giving it to Joan, I told her that this crystal had special powers. In the darkest moments of fear, I told her to take the crystal out of the box and to hold it tight and remember that it represented the most healing power of all – love.

Several months later Joan gave me back the dioptase, telling me that she no longer needed it. She was going to be just fine.

Dioptase

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Earthlink DSL

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

After a week of trying to get DSL setup and having it work for exactly one day; and after a week of Earthlink not returning calls or following through on promised actions, I’m throwing in the towel. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look as if any other DSL carriers serve my particular area, though I’ll call Southwest Bell/SBC tomorrow and hope for the best.

I guess the next step is to check out cable modems.

On the bright side, the complex where the townhouse is located has a lovely group of white-tailed bunnies, racoons that get stuck in the dumpsters – and a rabid, vicious cricket that trapped me in the laundry room today.

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More angry voices

From the archives, Wayback Machine has an entry including comments from 2002

Interesting comments on the Value of Anger posting. As I expected, this is not a subject that people tread lightly. However, I was surprised at how personally some people took this posting.

For instance, Dave Rogers disagrees, strongly, with the concept of “healthy anger”, writing:

Anger isn’t some transcendent experience. It’s a temporary (hopefully) abnormal condition. Let it go.

Frank Paynter was actually “pissed” because Mike Golby and I talked about the healing power of anger. He wrote:

Anger is a bad thing. It comes from fear, and it inspires fear. Fear has a proximate cause. Root out the cause, displace the anger. Anger sucks. Angry people rationalize inhuman behavior. Angry people foster hostility and resentment in others. Angry people haven’t learned a loving acceptance that transcends helpless acceptance. Angry people are stunted in their personal development.

And both Jonathon and Dorothea saw themselves as “gently melancholic and intellectually pessimistic”, taking exception to the line If it’s angry people that forge a new society, it’s the gently melancholic, the intellectually pessimistic, and the complacent and indifferent people that destroy it.

Considering that I was wrote this line after reading a book based on a period of time 1000 years ago, I wasn’t expecting immediate identification. However, this shouldn’t be surprising. No matter how technologically advanced we get, no matter how we see ourselves advancing as a species, we’re still nothing more than humans experiencing human emotions. Love. Hate. Joy. Compassion. And Anger.

Anger is a part of us. It’s been a part of us before we ever attached a name to the emotion so that we could discuss it rather than act it out. To deny anger is to deny ourselves. Might as well deny love – it, too, can lead to destructive actions.

I don’t know about anyone else, but I have no interest in being a saint. And I have no interest in denying my capability for love or anger. I would hope that I expend my love on those that return it – to do otherwise leads to a great deal of pain. And I hope that I can control my anger and use the energy it generates for something productive, such as fighting the current political administration.

Mike had it right – anger is sharing.

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Burningbugs

Today was hot and humid, which meant the fireflies were out, in force, at dusk. One particularly frisky little bug hovered in front of the living room window, seemingly infatuated with the magnificant glow of the small light by the window. Zzz. It said. Zzz. Zzz. Callous light just glowed steadily, ignoring the little critter.

How sad, this lost moment
and the love that was not meant to be;
The little burningbug
who lusted after electricity.

I didn’t see my first firefly until I moved to a house on Grande Isle in Vermont several years ago. The place was surrounded by fields, high up on a hill overlooking the lake, the closest neighbor hid by a bank of trees.

During the summer, thunderstorms would roll through, magnificent expositions of lightening and rain. And at dusk, in the cooling moisture, bright lights would begin to appear. A shy glimmer here, a quite moment of luminosity there, until the field was aglow with the delicate white lights, dancing in and among the plants.

Was this was my most perfect moment in Vermont? Or would it be held by that winter day, when the sun fell coldly on pure white snow, brilliant blue sky overhead reflected in the ice on the lake. And across the unmarked white field in front of the house hopped a red fox.

Later that night, we threw the switch that lit the lights on a tall evergreen far out in the field. The tree lights reflected on the snow, like fireflies flying about in the cooling mist of a summer night.