Sandra Heska King

daring to open doors

  • Home
  • About
  • DISCLOSURES
    • Amazon Affiliate
    • Book Reviews
  • Published
  • Contact
  • Blog
    • Commit Poetry
    • Dared

Anger’s Invitation

May 30, 2012 By Sandra Heska King

I wake up angry.

And I’m angry about it.

I’m angry that Lyla’s making us do two whole chapters at a time, and I know I’ll have to go through this book again and take my time, and I’m afraid won’t.

I’m angry that I can’t answer even one childhood question–the ones Julia says will help us restore the persons we’ve abandoned. Like the question about a favorite toy. I don’t know. Although I do have a picture of me with an old Brownie camera and a fishing pole.

I’m angry because that makes me wonder if I had a real childhood or if I was too responsible even back then. The questions make me remember things like sprinkling and rolling and refrigerating my dad’s white shirts–the ones he wore while bartending (his second job)–then pulling them out to iron on a summer morning while my parents worked and I babysat my pesky brother who had probably crawled out the window and was hiding behind the cabins or the outhouse.

I’m angry because I haven’t been able to kept up with my morning pages, and when I finally sit down to write this morning after I take Grace to school, I keep dozing off. Could that have anything to do with the fact that I had nightmarish dreams last night and my husband woke me up at one point after hearing me repeat some word over and over (it was “Jesus, Jesus” in my dream–and one of those times when you’re trying so hard to squeeze words out of uncooperative vocal cords) and the I let out a “high-pitched scream.” He said I sounded like a child. Hmmmm.

And by the way, I use an 8-1/2 by 11 spiral notebook with college-ruled pages. Maybe I should switch to wide-ruled. Or altogether blank.

I’m angry because I look around and see so much that needs to be done. And people need me.

And all. I want. To do. Is write.

Finally I kick off my Keens.

Yes, kick. And they land in the midst of the unpacked.

I yank on sensible socks and tie up tennies and grab my camera and drive three miles (only three!) to a little spot where I’ve wanted to linger for years.

Years!

Why haven’t I done that?

And I remember how my mom said she liked when I got mad at my high school boyfriend because I crocheted much faster on the afghan I was making for her.

Julia has some things to say about anger.

Anger is meant to be listened to. Anger is a voice, a shout, a plea, a demand. Anger is meant to be respected. Why? Because anger is a map. Anger shows us what our boundaries are. Anger shows us where we want to go. It lets us see where we’ve been and lets us know when we haven’t liked it. Anger points the way, not just the finger. In the recovery of a blocked artist, anger is a sign of health. ~page 62

I must be pretty healthy.

She goes on to say:

When we feel anger, we are often very angry that we feel anger. Damn anger!! It tells us that we can’t get away with our old life any longer. It tells us that old life is dying. It tells us we are being reborn, and birthing hurts. The hurt makes us angry.

Anger is the firestorm that signals the death of our old life. Anger is the fuel that propels us into our new one. Anger is a tool, not a master. Anger is meant to be tapped into and drawn upon. Used properly, anger is use-full.

Sloth, apathy, and despair are the enemy. Anger is not. Anger is our friend. Not a nice friend. Not a gentle friend. But a very, very loyal friend . . . It will always tell us when we have betrayed ourselves. It will always tell us that it is time to act in our own best interests. Anger is not the action itself. It is action’s invitation. ~page 62

I hang out for an hour, only coming home because I have to go to the bathroom. The anger has fizzled with the river’s flow–for now.

 

We’re working on weeks 2 and 3 — “Recovering a Sense of Identity” and “Recovering a Sense of Power.” Come join the discussion over at Tweetspeak Poetry as Lyla continues to lead the charge through The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron.

Share this:

  • Email
  • Print
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest

Filed Under: stories and reflections, writing

Comments

  1. Nancy Franson says

    May 30, 2012 at 3:40 pm

    I’m not reading Julia’s book, but I have been enjoying reading so many of your responses to it.

    I think if I were reading it, I probably would have chucked it at something or someone by now.

    And…when did you switch over to Comment Luv?

    • Sandra says

      May 30, 2012 at 4:12 pm

      Ha! I wish you were. Reading along that is. And it might be fun to watch you chuck.

      I’ve always had Comment Luv…

  2. Carol J. Garvin says

    May 30, 2012 at 5:21 pm

    You’ve identified a lot of sources of your anger, and that you wanted to write… but in the end you chose to escape everything, including your writing. Hmmm. Wonder what that says. 😉

    While I read it some time ago, I recall being surprised that Julia’s evaluation of anger’s usefulness didn’t include any acknowledgement that anger is not always justified because sometimes it’s an indication of selfishness and resentment. (Not that I’m suggestion yours was!) Amid the search for a lost identity God reminds us it’s occasionally necessary “to deny ourselves.” Caring for the person he created means finding a balance that includes time for our renewal and recreation, time for others, and time for him. When life crowds us, we don’t tend to keep the balance, but steal from ourselves instead of pinching bits off all the demanding entities. We need to learn how to do a better job of balancing.

    • Sandra says

      May 30, 2012 at 9:14 pm

      Awwww, man, Carol. Here you come with your wisdom again. I thought I was grabbing an artist’s date, but maybe I *was* running away. So now I need to think about that. At least I got some photos (that’s creative, right?) and I came back to write about it. 😉

      You are exactly right about the balancing act. I’m still learning to do that. Wonder if I’ll ever get that down.

      Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?

  3. diana says

    May 30, 2012 at 5:51 pm

    Wow, Sandy. This is pretty much my response, too. Although it comes out somewhat differently. I’ll tell you what though, that anger generated some GORGEOUS PICTURES. And that’s worth more than you think, friend. And these words? Valuable and real. So…maybe it’s working? I keep trying to tell myself that at any rate. Now to get the DANG PAGES done.

    • Sandra says

      May 30, 2012 at 9:18 pm

      I keep telling myself that I might find some great surprises if I’d just get those pages done. If I could just make and keep that habit of daily spillage. And look at it as a meditative exercise–a time of not only writing my thoughts but His. It’s apparently a well-proved creative aid.

      And thanks. 🙂

  4. Megan Willome says

    May 30, 2012 at 6:11 pm

    I must be pretty healthy, too, because since I made anger my friend, she has been very, very loyal.

    And like you, dear Sandy, my childhood is clouded with adult responsibilities and cares. Five favorite foods? Good heavens! I can’t name even one.

    • Sandra says

      May 30, 2012 at 9:09 pm

      I thought of a favorite food! Campbell’s Soup (probably chicken noodle.) But I had to have the same kind Soupy Sales was serving. And I could have it instead of liver–as long as I didn’t throw a fit about the liver cuz then I had to eat the liver.

  5. Jennifer Richardson says

    May 30, 2012 at 8:49 pm

    I love this.
    feeling honored to be able
    to share in
    your fresh raw honesty
    poured out so beautiful.
    Heart thumping grateful
    over every. single. word.
    thank you, braveheart,
    Jennifer

    • Sandra says

      May 30, 2012 at 9:20 pm

      Thanks so much, Jennifer. 🙂

  6. Linda says

    May 30, 2012 at 9:03 pm

    I started that book TWICE Sandy – and didn’t make it past the first couple of chapters either time. I understand. I hate trying to figure out things about me. Those kinds of questions leave me a bit angry too.
    So….the pictures are stunning, and you, dear friend, are an exceptional writer.

    • Sandra says

      May 30, 2012 at 9:24 pm

      Wasn’t it just last week that I was spouting determination? I *want* to figure these things out about me. So it’s frustrating to run into roadblocks. But as long as they are needful things and not just sloth or procrastination–I can deal with that. 🙂 I do wish you were along for the ride.

      And thank you, dear friend. Have you decided if LL will be a go for you yet after your move and all?

  7. Maureen says

    May 30, 2012 at 10:03 pm

    I read her book a few years back. Some of it I had to skim – was too heavy for me. Maybe it was the part on anger?? I have stuck with my three morning pages since then (although I use a smaller spiral, 9 1/2 by 6)(the smaller size is do-able for me)(and I don’t always do them in the morning)(is that too many parentheses?) A book like that, you take what you can, learn, and move on to create, like you did with your photos, especially the shadows on the water. I can feel the cool breeze, the anger drifting away. Good job.

    • Sandra says

      May 30, 2012 at 10:33 pm

      I think there’s a legalist in me that says if there are 10 tasks, you do 10 tasks. If the sign says to say on the path, you don’t step into the grass. So I get frustrated when I can’t follow all the instructions. Thinking I probably need to explore that issue. 🙂

      And thanks.

  8. Cindee Snider Re says

    May 30, 2012 at 11:53 pm

    I don’t know if it’s an artist’s date or running away — or maybe running hard right into the very heart of God? — but your words, your photos, your honesty are worth every roadblock. Sometimes I think we try too hard to put ourselves, our actions, motives, heart intent — God — in a box, label it nice and neat so we can itemize action steps, draft a plan and do something, make progress, grow, anything quantifiable. But isn’t the growing sometimes underground, in the dirt, in the muck, in the darkness where we can’t even see?

    I don’t love The Artist’s Way, but fascinated by the reactions. I’ve been staying just outside the reaction stage, because since my injury, anger costs me too much physically. I’ve had to learn to stay calm or I literally can’t breathe, can’t swallow, can’t talk, can’t move because of the pain. And it takes days for the nerves to settle and allow the muscles to relax. I’m not sure that’s necessarily good either, but I have definitely become a more calm and thoughtful person. Ahhhhh…God! Beautiful gifts in the midst of the muck.

    Love You, friend. And I’m already looking forward to next week’s discussion. 🙂

    • Sandra says

      June 2, 2012 at 8:06 am

      Oh Cindee! Exactly. EXACTLY! Maybe I wasn’t so much running away as running to. Because it’s in places like this where I find His gifts, His artistry, and all I want to do is reflect Him. And maybe I’m angry because there are so many–too many–times I don’t.

      Yet still, I think part of the anger is due to my lack of discipline. For not doing the things that need to be done in their time. So I often create my own muck.

      But if we don’t live in the muck, learn the ways of the muck, how can we help others out of the muck?

      So I guess working through this book IS helping me to discover and face some things about myself–and the best place to take those are to Him.

      Thank you for this! Loving you right back.

  9. Sandy Marsh says

    May 31, 2012 at 1:21 am

    I know that all the posts (completely unrelated ones) about anger are definitely an indicator that God may be trying to tell me something…and I really don’t look forward to the pain of that rebirth.

    • Sandra says

      June 2, 2012 at 8:10 am

      Anger is usually the result of–a coverup for–underlying emotions–fear, disappointment, loss–and if we can just recognize it for that and then ask God to show us what birthed it…

  10. Diane BAiley says

    May 31, 2012 at 7:08 am

    Applause! I know what you mean, You are speaking my language. We also have that book, though I have not read it yet, my husband has.

    • Sandra says

      June 2, 2012 at 8:11 am

      And what did he think about it?

  11. Donna says

    May 31, 2012 at 8:15 am

    Oh yeah, I can relate… and I had to chuckle because my morning pages gave me a heck of a time today (trying to use my laptop which is against all the rules but my hands fall asleep when I write more than a few minutes by hand and my pc was crashing). I decided to use a journal SMALL pages lol! It made me happy to break another rule (me who hates to drive against the arrows in an empty parking lot)!!! Grrrr and ha ha! Take that you pissy anger inducing morning pages! So, the thought of your BLANK pages gave me a whole heap of pleasure to consider!!!

    As for unjustified anger, I don’t see it possible anymore to feel unjustified anything…. it always points a finger at something, but it is not the direction it is the finger… it’s up to us to figure out what caused all the wagging to begin with- somewhere under all the layers of why it’s okay and not okay to blame or not blame is the raw kernel of truth that makes the pulse race and the face redden. It might be a body memory from a time when we were too young to speak but old enough to feel. We stored it away. As feeling. I have a feeling that it’s when we put inaccurate words to it (bc it catches us off guard and we try to figure it out but our memory can be faulty and we don’t go deep enough) that we fall into blaming in the wrong direction…

    Your photos are spectacular! The one of the light on water caught my eye. It’s magical to capture LIGHT on WATER, don’t you think?

    • Sandra says

      June 2, 2012 at 8:17 am

      ” . . . it [unjustified anger] always points a finger at something, but it is not in the direction of the finger . . .”

      What an important truth. And maybe sometimes it IS justified. A righteous anger. A table-tossing, Keen-kicking anger (I didn’t toss a table) that has shows us where we are putting ourselves before God. That we need to point that finger at and set our focus on Him.

  12. Lyla Lindquist says

    May 31, 2012 at 8:07 pm

    Sandy, I really like what Maureen added here. Give yourself some room to do what works. All of Julia is not for all of us. (Surely not for all of me. 😉 ) Take what you can, let the rest go. And since we’re taking at a little bit of a gallop, feel even freer to do that. Pick a couple of things, go back to others later. Maybe years later. 🙂

    Even Julia says to just do some tasks, not all — pick a couple that appeal and a couple you resist. You know which parts you resist because they’re what you might need and which parts you resist because they’re crap. (Yes, you also know I just said and meant that.) Love you, friend.

    • Sandra says

      June 2, 2012 at 8:18 am

      So you’re okay with my being a little mad at you? Ha!

      Love you more. 🙂

  13. imperfect prose says

    June 3, 2012 at 6:07 pm

    i must be pretty healthy too 🙂 i had a good vent with trent last night. or AT trent. sigh. anyway, this made me feel better. i love julia cameron. and i love that you just kicked off those shoes and wrote.

Trackbacks

  1. The Artist’s Way: Conclusion | TweetSpeak Poetry says:
    June 27, 2012 at 7:56 am

    […] Sandy let herself get flat out angry one day, and L.L. put Julia-strength hands on her hips and defied the Craftsman lawn mower as a place to begin. […]

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Flickr
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • RSS
  • Twitter

Meet Sandra

I’m Sandra, a camera-toting, recovering doer who’s learning to be. still. Read more…

Get updates from the stillness by email

Your personal information is safe and will never be shared.

Archives

Categories

Instagram Inspiration

sandraheskaking

I tossed and turned all night. And then the storm I tossed and turned all night. And then the storm started. I finally got up about 5ish and sat outside to watch. Until a couple mosquitoes found me. Also, the jasmine hadn’t gone to bed yet and smelled heavenly.
Sunday evening. That is all. Sunday evening. That is all.
“The news is not and never has been, because it “The news is not and never has been, because it doesn’t talk about the small moments. Moments that matter to individuals, whatever they do or do not do in the grand scheme of things. And it is in those individual moments that belong to people, that deserve to be faced and remembered as much as every big, world-changing disaster. And nature, because it exists in the details, is too easy to elide, even when trying to talk about it.” ~ Sara Barkat in her introduction to Earth Song: A Nature Poems Experience
🍃
I had to look up “elide.” It’s not a typo. 😊
🍃
Sara goes on to write, “The structure of this book is that of a piece of music. The poems are to be read in order…”
🍃
The first poem she includes is Sara Teasdale’s “Lost Things” that starts, “”Oh, I could let the world go by / It’s loud new wonders and it’s wars / But how will I give up the sky…”
🍃
Good morning sky. Good morning moon. Good morning little bird flying to the moon. Good morning red bottlebrushes nodding in the breeze. It’s good to emerge from this Covid fog. Day 10.
“Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to “Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood. . . Let me keep company always with those who say “Look!” and laugh in astonishment and bow their heads.” ~ Mary Oliver in “Mysteries, Yes”
🌱
No way could anyone ever convince me that this world in all its beauty and creativity and mysteries is here by accident.
Food truck night with a newcomer—@crepstick. So Food truck night with a newcomer—@crepstick. So yummy! I hope they come back.  But maybe not too often or I’ll have to do double time on the exercise.
“Embrace this day knowing and showing the world “Embrace this day knowing and showing the world that your God is more than enough for you.”
🌿
@tamiheim @tonibirdsong 
In @stickyJesus: How to Live Out Your Faith Online
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the str My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion.” Psalm 73:26 (ESV)
🌿
I’d almost forgotten what quiet mornings on the patio were like. (Quiet except for the birds and the sound of the neighbor’s AC.)
So yesterday I saw my cardiologist. It was the fir So yesterday I saw my cardiologist. It was the first time he wanted to see me in 6 months instead of a year. He said my aortic stenosis had gotten worse. Like on the cusp of moderate to severe. 😬

So the first thing he asks me is, "How's you daughter?" Wait. Isn't this supposed to be about ME?

Then he asks if I've had any symptoms. "Well, I don't know. Maybe. I felt a little dizzy out of the blue a couple times. And felt like I couldn't catch my breath. I wouldn't have paid any attention if I didn't know I was supposed to be watching for symptoms. I DID walk all over Israel and up a bunch of steep hills, even all the way up to the Golan Heights--against the wind--without anything but normal fatigue.

He laughs. "I created a monster." Ummm, yeah.

"Have you been exercising?" 

"Well, yeah. We walk a couple miles a day. I'm back on my Nordictrack Strider." I didn't tell him I'd been lifting some light weights and some very heavy boxes and other items during this renovation, though I was told in December not to.

So he listens to the beating of my heart. Then he says, "Well, I don't think the valve is ripe yet. I don't expect you to have symptoms for three or four years. You don't need to come back for a year."

Wait! So you ask if I have symptoms. But you don't expect symptoms--yet. And when I do have symptoms, someone is gonna do something. And then I'll be older and maybe weaker. Or what if I have some sudden and silent symptom and boom! And now I have to worry about that. 

(In other news, my oldest grand texts me the other day, and our conversation runs like this... (continued in comments)
Last weekend we were in northern Michigan. And the Last weekend we were in northern Michigan. And there were lilacs. They even shook their heads over tornado-induced devastation. Look for the beauty and sweet scents in the midst of the mess. I miss the lilacs.
Yesterday’s morning view. We haven’t seen the Yesterday’s morning view. We haven’t seen the sun all day today.
When the folks in my hometown of Gaylord, Michigan When the folks in my hometown of Gaylord, Michigan ate their breakfast Friday morning, they had no idea what terror and devastation they'd face before dinner. Everyone has a story. You've probably seen pictures.

If not, take a peek at @mlivenews .

My great-nephew, not quite 12, had just gotten home from school when the EF-3 came down the street and left its mark on every home. My niece frantically tried to find her way from work through debris and blocked roads. My sister was 30 miles away visiting my dad in rehab. I don't want to know how fast my brother-in-law drove. 

The house and yard took a hit, worse than some, not as bad as others. A mobile home park was demolished--two deaths there. I heard one person is still missing. So many injured. So much awful. But the town is coming together for each other. Pray for them.

We plan to fly up Thursday--already planned to celebrate my dad's 95th birthday. 

Also, if anyone feels led to help, the Otsego Community Foundation and Otsego County United Way are accepting donations. Note “Tornado Relief.” Beware of any other fundraising requests.
Cutting tonight’s walk short. Stupid blue jay. N Cutting tonight’s walk short. Stupid blue jay. Not this one. A different one. But still. (My niece believes blue jays are a visitation from Grandma—my mom.) 
My shirt says “Walk in love. But I’m not feeling very loving. And if it WAS my Mom AKA Mother Mary Esther of the Order of Perpetual Birdwatchers, I’ll bet she’s having a good laugh. A passerby said she heard it was good luck and I should buy a lottery ticket tonight. In other news, I also banged my hip bone against our bed’s footboard and gave myself a mighty bruise. Then I burned my arm on the top of the grill. I did manage to wash all the knives without cutting myself and didn’t start any fires. So how was your day?
And now… “From the rising of the sun to the pl And now… “From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the Lord is to be praised.”
The world’s a mess, but His mercies are new. The world’s a mess, but His mercies are new.
When we were in Israel last month, we visited @yad When we were in Israel last month, we visited @yadvashem - the World Holocaust Center in Jerusalem. There wasn't enough time to spend nearly enough time. 

The Valley of the Communities was very moving. It's a labyrinth of stone from which there seems no way out. Our guide said It gives an idea of the endlessness of the horror. His parents emigrated from Vilna (the Jerusalem of Lithuania), before the Holocaust. In 1935, thirteen of his family members still remained there. By 1945 only one--an uncle--had survived. He wrote a book about them from a bundle of old letters. "One story out of millions."

"This memorial commemorates the Jewish communities destroyed by Nazi Germany and its collaborators, and the few which suffered but survived in the shadow of the Holocaust."
#Israel2022 #HolocaustRemembranceDay
“From my favorite spot on the floor, I look up a “From my favorite spot on the floor, I look up at the blue sky and the bare chestnut tree on whose branches little raindrops shine, appearing like silver, ” Anne Frank wrote in the Diary of a Young Girl. Watching the tree change through the seasons her family spent in hiding in an attic gave her hope. The Holocaust Memorial Center is one of only eleven sites in the United States to receive a sapling from that tree. I stand at “her” window and imagine hanging hope on a tree.

"It happened, therefore it can happen again: this is the core of what we have to say. It can happen, and it can happen everywhere.” ~ Primo Levi

From a post I wrote for @tspoetry after a visit to the @holocaustcenter.

https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/2016/07/27/regional-tour-holocaust-memorial-center-farmington-hills-michigan/
Stunning tree I parked near at Bible study yesterd Stunning tree I parked near at Bible study yesterday. I was in a rush and failed to snap the whole tree. I need to run back before the flowers fall. I think it’s a jacaranda? I want one.
Speaking of birds... bluejay in my backyard this a Speaking of birds... bluejay in my backyard this afternoon. I thought he was hurt, but I think he was just trying to cool off. (Maybe it's a young one.... unless it's the light?)
Someone should do something about that dog. She’ Someone should do something about that dog. She’s yelping and carrying on like she’s in some awful pain.
“Now in the place where he was crucified there w “Now in the place where he was crucified there was a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid.” ~ John 19:41

“But the angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay…’”~ Matthew 28:5-6

Many wonder if this tomb, which lies just a few yards west of Golgotha could be the place where Jesus lay and rose. I wish we could have lingered longer here in this garden and in the tomb itself. It was easier for me to imagine the events of that weekend happening here than in the heavily incensed, decorated, dark and crowded Church of the Holy Sepulchre… though my hairdresser said her old boyfriend “got chills”’when he entered that tomb. We did not go inside that one because the line was way too long. 

At any rate, the most important thing is that he tomb is EMPTY and HE IS RISEN!

HAPPY EASTER!
#Israel2022 #GardenTomb #Easter
Load More... Follow on Instagram

Get the Mug

Embrace the life you have t s poetry mug

Privacy Policy

Full privacy policy is available HERE.

I Read Light

TSP-Red button

bibledude-net



Sponsor a Child

Join the Compassion Blogger Network

[footer_backtotop]

Copyright © 2022 Sandra Heska King · Site by The Willingham Enterprise, LLC on the Genesis Framework by StudioPress · Log in