Are Arten and Pursah Real?

The question of whether Arten and Pursah are real often comes up in relation to questions about whether Gary Renard is a fraud. His writing revolves around Arten and Pursah’s teaching; his ACIM practice is intimately connected to their appearance and his relationship with them. Is it possible he made them up? And what happens if he did?

In general, I have no qualms about recommending Renard’s work to course students. Whatever drama Arten and Pursah present, their perspective on the course is traditional and – salty language aside – unremarkable. You can get pretty much the same thing from Ken Wapnick, albeit without spiritual histrionics. What works for you?

Also in general, I tend to shy away from characterizing course-related material in terms of “right” and “wrong” – or, in this case, “real and “unreal.” Rather, there are only helpful and unhelpful teachers and books and approaches. Again, it is a question of what works for a given student at a given point in their learning. Gary was helpful to me in the first year or so of my study; after that, not so much.

But to me that speaks to the helpfulness of his work, not its “rightness” or “wrongness.”

A Course in Miracles suggests that those of us who want conflict are going to find it. Diving into the question of whether Arten and Pursah are real or unreal is a good example of that inclination. Why does it matter? What about your ACIM practice will change based on one or the other answer?

As I mentioned, I read The Disappearance of the Universe early in my studies of A Course in Miracles. Someone I trusted lent it to me. And I loved it. It was easy to read, it was reassuring, it broke down some of the harder metaphysical ideas and concepts and made them accessible.

Yet as I dove deeper into the course, I started to stumble into a lot of the conflict that swirls around Gary. There’s the whole question of whether Arten and Pursah are real or just clever marketing devices. There’s his debates with other course teachers. There’s various other fantastic claims that he makes. There’s the way in which he hawks longevity vitamins.

I am not immune to conflict! I also like to be right and – by being right – to prove other people wrong. So I indulged that drama for a while.

But here’s the thing. At the same time I was given Renard’s book, I was also given Tara Singh’s book Nothing Real Can Be Threatened. And that book – its gravity, its clarity, its grounded reassurance, its love – literally entered my being as if it was breathing me. I was lifted by Tara Singh. I was changed.

And as Tara Singh’s teaching took hold and directed my learning, Renard’s work and the conflict that surrounded it just . . . faded. I wasn’t interested because it wasn’t helpful.

I felt strongly then – and still feel now – that we have to take what works and not lose sleep when something doesn’t. In A Course in Miracles Jesus reminds us to ask of everything: what is it for? (T-4.V.6:7-9) If it’s not taking you closer to Heaven and God – as measured by your happiness – then drop it and move on.

If we want to be distracted by conflict, we can be. But there is another way.

Of course, this does not answer the question: are Arten and Pursah real or fake?

For me, Arten and Pursah are real creations of Gary Renard by which he brings forth his understanding and practice of A Course in Miracles. I do not believe they are real the way my wife or my dog or my horse is real. I understand that reasonable and thoughtful course students disagree with me. I understand that Gary Renard disagrees.

And I have no interest in fighting with them over that. Again, if it works for you, then use. And if it doesn’t, then don’t worry about it.

Very few of us are called to attend the learning of anyone other than our own self. It is not my job to protect A Course in Miracles from other teachers, be they Marianne Williamson or Gary Renard or Liz Cronkhite.

It is okay to say “no” to a course teacher. I do this with Gary but only after I said yes for a while. I said “yes” to Tara Singh and have yet to need to renounce or amend that embrace. I said “not yet” to Liz Cronkhite and then “yes” and then “no.”

My point is that you are allowed to take any position you like with respect to Arten and Pursah, and the position you take will be the one that is most helpful to you at this stage of your learning. That might change with time and it might not.

When we find ourselves investing in conflict, it can be helpful to ask what the conflict is for? Is it deepening our forgiveness practice? Is it helping us understand parts of A Course in Miracles that are complex? Is it supporting our brothers and sisters in their study?

Or is it distracting us, by feeding an ego narrative that we are right where somebody else is wrong?

Tara Singh spoke often about the “lovelessness” of suggesting that we “get it” and others don’t. In general, it is not a helpful place to be.

If a text or teacher is helpful, then great. Make use of it. Share it. Learn from it. We are going to get where we’re going anyway, and the Holy Spirit and Jesus can and will use everything that comes along to help us remember that we never left our home in God, and that the way to remember is to extend love to our brothers and sisters. We can count on that. That is dependable.

Finally, I note that the course teaches us early on that whatever meaning something has, we have given it that meaning (e.g., W-pI.2). Whatever value we perceive in the world, be it positive or negative, we put it there.

In Disappearance of the Universe, Arten and Pursah make the following observation with respect to their reality.

It’s not necessary for your readers to believe in us. Our words can benefit people whether they have trust in us or not. It’s the Holy Spirit’s message that matters – not those who appear to be bringing it.

This is a good point! And goes very much to the question of helpfulness. By all means ask yourself whether Arten and Pursah are real. Look into it. Find the answer that works for you. But remember always that what informs your seeking and learning is love, and that the form love takes – be it Gary Renard and his ascended masters, Tara Singh and his service-oriented teaching, or Liz Cronkhite and her coach-based teaching model – will vary and shift, without ever diminishing the love that is the ground of our shared identity.

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Reading: John Beavin’s “The Parable of the Stars”

One of the more interesting – and challenging – aspects of being a Course in Miracles student is my desire to share it. It’s not an inherently bad impulse at all, but if I’m not careful in the application it can be a bit tricky.

For example, a lot of my close friends and people that I work with on a daily basis, have major issues with Jesus and Christianity. They’re happy that I’m happy but for them, the Course is just another failed branch of a tree they gave up on long ago. And when I try to talk about the Course without talking about Jesus, it doesn’t work. It’s just mushy philosophy, a cross between soft Buddhism and the Law of Attraction.

Even with friends who are perfectly happy to listen to someone talk about Jesus, I seem to stumble. It’s like I am having an interior experience – call it a bumpy transition from fear to love – that just won’t translate. Even with my wife and children I often feel an inept witness to this powerful, transformative experience.

So I have this longing then – this dream, say – for a text that is simple and clear and presents the Course in a way that isn’t too abstract, isn’t likely to alienate. I read a lot of Course material, and it’s all helpful in its way, but nothing has

A couple of weeks ago,  I read The Parable Of The Stars
by John BeavinIt’s an elegant and lovely text – fourteen or fifteen pages of story and images that goes right to the heart of the Course in a way that can certainly be renewing for long-time students but is also a blessing for non-students.

First and foremost, it’s fun to read. Like the parables of Jesus, it’s short – easy to partake of in a single sitting but rich enough to yield fruit for years. Parables, Beavin suggests, “allow us to observe logical occurrences which seem external to our lives, and then, gently, when we are ready, begin to see it really is our own story.” There is playfulness here, and joy.

The crux of the story won’t be unfamiliar to those of you who have spent any time with A Course in Miracles. There’s a beautiful light – existing as beauty itself, a condition in which no lack of any kind exists – and it suddenly explodes into billions of fragments.

Each of these fragments is a star wracked with guilt over the belief that they attained their individuality at the cost of destroying the original beautiful light. This guilt and fear causes them to twinkle, to frantically try and outshine their brother and sister stars, to take the place of the original light.

That doesn’t work, of course, and as some the stars give up in exhaustion, they hear the faint strains of a song sung by the original Light. It’s a soft, peaceful song that reminds the little stars that they already are the light they are struggling to become. They can relax. They are perfect the way they are. There is nothing to fix, nothing to improve.

Beavin has neatly and accurately translated the Course into a simple story about forgiveness, about remembering our true identity in Heaven. Reading The Parable of the Stars was like a playful push – this isn’t so difficult! – and I laughed when I was finished, because I was happy, because those blocks to love had shifted a little, had dissipated a little. That’s no small gift!

I gave the book to my wife to read. While she respects and honors my spiritual practice, she finds the text too obtuse. Her spirituality is deep and inspirational to me, and I have really struggled to share the Course with her in a way that isn’t overbearing. She read “The Parable of the Stars” and immediately connected it to the ideas she so often hears me babbling about. In fact, it has facilitated a deepening of our ongoing conversation about Jesus and God and our abstract spiritual identity, because it is the text we can share in common. “It’s like when the stars start twinkling . . . ” or “it’s like when the stars hear the song . . . ”

I also asked my 12-year old daughter to read the book. She appreciated it, too. I don’t ask her to read the Course, because she’s too young. I feel grateful that there is a text I can offer her – and my other children as they grow a bit older – that sums up Course principles. It’s not that I want my family to follow the Course because I do – but I do want them to understand and appreciate the choice that I have made, and continue to make. Beavin has absolutely created a work of art that facilitates that sharing.

The book is illustrated by Jennifer Bennett. The artwork actually reminded me of this quote from the book’s dedication (to Bill Thetford and Helen Schucman): “While the Course is, itself, the height of spiritual simplicity, overcoming our addiction to futile ‘twinkling’ usually requires a lifetime of studying and practicing the unique, life-renewing principles found in ACIM.”

I say that because the illustrations are so deceptively simple. Yet the more I look at them, the more beautiful and revealing they seem. They are a perfect addition to Beavin’s words, just the right blend of color and design. I think Beavin and Bennett are both deeply intimate with the delight of creation.

I’m a good example of a Course students who can be awfully serious. You know the type. Somebody cracks a joke during a study group and this guy doesn’t laugh because there’s no time for silliness. This is about waking up, damn it! And while I know that intellectually – and, yes, I’m working on it – there are still plenty of moments where I approach A Course of Miracles in a state of solemnity and gravitas that  is a poor substitute for the joyous peace and freedom we are promised.

In the end, this was perhaps was most appealed to me about reading Beavin’s book. The simplicity and playfulness was a useful counterpoint  to the part of my practice that wants to be professorial, masterful. In other words, it undid some of the specialness I feel about being a Course student. Reading “The Parable of the Stars” was like being reminded that this isn’t rocket science, that any time I want I can go home in joy and rest.

You can also listen to Beavin’s book on CD – his wife, Lainie Beavin narrates, and John handles the vocals. Their friend and collaborator, Tom Sciro, plays keyboards. I’m a reader by nature, but the disc is cool, too.

Anyway, over the years I’ve acquired a big library of ACIM material, but this gets a special place. When I want to share the Course with young friends or people who don’t want to be encumbered with what they perceive as overly religious or metaphysical language, this is my goto book.

 

Is There A Urantia Cult?

I’m on record regarding the Urantia Book as being relatively harmless. I’ve read parts of it, found other parts too dense and fantastic. The people I know who work closely with the text are uniformly kind and reverential and almost always happy. They like talking about the many aspects of Urantia, but they aren’t especially evangelical about it.

So I tend not to think of there being any kind of Urantia cult. Do I understand the inclination of some people to see it that way? I guess so. But the Urantia Foundation is a pretty solid and grounded group. And while the Urantia papers can seem wild and crazy, think for a moment on traditional Christianity. A guy gets killed and three days later walks out of the tomb where he was buried?

There is an unfortunate trend of taking anybody who is passionate about religion and spirituality and – if the object of their devotion is obscure, as the Urantia book tends to be – calling them a member of a cult. If that’s true, then Christianity started life as a cult.

But isn’t there a whole Urantia book hoax aspect to this? Aren’t believers in Urantia being led around by the nose?

I think the best thing any critic can do is take a look at the source. You can start reading the Urantia book online (and you can get a Urantia book pdf too). Why not read it? If it works for you, then take another step. Talk to somebody who is really trying to bring its truths into application.

If it doesn’t work, then shuffle off to the next spiritual enterprise.

Am I saying that there aren’t people out there who are over the top when it comes to Urantia? Sure there are. There are Buddhists like that, too. And Shintoists. And ACIM students who can’t stop trying to get everyone to join the club.

But we need to do two things. First, let’s not define the whole on the basis of one perceived part. And second, let’s actually decline to judge experiences that we haven’t had. If you want to knock Urantia, then get the text and start reading it. Everyone should try it. As channeled texts go, it’s entertaining and diverse. Parts of it are absolutely inspired. Other parts feel like poorly written science fiction or fantasy.

And doesn’t that just sound like another book you know?

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ACIM Urtext

On reading (and re-reading) the ACIM Urtext . . .

There is considerable debate in the ACIM community about which version of the text and workbook students should use. While the overarching conflict is not important, the version that we choose does in fact matter, largely because we want to be sure that we use one that works for us. As Ken Wapnick said at some point, you should read the edition that makes you feel less guilty.

(Note: Robert Perry’s thoughts on the editing of A Course in Miracles are thorough and relatively balanced. They are worth reading as one works through their own relationship with the ACIM material).

We all know the outline, right? Helen Schucman channeled what she called “The Voice” – which is transparently Jesus – wrote down in shorthand what it said and then dictated it to Bill Thetford who typed it up. There were several subsequent edits in the years that followed. Other people got involved in the editing and public dissemination – Ken Wapnick, Judith Skutch. Organizations sprung up – some ordained by Helen, some not – each with their own thoughts and ideas about A Course in Miracles. There was a lawsuit.There was wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Long story short? There are now several apparently different texts available to students.

I say “apparently different” because in my experience none of the version are substantially different from one another. The fundamental message remains the same. The world is a projection of fear and guilt, a result of our mistaken belief in separation and our habit of listening to ego. We can choose to listen instead to the Holy Spirit, who will teach us how to align our will with God’s Will and, in doing so, learn that there is only one Will and that Creation has no opposite (W-pI.138.2:1). We remember our shared interest with our brothers and sisters which in turn translates to the Peace of Heaven.

From this vantage point, it really doesn’t matter what version of A Course in Miracles we choose. They all share the same underlying message: we are innocent, and in our innocence is our salvation.

Also, most Course students have the experience at one point or another of realizing that they have to go beyond the text and workbook. These too are symbols of the separation and although they point the way back to God, they are not in and of themselves substitutes for God. The last lessons of the ACIM workbook are “as free of words as possible” in order that we might “seek to go beyond them.”

The Urtext is the first typewritten draft – it reflects what Helen Schucman dictated to Thetford. It is personal to the point of private, which was one of the primary reasons Ken Wapnick encouraged students not to read it. It was neither ready for – nor, according to Wapnick and other early ACIM practitioners, intended for – publication. Indeed, reading it does give one the sense that they are peering into a therapy session between Jesus, Helen and Bill.

If you are going to steer clear of the ACIM Urtext – or feel called to steer clear of it – that’s probably the best reason. It simply wasn’t intended to be shared that way. It arose as a site of healing between Helen and Bill and only subsequently reached a state where the audience could broaden. Both Helen and Bill seemed to feel – at least according to material that I’ve read (summarized, in an admittedly one-sided way here) – that it was meant to be revised before going public. Why not respect their wishes?

Yet for all of that, reading the Urtext does have its benefits. For one thing, as Robert Perry has correctly pointed out, it abounds in specifics. If you are curious about the meaning of a particularly abstract phrase or idea, chances are the Urtext has some examples or additional language that will help clarify it. This is especially true of the early chapters, which were the ones most subject to revision (a lot of that material was eventually excised, reordered or rewritten).

For me, the value of the so-called Urtext is in the way it makes clear that A Course in Miracles is meant to be practiced. It was meant to be lived, to be brought into application, and its application was nontrivial. When asked for an example of course principles being lived out in the world, Helen named Mother Theresa. The course is meant to be used in the world – we are called to be messengers of love and healers in a deeply pragmatic, even radical, way.

Some of the ACIM Urtext is confusing – or a little too intimate. It talks, for example, about sexuality and encourages miracle workers to give considerable attention to this area of their living. Seeing the body as a means for pleasure in any way is to indulge the ego – unless we can fix the underlying error (e.g., the belief that we are bodies). So long as we are sexually active, then spiritual sight remains all but impossible. This reflects details about the sex lives of Helen and Bill (which neither wanted to share with us), and feels overtly conservative and judgmental (reflecting, clearly, Helen and Bill’s sexuality). Like eating, sex is a use of the body that few of us want to compromise or surrender. The canonical text (published by the Foundation for Inner Peace) is silent on this issue.

So, arguably, the Urtext helps us to flesh out this important idea.

The other issue that one has to consider when reading the Urtext is the degree to which the teachings of Jesus need any editing. If the voice that Helen heard was Jesus of Nazareth, then why make any alterations? Reasonable people can certainly ask why the ACIM urtext was edited. Why did Ken step in and edit it? It’s true that those typewritten notes indicate that some material needs to be removed because it’s intended solely for Helen and Bill, but that’s actually a pretty small percentage. What about the rest? I think this is what motivates a lot of Ken Wapnick’s critics, the sense that he overstepped by effectively editing Jesus Christ.

But if you are close to that material, then you are less likely to challenge the need to edit it – which is a separate question from the quality of the actual editing. The early chapters of the first edition are sort of . . . clumsy. It’s true there are some real gems tucked in there, but by and large it reads like a first draft. Whatever channel Helen was using to reach Jesus, it was a bit clogged. And so you get the wisdom but it’s compromised. In this sense – over and above the personal material – editing was obviously called for. Personally, I think Ken did a fine job – I doubt I could have done better. When we make more of that issue – defending this or that edition, this or that teacher – then we are indulging the ego and using the history of the writing and editing to keep us from practicing the very healing ACIM offers us.

In other words, I don’t think it matters which edition of A Course in Miracles you choose. Or rather, it’s not actually possible to pick the wrong one. I still prefer the FIP edition. Yet my understanding of the course has been undeniably enhanced by reviewing the earlier versions, including the Urtext. Pick one that works for you (what works is what’s helpful) and then stick to it. Even Ken acknowledged in his defense of the FIP edition, we should never feel guilty for reading a different version.

The question is what is it for – why are you reading the course? Why are you leaning into the conflict around which edition to read? We are here to be healed of fear, and guided by the Holy Spirit – the light in our mind that was in the mind of Jesus as well – to love. Don’t shake off what helps. Let it do its work, and you do yours. Read, listen and love. What else is there?

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Circle of Atonement

This post is about the organization Circle of Atonement. This post is about the course section of the same name.

The Circle of Atonement is an organization of teachers and students devoted to the practice of A Course in Miracles. My first encounter with them was through the controversy surrounding Gary Renard and his ascended masters. My sustained impression of the group, however, is one of love and helpfulness.

I’ve said before that one of the early and helpful ACIM-related texts that I read was Gary Renard’s The Disappearance of the Universe. Finding it useful, and being curious, I googled Renard and discovered that there were all sorts of people asking questions about him. Was he a scam artist? Were Arten and Pursah just a clever marketing gimmick or genuine ascended masters? How did Jesus fit into it?

Those who want conflict will find it, of course, and find conflict I did. And, I confess that I indulged it some, too – it’s sad how much time we can spend in what really amounts to little more than gossip. But there were two things that came out of that experience that I really valued. The first was that I learned an important lesson. Or rather, I re-learned a course lesson through application. The course encourages us to always ask “what is it for?” (T-24.VII.6:1)

That question is deeply related to the admonition that we not “value what is valueless” (W-pI.133.13:4).

After I was done dredging the mud about Gary Renard’s divorce, bad jokes and background as a freelance investment and business master, I remembered to ask what his book was for. Why was I reading it? What was my goal – truth or conflict?

The answer was not especially hard to find. For me, reading Gary’s book – and all the texts I read with respect to ACIM – was to help my slowly-evolving appreciation, understanding and application of A Course in Miracles. Disappearance did that wonderfully. I haven’t worried about Gary Renard’s personal life since.

Set the goal for truth, use what is helpful, discard what is not, and trust God. It really can be that simple.

The other thing that came out of that experience – somewhat related to the first – was that I discovered the Circle of Atonement. As noted, they were early on involved in the Renard controversy. But to see that group solely in the light of Renard and that (somewhat subsided now) controversy around his work would be a mistake. COA is a helpful and substantive resource for serious students of A Course in Miracles.

I add, however, this caveat: they are not the only helpful and substantive resource. There are a lot of study groups, teachers and organizations out there. Finding one that is helpful to us can be a valuable use of our time and attention. It’s true we can become distracted by teachers – finding the right one, denigrating others, second-guessing our judgment and so forth. But on balance, the abundance of guidance available is a blessing.  Ken Wapnick, who was often conflated with the course as a sort of de facto pope, was fond of pointing out that A Course in Miracles had no pope. There is no one single custodian of love and forgiveness, just as there is no one single form of the “universal curriculum.”

I learned several helpful things reading through the material at Circle of Atonement. It was an early example of alternative approaches to the courwse – that is, approaches that could be distinguished from Ken Wapnick’s and the Foundation for Inner Peace and so forth. I am not as bothered by Ken’s role in the course community as some folks are, but it was still interesting to realize there were other ways of viewing the course material. In a sense, my openness and receptivity with respect to Tara Singh was grounded in part on this understanding that what works is what’s helpful, rather than what someone else insists in the only way something works.

I intend no disrespect to anyone here – not to public teachers or their teachers. I am grateful for the help they offer and view forgetting their apparent mistakes and aggressions and so forth as essential to my practice of forgiveness. People – including those at the Circle of Atonement are having powerful, life-changing experiences without having been involved with the course’s inception or otherwise hewing to its institutional founders. These guys – notably Robert Perry, Greg Mackie and Allen Watson – are powerfully committed to teaching the Course. Their lives are given to it. Even if I am not always on board with this or that particular aspect of their teaching (and I am not!), their authenticity and willingness to help is palpable.

It was – it remains- an effective witness to the transformative potential of A Course in Miracles.

I remain impressed by how much material Robert Perry and his students share via their website. Like the Foundation for A Course in Miracles, there are enough articles, links, interviews, classes and workshops to last a lifetime.  I became motivated to reflect on how I might do something similar with own study and practice. I am a teacher and a writer by both training and calling; linking that up with ACIM seemed natural and positive. Circle of Atonement was a tangible – and inspiring – model for how to share and how to learn by sharing.

*

By way of addendum: as I mentioned earlier, the brouhaha over Renard and his work has largely fallen away. More and more people seem to just accept the ways in which he can be helpful for some students and stand down from arguments about whether he’s telling the truth or not. Again, those who long for conflict will find it. But even when we do find it, it can – when given to the Holy Spirit – be an opportunity for forgiveness. In the end, neither Gary nor Robert Perry and the good teachers and students of Circle of Atonement should be viewed in the light of conflict. That’s not what they’re about. And really, neither are you and I.

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By way of further addena, Robert Perry has released A Course in Miracles Complete & Annotated Edition, advertised as a restoration of the original work to the maximal degree possible (their website is down; I can’t link to a noncommercial overview of the project). Perry relies on Helen’s notes and believes this version will “allow the Course’s true meaning and character to shine through a little more clearly” and thus help students to “better see the Course for what it is, relate to it as it is, and apply its profound truths to their lives.”

I haven’t read this edition; I don’t feel especially called to read it. I’ve touched on my concerns about whether Helen or Jesus wrote the course and which version of A Course in Miracles one should read.

Although over the years I have stopped following Robert Perry’s work closely (somewhat the way I no longer follow Gary Renard’s work closely), I still consider him a thoughtful and devoted student of the course. It seems odd that a book which has been around for half a century and become – in Perry’s words – a “spiritual classic” should require revision that it’s “true meaning and character” might be revealed, but what do I know?

Letting Go of Anger

Anger is one of  the more debilitating experiences one can have. It is not without its place, but when it is not understood – or when it is give more time and energy than it merits – the results can be very painful. Letting go of anger – through understanding and through conscious choice – allows us to be more peaceful and helpful people.

A few weeks after my daughter was born I woke up before dawn and went downstairs to bake bread and write. I sat there in the kitchen of our house, drinking tea, typing away on a computer. I remember very vividly the sense of peace and creativity in that moment. It was very quiet, very potent. While the bread rose, I wrote a poem entitled “My Daughter’s One Month Birthday” that was later published in the Chiron Review.

Baking bread at 4 a.m. –
sliced olives tossed in oil –
my old friend anger
watching me from the corner.

That was in many ways a sad poem for me, but it was also an important one. It acknowledged the fundamental health of the moment – baking bread, writing – but took due note of the fact that anger was there waiting. It was not the poem of a healed man, but a man being given a brief respite.

We have to see this about ourselves – we cannot pretend we are without flaws. It is only by being willing to see ourselves as broken that we can turn with any meaning to the one who can heal us.

Unfortunately, there is often a gap between seeing the problem and having it forgiven. Coping with anger is more than just figuring out where and in what way one can be angry. A more radical healing is called for.

When I was a kid, I was known for two things. My eloquence and anger. I could talk circles around anybody – well, almost anybody – but I was also highly sensitive. The slightest thing could set me off.

When I reflect on it, anger felt like a muscle that I was always flexing. It was an energy field from which I drew a lot of sustenance. I don’t know why. It seems like at some point in childhood I just suddenly had this presence with me, as if I had acquired a friend that I could not see, yet trusted completely. Anger had my back. Does that make sense? The poem I wrote makes this clear – anger is “an old friend.”

I won’t say anger is good – I won’t. Though my own anger rarely manifested in physical ways (though on a couple of occasions it did), it still hurt people. I said stupid things to people that I loved. I behaved like an idiot – walking out of important conversations, not returning phone calls. Anger is protective, of course, but at the cost of destruction. It wants to ruin what it thinks will hurt its host and it has no capacity for long-term thinking. Anger always surges into the Now but like a tempest, a bull.

Anger doesn’t want to ask questions and it doesn’t want to be questioned. It wants to create a space in which one can be safe. But it never really works because it never addresses the fear that is driving it, that is creating the apparently dangerous situation. So we end up in a perpetual cycle of fear and anger and fear and anger.

So letting go of anger matters. Anger is the barbed edge of fear. There’s no point in trying to understand it otherwise. I’ve certainly been a beneficiary of talk therapy over the years, and I wouldn’t discourage anyone from giving it a go, but there’s going to come a moment when it’s you and your fear. Anger promises to help – that’s what anger says, I’ll take care of you. I’ve got your back. It’s like the parent you never had, or wish you had.

Letting go of anger means saying no to it. Literally feeling its rush to the fore and pushing it back. No thanks. Not this time. You aren’t powerless before your anger, no matter how strong and intense and massive it might seem. You made it. Don’t ask why because why doesn’t matter. Whatever it was for back in the day, you can’t get back. What worked for you when you were five, or eight, or ten, or sixteen, won’t work now. Let it go.

There is another way.

That way has to do with facing the fear that you scarred over with anger. The fear isn’t real, either. You made that, too. You will have to let it go as well. But before you get there, you have to give up your anger. You don’t need the protection any longer. What you are cannot be hurt or injured, because it is abstract and spiritual, and eternal. It doesn’t matter if you believe that or don’t believe it. Right now – this minute – it’s all in your head. You are making it all up as you go. Letting go of anger and resentment can seem impossible but it’s easy.

It’s okay. We can see this, too. We can let this be healed, too.Habitual emotional responses don’t go away easily, though. They surface and recur. They sometimes find new channels, as if they don’t want to be forgotten or abandoned.

The relationship between the fear and the anger is not always rational – in fact, sometimes it’s irrational. Try not to judge this – but simply let it be. Assume that somewhere in your psyche or consciousness you created a link. If it seems foolish in the light, well, okay. But that doesn’t mean it’s not there. That doesn’t mean we can’t take it seriously in the interests of healing it.

Sometimes it was helpful for me to say something like, Okay. I’m not seeing the fear here that’s causing the anger. Where would someone else see it? Where – or what – could it be, if it could be anything?

Other times, I simply had to trust that – even though I couldn’t identify the fear – it was still there. Even if all I could do was acknowledge fear, it still helped to defuse the anger.

Another trick I learned  to help undo the immediate effects of anger was to focus on my breath. One of the things that happened to me when I was angry was I stopped breathing – or breathed in a very quick and shallow manner. This kind of breathing fuels the body’s sense that it needs to either fight or take flight – and that, too, keeps the anger vital and alive.

When I concentrated on breathing properly – even for just a few moments – it helped. The physical intensity of the moment decreased and I was able to think a bit more clearly. If there is something that needs to be done – a decision to be made or something, we can do it better from a place of relative calm.

So what I am saying is that we need to be willing to see fear differently. That’s it. That’s enough. Just let the fear be – you don’t have to defend yourself, don’t have to attack it, don’t have to understand it, don’t have to define it, don’t have to justify it, explain yourself to it, explain it to someone else, make art of it, hide from it, talk to it or dance or celebrate with it in any way. Just be. You and the fear.

Coping with anger is not spending a day at the beach, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done. I stand as witness to the freedom that follows the surrender – which is very much an ongoing process – of anger. We hurt ourselves – and sometimes we hurt people who are dear to us. So we have to see that damage, which is to also see the need for healing. And then we ask for help. Lots of it maybe.

I promise that if you can sit with the fear for a moment – honestly without reserve for just one moment – then your anger will subside. It will go away because you don’t need it anymore. It’s like putting the fork down when you’ve finished eating. Nothing left on the plate, no need for a tool to scoop it up.

Easy? No. Simple? Yes.