Charting the Jungle of the Interior

SAN FRANCISCO--O Wandering Naturalist, whither dost thou roam? Lately, not very far. Im restricted to a tiny prison island and anywhere public transportation can take me in the City and its environs. That hasn't deterred me from confronting the wilds within.

Everywhere I go, I take my psyche along. Would do well to chart that territory, the true homeland, and define its dangers. What unexploded land mines/minds will I find there? More than a few, for this genteel lady traveler never gets angry. Errm, make that "rarely visibly angry" and "rarely consciously angry." The fires are often buried, coals still smouldering. How to excavate and illuminate?

I've tried the pillow-whapping thing; for me, it reinforces acting out. I wish neither to suppress nor express anger. Don the headlamps, explorers! Let us try my new method: experiencing and examining anger.

First step is admitting it: I'm pissed off, irritated, annoyed, frustrated, whatever. Second, I welcome it, invite the feeling in for tea, greet my demon at the door, rock the screaming baby, attend to it. Then I experience it--the physical sensation, the heat and energy, the ebb and flow.

This, I believe, leads to transformation. Are you ready to follow me into the cave to find out? You're not?! Well, that really pisses me off.