I used to be afraid of my rage. My fear kept the anger locked in my body. I was afraid if my inner ferment came out, I would explode all over just like a nuclear bomb. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, so I just hurt myself instead. I stuffed it down which made me sick, depressed, and suicidal. It took me years to love my rage.
1. Rage makes me feel alive
Rage triggers adrenaline. The rush of adrenaline wakes me up, keeps me on guard, heightens all of my senses. Hyper-aware, listening for the crack of a branch or the crunch of a leaf, I’m aware of what’s behind my back.
A feeling of being alive, 100% present here on earth, fully engaged. Ready to attack.
I’m one of the first female white-water river guides. In the beginning, I was put down for being a skinny chick in an all-male world. This was 1976.
I was terrified at the top of life-threatening rapids. The rush of adrenalin triggered my body to be on full alert, plus gave me the strength to maneuver my boat and passengers through humongous life-eating rapids.
Over time, my profound love of the river took hold. I learned the secrets of the river. I became really good, even better than most of the muscular guys. The rage turned into transcendence. Sometimes the river, boat, oars, and I became one. One movement, one consciousness, one with the river. Everyone became aware of my altered state. People in my boat, as well as those watching from other boats, experienced the transcendence of stopping time in the middle of a roaring rapid.
2. Unleashing rage promotes growth, health, and freedom
My mother’s favorite saying was, “Just don’t think about it!”
Just don’t think about my Dad creating bombs that annihilate hundreds of thousands of people.
Just don’t think about Hanford, the world’s first plutonium plant built under the guidance of my father. The half-life of weapons-grade plutonium-239 is 24,000 years. Think about that for a moment.
Rage, anger, and fear swirl through my nervous system. Bombs explode out the top of my head. Energetic radioactive hot lava flows out my vagina searing my legs all the way into the earth. I’m fucking pissed off.
For decades, it felt like rusted barbwire yanked through my head and brain all the time. Shockwaves continuously zapped the base of my neck that ran all the way down my spine. The energy in my bones felt like it was on fire.
For about forty years I woke up in the night screaming in terror. Deep, black, dark fucking terror.
The rage fueled my transformation. As the energy surged through my body, I thanked the horrors, the pain, and the terror. With each round of giving thanks, the rage shifted into pure, powerful energy to use for my inner transformation. Over time, the radioactive plutonium, nightmares, shockwaves, and fright all morphed into greater love, joy, and aliveness.
3. Rage is orgasmic
One evening after a healing session, energy started to build inside my body. At first, it was extremely uncomfortable. I wanted the intensity to move out of my body, so I wiggled around and the energy catapulted up my spine.
Bombs started exploding in my cells and my genitals became boiling hot. The energy continued to move up my spine and shot out the top of my head. What amazing relief. The further the energy projected into the black void, the more exquisite I felt. The plutonium-ridden orgasmic energy blazed out the top of my head, erupting into a huge mushroom cloud.
As the bombs in my cells exploded, I experienced the ultimate male orgasm, erupting out the top of my head reaching high into the ethers. What a staggering amount of energy. The absolute rush of war surged through my body as the bombs ruptured. Such ecstasy.
The erotic rush of watching a bomb explode is profound but never spoken of. Watching the beauty of the mushroom cloud emerging, billowing, as it expands is awe-inspiring and orgasmic.
As a child, I witnessed my father’s increased sensuality and pleasure when he spoke about bombs. Now, I understand how men get off on war. This is orgasmic, way off on the end of the spectrum, completely excluding and devoid of the feminine. Destructive, without the balance of love, nurturing, and compassion of the divine feminine. Patriarchy at it’s finest hour, claiming power, dominance, annihilating everything that diverges from the prescribed linear path.
I am reminded of the movie Patton where George C. Scott stops by the side of the road and proclaims with fervent emotion, “I love war! God help me I do love it so. I love it more than my life.”
4. Rage has power
I was the first woman in Billings, Montana with a Ph.D. to open a private psychotherapy practice. The other male therapists got together and had their head dude take me to lunch. He took me to a little diner with white Formica tables and red Naugahyde chairs with a menu of hamburgers and grilled cheese sandwiches. I’d just arrived from Aspen, Colorado where business lunches were quite extravagant.
I was told I would be blackballed from the Montana Psychological Association. This was 1985 and women weren’t welcome in the good old boy’s association. I was also informed that I would be run out of town.
On the outside, I was quiet, polite, and subservient. Inside I said, “Fuck this.”
I placed one add in the paper announcing my work. I was determined to have a booming practice. Women flocked to my office. Miraculous healings took place. Lives changed in profound ways. News of my work spread. Exactly one year after opening my business, I bought my dream house with magical gardens on a dazzling river.
I didn’t succumb to what my male peers told me, I chose my dreams instead. The energy behind my rage shifted into action, serving others, and propelled me to fulfill my dreams.
5. Rage and evolution
I have been filled with rage about being second-rate. Feeling inferior was wired in my nervous system and programmed in my neural patterns. The patriarchal view that women are inferior permeates everything, it’s hidden deep in the collective unconscious.
Patriarchy is based on outside authority where the man is in charge. The man is superior to women for no other reason than his penis and his brute strength. Strength-based in fear. Patriarchy taught me to look outside myself. This is blasphemy. The deepest violation ever.
I’ve been unwinding the energetic wires that directly used my life force to fuel the old paradigm. I’m disconnecting all the parts that have been made wrong, squished out, stomped on. The parts that have been dragged through the gutter for eons.
It’s time to put down the energy of fear, the energy of survival, the fighting my way through life. It’s time to pick up and embody my innocence.
I’m evolving by consciously changing my neural programs, nerve bundles, and energetic wiring. Using rage as the catalyst and energy to burst through the old patterns and create a new reality. By shifting the neural patterns in my body, I connect to the divine brilliance of who I really am.
As I re-wire my body I enjoy the luscious pleasure of following my bliss, rather than the fear-driven adrenaline rush of rage.
6. Critical Mass
For my Dad, critical mass was a crucial factor in creating bombs. In nuclear physics, critical mass is the smallest mass of material that will start a chain reaction in a nuclear bomb or reactor.
On the Internet, critical mass is when a post or video goes viral.
In terms of consciousness, when enough people bring their unconscious thoughts to consciousness, a global shift will occur. The old paradigm based on fear and rage will be replaced with a new paradigm based on love, joy, and inner fulfillment. This is huge.
By changing my neural programs and patterns from rage to love, I’m assisting in reaching critical mass. I’ve decided to join with others who are here to bring about the birth of a new paradigm.
7. Love transforms rage
My fear kept the rage locked in my body. As I love my rage and thank it’s tremendous power new energy arises. A new aliveness, not based on a fear invoked adrenaline rush but based on extreme joy coming from deep within.
I allow the rage to run energetically free. Flowing out of my body, not aimed at anyone else, but pure energy, surging from my body, dripping out my cells, flowing into the earth, matching all the red that I wear. If I bottle it up I get sick, depressed, or lethargic.
Rage, how can I serve you with love? How can I love you more deeply? What do you want and need? How can I love you to death?
I’ve learned to love my rage to death and use the powerful energy for good.