Saintliness is well explained by the character of Sirdi Sai Baba.
I read about him while I was pursuing my postgraduation back in 2014-15 when I was in my final year.
Thinking of him itself saves a million days of fortitude in any soul’s lifetime and beyond. His energy was such that his anger could burn a piece of paper kept a meter away.
It is a saintly wrath. A wrath that opens the eyes to find out that there is stagnancy, no growth unless people abide. Unless someone allows it. When whim is just based on adjusting to everything around. When one has been tuning herself for growth, the wrath appears in the background of peace and love.
If the reason was uncertainty, people act.
If the reason was cooperation and opportunities that are meager, one changes trajectory.
But the reason here is more than that. It is to always submit in the end and hope for no life ahead. Embracing the captivity by hearing all remarks and looking at the faces of my parents, who seem perturbed, and I am helpless in erasing the agony from everyone’s life, unless I don’t exist and forgive the wrongs done to me in the form of, well, that I also don’t know, but I do have everything to survive.
These are signs of depression when wrath is to break free from the captivity of your mind. Though I enjoy winters, this time I am depressed. I think it is good for my personal development. I am fighting but soaring very high, working to my satisfaction, including completing all chores myself with no time to even sit down and have some tea.
What is wasting my time are conversations with myself. They derail me, which is my wrath. Every other person seems like an enemy, and I want to burn them alive with my gaze. And then in a few minutes, I fall in love with the same person. This is no mental disorder. It is a sign of coming back to life from oblivion.
The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction. – William Blake
Wrath is not good if it makes you submit to the aggressor by reacting adversely. But if you feel that your wrath needs a vent, don’t control it; let it out by not harming anyone. Just talk to God. Or better yet, to a confidante. Maybe to a close friend.
In my case I have the walls that listen. I can write it down also. It is out of helplessness. My oblivion from the world has been very long. All I ever had is my family and workplace. Things do not fit anymore.
I am not filthy. I was understanding, but I do not want to understand the wrong perspective. Though I vent it out to the walls, everything seems transparent.
I don’t want peace. I crave science and education, realizing that already a lot of my time got wasted over things that were not my concern at all.
Yet, there is wisdom in my wrath. It brings with it the self-control of an adult and the agitation of a child that seeks comfort in achievements. During previous years I did not even feel that I was uncomfortable.
There is a spark now in my wrath. It isn’t, according to others. It is mine, this life, and not what others are planning for me.
There are some teasing feelings; let them be. I am grounded. I am angry. I acknowledge it. This probably is wisdom.
I want to shout out today loudly, “How dare they, when I do not belong to them?”
Can anyone become a slave of circumstances? I thought I never would. I shall get science and education, and here I am thinking how much of a burden I can be on others if I don’t just live my own life, venting out my troubles only in sugar-coated sentences so that other people do not mind and understand my intentions.
The problem is I cannot do anything. I feel angry at the thought of peace and love. I have started hating my sanctity. My origin. My ethnicity, which I was very proud of. I keep congratulating and encouraging and understanding, and people have become warmer, kinder, and more receptive.
Usually I feel grateful for all these good things, but a sudden change in me is that I irrationally flare up at other people’s good intentions.
This wrath is raw and unplanned.
I kind of like it, but I should get my blood pressure checked tomorrow.
Funnily, I could have become hypertensive. My head is aching. I don’t want to sleep; I feel like abusing people with my wrath with no patience at all.
Nothing can be done. Only self-control and tomorrow’s routine can heal me.
I’ll wait another day to calm myself.
All eye openers are mind-boggling and difficult to gulp all at one time. For example, I refuted someone today who got an award in 1992. It should not be like that. I should enjoy people and not hate them. I don’t know what to do. People love me, and I don’t show up to them. I don’t want them.
It is a non-communicable disease. I think it is hypertension. I feel a lot of pressure in my head. I do not want to prove anything at all. It seems I am throwing allegations on myself for taking a bath and going to the loo while questioning the limp in my gait. That’s hilarious.
This place created an angry woman out of me. Despite all the niceness. Maybe these are niceness camouflaging vested interests and dangerous callousness, but I cannot clean people’s minds, and I cannot lose my self-respect and continue with patience. This is the foundation of my wrath: that I am losing patience. Yet there is another day to come. It is painful. Yet wise.
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