What Makes Us Angry?

My friend is invariably offended by those who salt their language with profanity.  I’m hoping he’ll get so wigged out by it that his heart explodes and he drops dead.  Don’t worry, I’m not being cruel, I know what will happen next.  It happened to me.

He’s going to wake up sitting at the kitchen table in a most cozy home.  Seated across from him is a rather unusual personage, not quite man or woman but the seamless synthesis of both.  He or she is nobody my friend recognizes, per se, but, almost unbelievably, seems comprised of all the people who have loved my friend unconditionally in this lifetime.  Including people my friend never met.  I mean, jeez, Nelson Mandela is one. 

The irony is that this is precisely how my friend has always conceived of God.  And apparently God, being infinitely pliant, shows up in whatever form we have defined for ourselves.

Anyway, God reaches across the table and taps my friend’s hand and says, “Sweetheart, what in the name of Jeepers Creepers were you thinking? 

“Why would you ever allow the behavior of another person to disturb your peace of mind?  The only reason you are offended is how tightly you hold your belief about how you think things ought to be.  You’re the cause of your unhappiness, not the guy who uses language at odds with your small self sensibilities.  

“Now, I want you to get back in your body and get on with your life––and get over this insanity of thinking other people are responsible for how you feel about anything.”

The whole event takes about two seconds.

What makes us angry?  We may think there are any number of things, but lucky for us there’s only one: how we define our world.