A calm veneer cloaks the rage within. Why the rage exists is a mystery. Like uncontrolled shorts within an electrical machine, the rage is such that it renders thinking impossible. An agitation without cause, an irritation without remedy. You need to know the cause to apply the appropriate remedy….
I feel the rage. I sit quiescently. How can action be taken upon a condition that seems to have no cause?
Perhaps this inner turmoil has many catalysts or causes. As it is composed of many issues or problems or whatever, perhaps it isn’t possible to discern them separately, and together they have no form. How can something without form be discerned?!
To handle even the individual conflicts, problems, issues, or whatever, you must at least be able to see them separate from the formless nightmare they present. I sit, paralyzed, unable to react to the mass of irritation, agitation, of rage, I feel.
Rage? Against what? How can rage exist separate from the cause? Yet, there it is. Like a massive electrical emission from some Tesla device.
Is this what drives the elderly mad? Is this what causes the senility so many exhibit? Unexplained rage? A mental clenching of fists and teeth?
At a time when my mind should be calm that I suffer this inner storm, I find most disappointing. I am thankful that at least the storm does abate from time to time. Its recurrence, though, seems more and more frequent. How much longer will I be able to still my mind in order to put the record down, I do not know. It helps, at least, to write it down.