I wrote about Boudicca last week. I find her unspeakably inspiring. Not just because of her rebellion. Not just because of her cause, and not just because she was Gaelic. It's because of her violence. Because when she burnt London to the ground, she ripped apart its people in ways we shrink from now, she did things to them that the Romans never even thought to do to her, and she still raged.
To evoke such rage... is very difficult. Especially in a woman. I don't mean to make a generalization here. It's just that women have that hollowness inside, that resonance, that makes them different when it comes to wrath. Slow, sudden, implacable. I'll rhapsodize more on my thoughts about women as hollow beings at another time. But it's that about Boudicca that inspires me.
I lost the knack for rage a long time ago. I'm capable of irritation now. Frustration, annoyance, aggravation, childish fits, even. But real rage, the kind that blinds you and chokes you, fills you with adrenaline and then drops you like a snipped marionette when it's through--that I haven't felt in years. I squashed it out of myself when I lived in a place where anger was nothing but another reason to get punished. And now... now it's something I miss.
Because anger is worthwhile. Anger is useful. Anger is a driving force and can be productive when it's not destructive. Sadness, now... that's more slippery. It's harder to shake and harder to express. It depresses the system, makes one lethargic and doleful. And it doesn't make one very rational.
I want to apologize for my carelessness, for my harshness, for my childishness. I find myself apologizing these days for things I would never have even considered sins in years past. Does that mean I'm becoming a better person?
I think so.
Hold this little shell for me; don't break it. I'm unearthing something here. It'll just be a minute. Then we'll go sit on the blanket and see what we've found.
Labels: Apologies, Introspection
posted by Rivaine # 10:19 PM 
