Weaving Anger, Palm Sunday, and April Fools’ Day
April 1, 2012
I took refuge in a comfortable, quiet neighborhood restaurant after a busy and inspiring day of being at an all-day workshop with hundreds of other dedicated writers. I stretched out my legs as I sipped my cup of dark house blend coffee. I appreciated the uncluttered walls and the leisurely feel of the energy that surrounded me. I was happy to be alone after a day of workshops, book signings, and conversations. My body surrendered to the softness of the cushioned chair. I took another savoring sip of coffee and reviewed my week, hoping to lasso a theme for my blog.
Suddenly, my eyes darted to a couple sitting next to a large window. The energy coming from the man and woman who appeared to be in their late twenties felt intense and compelling. The music from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons played in the background, and I tapped my fingers and feet to the escalating rhythms. The music drowned out their conversation. I felt like I was watching or perhaps even participating in a silent movie. No longer revisiting The Maine Festival of the Book in my mind or figuring out what to write about in my weekly blog, I stared at the couple.
The young woman leaned forward, slammed her coffee cup on the table, wrapped her arms around her chest, and shook her head vigorously from side to side. Her lips moved but I could not make out her words. The man sitting across from her pointed his right index finger close to her face, then pulled his hand back, and lunged for her arm. Motion and emotion collided as I watched the energy erupt between them.
Then the woman abruptly motioned to the exit sign, grabbed her coffee cup and winter coat, and stumbled from the table. The man ran after her, only a few seconds of space separated them.
I looked around me. People sipped coffee, conversed, read the Sunday paper, or concentrated on their computers. I was surprised that I seemed to be the only one aware of the angry encounter that despite a change of scenes continued in the parking lot. Looking out of the large picture window, I realized that I was holding my breath. I was afraid that someone was about to be hurt in this angry collision. Still no sound as the action outside continued.
Watching the interaction between the two warriors reminded me of times I had reacted in anger, usually directed toward a partner who I thought had betrayed me or some value I held sacred. I remembered how I, too, expressed my outrage because I needed my feelings to be acknowledged or to be right. Usually my anger created walls, more distance than intimacy, and often counterattack rather than reconciliation and tenderness.
I shook my head and smiled as I remembered my seven-year-old grandson, Noah, remarking, “Oh, you foolish mortals,” when he watched the long lines of people waiting to buy tickets for the biggest US lottery in history.
Returning my attention to the escalating drama outside the cafe, I watched the woman throw up her hands, hurl the coffee cup against the pavement, and make an ‘It’s over, or I’m done’ gesture in the air. Then she spat at him — her gesture carrying more meaning than words. Without looking back, she opened her car door, slammed it shut, and careened out of the parking lot. I doubt if she saw him sticking his middle finger up at her before he ran to his car which was parked in the next row, and raced out of the lot after her.
Their story did not end here. I finished my breakfast, satisfied that I now had a beginning idea for my blog and headed for church. As I drove, I reflected on the couple, aware that this was both Palm Sunday as well as April Fools’ Day, and somehow that seemed relevant. Before I figured out the connection, I noticed flashing blue lights on top of a police car on the opposite side of the road. I recognized the two cars even before I spotted the two silent warriors. Another character had entered the silent movie. The police officer stood between them writing on a pad. I don’t know if he was issuing a ticket, preparing to arrest one or both of them, or writing out the preliminaries for a restraining order.
As I drove past slowly, I imagined the angry couple’s relationship permanently damaged. Even though I had heard not one word spoken from either person, energy can scream. Yet other times, it can overflow with love, compassion, and forgiveness.
We do react like April fools when we forget that love is forgiving, or when we over-ride the Palm Sunday message to love and serve one another in favor of being right. Both frozen anger and out of control anger diminish our ability to love ourselves and each other. I know the truth of that statement in every cell of my being. As I looked though my rear view mirror and realized the silent movie had ended for me, I committed myself to live in love.
