The Art of Becoming Unstuck

Do Angry Things

All Life doesn’t happen easily. Maybe it seems sensible not to complicate it even further. Lead a simple life, you might think. It’s best.

But simplicity does not arrive like a birthday. Often, we cut ourselves off from complications. We might try to keep things simple by not saying disruptive things. We may only let the world know little versions of ourselves.

This piece is about the disruptive energy that we all possess. When we let it out in the right way it allows us to be bigger in the world. We feel less anxious. We stand the best chance of getting the life we need in order to be happy. If we trap it life becomes one long bum rap. A kind of a death. We drown in resentment and horrible complications. That energy is called anger.


Distance

Angry energy creates distance. If you are being messed with you need to feel you can show you don’t like it. You can say or do something and connect the angry feeling in you to the world outside you. This is angry energy going the right way: out of you, putting some distance between you and what you don’t want.

But if you feel angry and can’t connect that feeling in you to the world it will leave you feeling alone. You will avoid situations where something might happen that you don’t like. Your energy will go nowhere. You end up squashed in with it, silently enveloped by rage.


In a Rage

If your anger isn’t going anywhere you go a strange kind of still. You freeze in a rage.

How can you not get stuck like that? Budge. You need to keep moving. One of the things that can keep you moving is music. There are books, paintings and films, but music’s a good way to get going. Something tight, something in time.

What you don’t want is something spaced out. Something that’s gone so far it’s broken off. You want music to go just far enough to still be rude, shocking, brilliant in the way it opens the world up. Bach, Banshees, Last Poets.


Budgie Cage

You don’t want to be tranquilised by stupid music, silly novels or memes. Anger going nowhere does enough of that already. You yawn. You feel very sleepy. You feel bored because boredom is like a budgerigar cloth, the thing you hang over a cage. A budgie stops singing in a cage just like an angry person wiped out by their own irritation. So don’t stay still. That kind of still is like the dead calm before a storm. We talk about something being dead boring. Find some music, or anything that moves you. Something outside you that brings you to life. Don’t let your anger make you dead. Harness your anger like a rocket from the crypt.


Say Something

When you disagree, or when you feel hurt, or when you feel frustrated (which can be like a fraying rope that ties something in place) you need to know you can say something. If you can’t, you are mute.

You might decide to say nothing. But if you have no choice about being heard you will feel defeated, maybe hopeless. Life will feel really unsafe.


Disagreement is Our Edges

Friendship needs some disagreement, if you and your friends don’t want to end up being one big blob.

Disagreement is our edges, and our height, and our depth. Up there, over here, down there — that’s not you. It can helpfully interrupt love, like someone you love might interrupt you if you were eating like a pig. Disagreement reminds love to stop eating or it will just get fat to the point of an explosion.


A Big Scene

What’s it all about? What does it all mean? These questions are a waste of time. They make you think, and think, and think.

You need to be inside, not thinking about. What’s in it all? What’s happening? With these questions something can happen apart from frustration. Look, I could say something about what’s in it all? right away. The plant on the table in front of me, whose flowers look different every day.

What’s it all about? What does it all mean? You might put up with these two like party bores, and you know where that ends.


Problem Numero Uno

All the worst examples of anger are to do with men. Men who don’t get what they want — maybe they are ugly, stupid or boring, for instance. Rather than make the best of a bad job, to wise up or stop talking rubbish, these men think the people they are scaring, stupefying, or boring need to shape up.

This is what happens. The world’s a place where men can do that. Do you know many women who do that? I don’t think so. Where can the energy come from to change this? This is problem numero uno because there’s something about Rome in all of it: Caesar, Catholics, etc.


A Lot of Pretending

If you fear putting your toe in the water, sometimes in your mind’s eye you might pretend to freeze, get eaten by a crocodile, drown and so on. A lot of the time a lot of pretending goes on.

Pretending is when something gets put off. Something’s still happening when you put things off. Angry energy is a step forward into the water which is for real.


A Little Scene

You might miss what you want from him, but you won’t miss him. That’s a disagreement.


Laugh

If life feels unsafe it feels unjust. Cancel culture is because people feel unsafe. The kind of people you’d want to cancel, don’t bother. Laugh at them instead. Try it. Point at someone awful and laugh. It’s better than cancelling them. Comedy is the most amusing form of anger. Kafka laughed so loud when he read out The Trial that he had to stop. Thomas Bernhard exterminates stupidity with the force of his wit.

Avoid satire and sarcasm which are like vomiting into the wind.


Life is Written

Anger allows justice. Justice allows respect. Without respect nothing is safe. Without anger there will only be injustice.

Everything has to be contested, always and for ever. You might believe that there is a magic law written into to life saying: this is right. No, justice is something that you fight for. All that is written into life is what you write into it. You must be able to make a case for what you believe, or nobody will believe anything at all. They will simply insist that something is right. Or wrong, and try to cancel it. Or cancel you.


Hope

A lovely person who listens won’t tell you what to do. They will give you a weapon for the future: something to believe in. There may be justice in the future if you have friends who you can trust, and that keeps your angry energy out in the world, like a ship on high seas.


A Great Bomb

To stop resentment killing you, you need kind, thoughtful people who will not forget what has happened to you and who agree deeply, all the way through, that it is wrong. They say they will not forget. When you know people like this it feels good. They catch your angry energy, holding it in the world, and help make it a great loving bomb.

It becomes the wrong kind of bomb, liable to explode in your face, when you talk about it with a bitter fanatic who tells you what to do. They throw your energy back at you. Catch: here’s some hate.


Close Enough

Things change in a moment. I hope you’re not the kind of person who says change takes a long time. If you are, go back to the beginning and you might see what’s changed. Saying change takes a long time is pretending it hasn’t happened. It’s trying to put it off, which as I’ve said is not a way to stop something happening.

So where can you find the energy to make a difficult change? To change the world? That’s what this piece wants to know. It’s all about desire, which is a lot about love, and a lot about anger. Love brings things together. Anger says: that’s close enough.


Hospitality

Something I am used to experiencing as I begin to work with a person is a a shift from something that feels regimented, stiff, or tight; somehow restrictive. There are many ways I could describe what this might suggest is happening. The whole process of getting to know someone is a kind of loosening or dissolving of certain constraints and a fastening, a securing of other kinds of feeling: inhibitions give way to closeness.

It used to be, maybe thirty years ago, when I travelled a lot for my work, that certain hotels or guest houses would have a way of letting you feel close to where you were staying in ways that were unforgettable. They’d allow something that might gift you a memory you’d always want to return to, or even that you could return to. I’m more conscious now of ‘experiences’ these kinds of place try to sell me or offer me that do the opposite. I arrive feeling at a distance and leave feeling even further away. I don’t want to think about them ever again.

One place where I often stay in London still does the kind of thing I long to find: to surprise me with touches I don’t expect. The rooms have books that are interesting; a couple of biscuits. A new cushion. Flowers. Something like the kind of thing you might put in one of your own bedrooms when a friend comes to stay.

I’d say, however, that the art of hospitality is becoming lost. If I go to book a room and see a packet of chocolates listed as part of what I’ll find when I arrive I stop the booking. I don’t want those kinds of decoration. Surprise me. Don’t give me a package. Just the equivalent of a smile. Something that never appears until it is there.

Attachment & Groups

As my work has developed I’ve found it more important than ever to think about the demands groups make on us, and how these create conflicts with what we see as our individual needs. From the moment someone thinks ‘I want a child’, whoever that ‘child’ becomes is subject to demands that may in the first place be spoken or announced without any ambiguity, but not in ways that the child can remember. Who are the groups that first contain that child? A family, usually, in the way we the UK tend to think of things; a nation, perhaps a race, maybe a faith? So many kinds of group and so many demands. Thought this way what happens between a child and a parent might be very significant, but isn’t the biggest effect from those groups? The ones that call on us for their survival. For a large group, for example, a very anxious person might be a very valuable asset. Someone who’s always looking out for trouble. But perhaps not for maybe another group: a family.

100 per cent

Some people find their best selves at work, others at home, some out with their friends and others in situations like telephone calls, washing dishes or whatever.

Living 100% is a rather mutilated concept.

People have hacked it to bits over the years saying all kinds of contradictory things: ‘live life to the full’ but also ‘you can’t do 100% all of the time’; ‘carpe diem’ but ‘learn acceptance’. That kind of stuff. I hope that when they work with me my clients find out how to be as much themselves as possible. I take the view that the person in front of me is special, whether they like it or not, and this always proves to be the case once they have got their self-doubt, other people’s envy, the effects of trauma and stupidly limiting expectations out of the way. Special is not the same as superior, better, or more privileged. In my book special means different from normal. Life is about recognising differences and seeing that normal is nothing to be scared of: there’s a normal bit of everyone – one that has a lot in common with a lot of others, and understanding what this is has to happen in order to reveal someone’s specialness. The bit of them that is especially them.

Remember context. A lawyer may need to do a lot of things at 100% but if they approach mowing their lawn with that attitude they’ll explode, need an addiction, or some other sorry state of affairs will develop. This is all about doing 100% in a 100% way: realising when you can’t make any difference, or when your 100% input might actually mess things up, and instead you have to do some 10% or something, that’s important. A Dad playing cricket at 100% with a six-year-old child is not going to work. That Dad needs to be stopped. But if that Dad applies 100% of his attention to that child in order to work out what that child likes, needs and wants to do, then we are rolling.