Letting Go of Outrage

On Sunday morning I photographed this line of graffiti, painted along a long, low brick wall: If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention. Along with the directive: LOOK

I could feel the anger and frustration behind the words, the desire to pierce the bubble of those who are comfortable and complacent. It’s a sentence, written at the scale of whole-arm movement behind a can of spray paint, with the power to hook me.

I don’t want to be guilty of not paying attention. Attention matters. And attending to what matters is a moral duty. Closing ourselves off from the world is not what we’re here for. Yet neither are we here to live in a state of outrage. It exhausts us, while serving no good purpose.

How can we pay attention, yet not live in a continual state of outrage?

It helps to notice that eliciting outrage is often a form of manipulation. Those who want our outrage want to control our attention and our energy.  

One form of this manipulation is through taking action that provokes outrage. This is a way of both directing and thwarting our attention, like a magician gesturing grandly with one hand while performing a sleight-of-hand with the other. To understand what’s really going on, it’s important to look at more than what is being overtly presented.

Another kind of manipulation is using outrage to gather a following and fuel a movement. This kind of manipulation is more subtle. It uses righteous indignation, which can seem like the high moral ground. This is tricky territory, because the flare of anger can indeed bring with it energy for important action. Anger brings with it information about a line that has been crossed, and the energy to respond—hopefully with clarity and respect for life. Anger in itself, when it moves through and moves on, is not a problem.

Remaining in a state of outrage, however, steeps us in a toxic brew. It limits how we see the world; it impedes the growth of creative solutions to problems. Overtaken by outrage, we lose the ability to discern when our efforts are no longer effective. Living from a place of outrage turns the world into a battlefront that gives life to no one. It cuts us off from the source of life, and from one another, as we rely only on our own rapidly depleting resources. We become brittle, like the dying branch of a tree.

When we can pay attention and respond from a place not rooted in anger, but in the fertile soil of wisdom, then we have something to offer that actually makes the world better. When we can set aside our own reactivity, and allow our actions to be led by what is highest and best within us, we have a chance to bring healing to ourselves and others. We can only do this if we can consciously choose where to place our attention.

Where there is life there is hope. The brittle branch may yet show a green bud in the spring. Our rough bark can still hold the life force that unfurls a new leaf.

What new life might we be a conduit for?

Susan Christerson Brown

Attending to What Matters

A strong thunderstorm blew through the neighborhood a few days ago. It felled a massive maple tree that had offered shade on my regular walking route for years. But I’m just a newcomer. That maple had been part of the landscape for generations.

The huge tree seemed solid and enduring. The strength and stability amassed during all its years of growth appeared unassailable. But the power of the storm revealed otherwise. Its heartwood was rotten, and the appearance of strength belied the tree’s ill health.

The house beneath the tree was spared, fortunately, because of the direction of the wind. When the trunk splintered several feet above ground, it fell toward the street. Had it toppled in the other direction it would have crashed through the roof.

Now that the broken remains of the trunk are exposed to the light, it’s easy to see that the tree should have been removed years ago. But it would have been difficult to muster the will to remove such a magnificent presence. The branches offered welcome shade in the summer and glorious foliage in the fall. There must have been signs that the tree was unhealthy, though I certainly didn’t notice. It’s easy to let such things go for another week, another season, another year. Surely it will be ok a little longer. Until it isn’t.

Was it unimaginable that such a tree would violently break? Certainly not, though apparently the owner of the property didn’t see this coming. Or didn’t want to.

One of our most powerful resources is our attention. Where we direct our attention influences how we use our energy. “Where attention goes, energy flows.” What we pay attention to, and what we ignore, shapes our lives. We can choose what we will attend to, or allow our attention to be directed by longtime habits of thought, emotion, and behavior, along with the urgencies of daily life.

Internally, the things we habitually focus on (and ignore) compel us to keep repeating the same old patterns. Externally, all kinds of voices clamor for a foothold in our minds. Our wiser self knows what we need to pay attention to, but it takes real effort to hold on to that awareness. We need some kind of daily practice to stay connected to what our best self knows.  

When we’re not paying attention to our lives, we miss what’s really going on. We overlook the new growth asking to be cultivated, and ignore the danger of familiar but rotten practices whose time is finished.  

In order to be present to our lives we must be present to ourselves. There is no clarity about what’s happening in our interactions with others or in the events of our days unless we’re also aware of what’s going on within. Attending to our inner self allows us to see more clearly and respond more effectively to what’s happening in the world. It makes us less susceptible to manipulation, and frees us from the patterns that confine us.

Life is all about change. It’s easy to miss those changes unless we can be fully present, receptive to what’s really going on. Bringing our attention to what’s happening in this moment, rather than getting caught in our familiar thoughts and emotions, allows us to see what’s in front of us more clearly.

Maybe there’s something we need to do differently. Maybe there are aspects of how we live that were once solid but now need to be removed. Showing up fully, with the courage to pay attention, is an act of love. It’s when we’re truly present that we can perceive accurately, respond appropriately, and do what needs to be done.

Susan Christerson Brown