Actual Freedom ~ Frequently Asked Questions

Frequently Asked Questions

How to End Anger?

RESPONDENT: Richard, you have written that it took three weeks for you to rid yourself of anger.

RICHARD: You are, presumably, referring to the following text:

• [Richard]: ‘Speaking personally, the first thing I did in 1981 was to put an end to anger once and for all ... then I was freed enough to live in virtual freedom. It took me about three weeks and I have never experienced anger since then. The first step was to say ‘YES’ to being here on earth, for I located and identified that basic resentment that all people that I have spoken to have. To wit: ‘I didn’t ask to be born!’ This is why remembering a PCE is so important for success for it shows one, first hand, that freedom is already always here ... now. With the memory of that crystal-clear perfection held firmly in mind ... that basic resentment goes. Then it is a relatively easy task to eliminate anger forever. One does this by neither expressing or repressing anger when an event happens that would previously trigger an outbreak.
Anger is thus put into a bind ... and the third alternative hoves into view’.

RESPONDENT: Can you please sketch what you did in that time?

RICHARD: Sure ... as I was able to locate and identify that basic resentment which all people I had spoken to have – to wit: ‘I didn’t ask to be born!’ – the first thing I did was to unconditionally say !YES! to being here on earth. Remembering the pure consciousness experiences (PCE’s) I had experienced was vitally important for success because they showed me, first hand, that an actual freedom from the human condition is already always just here ... right now. With the memory of that crystal-clear perfection held firmly in mind that basic resentment went, of course, never to return again. Then it was a relatively easy task to eliminate anger forever. I did this by neither expressing or repressing anger whenever an event happened that would previously trigger an outbreak.
Anger was thus put into a bind ... and the third alternative would hove into view.

RESPONDENT: Were you analysing, reflecting on all possible situations in which anger arises?

RICHARD: No ... it was an at-the-moment riddance.

RESPONDENT: Or were you angry at something and tried to observe it deeply?

RICHARD: No ... the instant the anger would have otherwise arisen there was the delicious experience of it being stillborn.

RESPONDENT: Were you making yourself mad by thinking about various situations and through self-observation and reasoning and attentiveness eradicated it?

RICHARD: No ... as there were more than enough situations anyway there was no need to fabricate any.

RESPONDENT: Were you isolated at this point or did this exercise with your partner?

RICHARD: Even though I was married at the time – I was a normal family man, with a wife and four children to support and a house-mortgage to pay off and a car on hire-purchase, running my own business and working twelve-fourteen hour days six-seven days a week – I was essentially on my own in the whole enterprise ... my then wife, although initially intrigued and interested for herself in what I was engaged in, lapsed back into normalcy within a few months.

As a matter of related interest ... one of the most persistent forms of anger is indignation (or righteous anger/justifiable anger): it can be eradicated rather simply by the realisation that its raison d’ętre – a guardian against injustice, unjustness, unfairness, inequality (partiality, discrimination, and so on) – is as much a human invention as those concepts it defends ... justice, justness, fairness, equality (impartiality, indiscrimination, and so on).

I have touched upon this elsewhere:

• [Richard]: ‘There is no ‘chaos’ and ‘order’ as a ‘sub-stratum of the universe’ ... they are but human inventions and do not exist in actuality. The same applies to fairness/unfairness, justice/injustice and any other human concepts that, whilst being useful for human-to-human interaction, are futility in action when applied to the universe. Male logic is as useless as female intuition when it comes to being free: the everyday reality of the ‘real-world’ is a veneer ‘I’ paste over the top of the pristine actual world by ‘my’ very being ... and ‘being’ is the savage/tender instinctual passions (giving rise to feelings of malice/love and sorrow/compassion etc., with the resultant concepts of bad/good and evil/god and so on) which cripples intelligence by invariably producing dualistic concepts.
‘Tis all a fantasy ... feelings rule in the human world’.

*

RESPONDENT: Richard, have you encountered a situation where people want to test your ‘harmlessness’ by poking, trying to be mean etc. in real lives?

RICHARD: Aye, on many an occasion ... both in face-face situations and on this mailing list (where it happens more often due to lack of physical restraint).

By the very nature of the human condition human beings, through no fault of their own, are self-centred and some are more so than others – some to the point of feeling, and thus thinking, that the world revolves around them – and it never occurs to those, who do just that, that they are simply wasting both their time and a vital opportunity by manifesting the same-same behaviour (and using the same-same techniques) as the many who have done so before them have done ... being so self-centred as to be fondly imagining that their own fundamental sphincter-muscle, which they are wearing around their neck, is a dainty little necklet they are unable to realise that they, and therefore their behaviour and techniques, are in no way unique.

In short: trying to get me riled is as futile as shaking a fist at the firmament, and fulminating against the universe, is ... it has no effect whatsoever.

Furthermore, those who do it frequently on this discussion list are, by mistaking freedom from moderation as a licence for anarchy, openly demonstrating to all and sundry (other than to themselves, though, or they would cease forthwith) why the very rules, regulations, protocols, etiquettes, and so on, they are rebelling against in general have been needed, are needed, and will remain needed.

‘Tis a weird way to try to convince those, in a position of governance, to cease governing as the only effect is to emphasise why the need is there in the first place, eh?

Oh, well ... c’est la vie, I guess.

Richard (speaking in the third person on the 13th of January, 2013):
In the late-afternoon of an otherwise typical summer’s day, in 1981, a six-foot-two man was standing in the kitchen of his ex-farmhouse being soundly berated, as was also typical, by his four-foot-eleven wife; he was in a bind, a double-bind, in fact, and of his own making insofar as he had formed the intent, a few weeks earlier (on the 1st of January), to live life as it had been in their all-too-brief honeymoon period a little over fourteen years previously; his intent to do so was formed as a way of having it segue into the pristine purity of the four-hour perfection experience, indelibly imprinted in his memory, which he had experienced in all its marvellous wonder in the mid-winter of the previous year; his wife, having impetuously agreed that day to travel in concert with him, had already succumbed to the same-old same-old and was out to have him crack, too, so that their life together could revert to normal (having put all that pie-in-the-sky romantic nonsense back where it belonged in the wishful-thinking department).

Richard (speaking in the third person on the 13th of January, 2013):
In the late-afternoon of an otherwise typical summer’s day, in 1981, a six-foot-two man was standing in the kitchen of his ex-farmhouse being soundly berated, as was also typical, by his four-foot-eleven wife; he was in a bind, a double-bind, in fact, and of his own making insofar as he had formed the intent, a few weeks earlier (on the 1st of January), to live life as it had been in their all-too-brief honeymoon period a little over fourteen years previously; his intent to do so was formed as a way of having it segue into the pristine purity of the four-hour perfection experience, indelibly imprinted in his memory, which he had experienced in all its marvellous wonder in the mid-winter of the previous year; his wife, having impetuously agreed that day to travel in concert with him, had already succumbed to the same-old same-old and was out to have him crack, too, so that their life together could revert to normal (having put all that pie-in-the-sky romantic nonsense back where it belonged in the wishful-thinking department).

As he stood there, with the slowly-setting sun streaming yellow through the wide-open French doors leading out onto the brick-paved patio, he was quite aware that a similar scene had taken place only the day before, plus how he had managed to keep his act together only by the exigency of abruptly vacating the scene, until the barely suppressed anger she had invoked in him had subsided enough to return; he was acutely aware, also, that she had his number and, as far as she was concerned, it was only a matter of time before he too succumbed to the same-old same-old; and as he stood there he was uncomfortably aware that the same anger of yesterday was rising, slowly but inexorably, from the solar plexus up toward the rib-cage diaphragm.

There was no way he was going to suppress it—he’d had a lifetime of the failure of the ‘stiff upper lip’ approach—and he was damn’d if he was going to express it, either (for then this four-foot-eleven female would have triumphed over this six-foot-two male yet again); the vision of having to vacate the scene once more—and again and again off into a sombrely-looming future—was not at all an attractive option, yet, if all else failed, he supposed he could always make the unseemly dash to the door.

Thus he stood there still, despite feeling the anger rising ever upward, through the rib-cage diaphragm, and now suffusing the thoracic region with its all-too-familiar temptation.

And he could see her eyes begin to gleam, even through the wrathful glare which had transfixed him all the while, and he just knew she was zeroing in for the kill; his own anger was mounting, ever-simmering and seething it was brimming at the region of the lower throat by now; her face was flushed with purple, with nostrils quite distended, and spittle flecked her livid lips as her shrilling rose to fever pitch; he had left it too late to beat a hasty retreat and his throat muscles quivered as the brimming anger shimmered and shifted into a pre-shout mode born of old and ... and, wonder of wonders, that oh-so-familiar throat-muscle quivering skipped a beat or two and began to ease!

With a rapidly-mounting amazement and delight, he marvelled at the fact that he had, in some way, neither suppressed nor succumbed and that he had finally freed himself of domination by this four-foot-whatever fleshly package of seething anger and hatred that had usurped the mother of his and her children.

And as the slowly-setting sun streams golden from the west another world entirely hoves into view.

Pristine and pure, ever-fresh and new, peerless perfection permeates all and sundry, without exception, and he knows with a certainty that his life is never going to be the same ever again.

Ain’t life grand! (Richard's Personal Web-page, “Peeved” Tool-tip). 

 

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