I have an inner Badger.
Who snarls when I get behind a slowski.
Who rages when the computer glitches.
Who froths at the mouth when I’m confused or frustrated.
Who bites when I have to repeat the same thing that I already told you 50 times.
Hardly anyone else (except the Nugget) sees this bad actor.
She hides under the garden of soft words and behaviors that most people believe is me, so when people tell me I’m so calm and good, I know the truth.
I’ve tried to fence her out, but she digs underneath and launches herself at some random offense with a great snarling power that takes my breath away.
She doesn’t want to be seen or tamed.
But here in the quiet of calm curiosity, I sneak down into her burrow.
I see her loneliness.
She had been misunderstood.
She has been my guardian, protecting my vulnerability.
When I sit and feel her, I can feel her power.
In spacious allowing I see that there’s a place for her in the natural order.
I tell her I will open my throat and give her more space to breathe.
I can’t make her go away, but in allowing her space, the guilt and shame that have whipped her raw will hopefully dissolve into compassion and gratitude.