Suzanne Lewis, Editor
THE ANGRY WOUND
The most dangerous being alive is one who chooses to be consciously unconscious, apathetic. Right now seems to be the point of the “angry wound” exposure in our culture. As a pioneering, wholistic healer and educator, my understanding of this term angry wound is anyplace in the body/mind that has an unresolved injury, trauma, violation, distress and has been covered up, scarred over; before thorough cleansing and tending. Repeatedly life conditions trigger the injury and it begins to boil up, get hot and angry.
I have met no one perfect, absent of old woundings. The most dangerous being alive is one, who with overcultures blessings, stuffed away this vulnerability, in their unconscious. Compensating by being over critical, dominating anything or being that crosses their paths.
All my life as a woman, as a single mother, as a healer, as a daughter, I have been bullied, strong armed by the masculine. Whether I name it my father, the religious, the government or health care. To receive respect and safe domain has always been challenged. So my angry wound that has surfaced looks like this.
I am a dog person. I have always had these wonderful four-leggeds as part of my family. Currently I have the best one ever, a very loyal scotty terrior called Latte girl. I credit her for saving my life five years ago and me saving hers. She’s my medicine dog and even though she’s a little dog, she has a mighty presence.
In May as we walked our trail next to the foothills on the Castlerock Native American Reserve, two large German Shepards ran freely towards us. I reached down to protect my little dog, tearing my still mending right forearm and shoulder. The Germans poking trying to roll my scotty. I was yelling stop. The owner of the dog, a buff young man, talking on his cellular system ear phones on, made no attempt to call his dogs off.
In fact, he commented: Listen lady if my dogs were going to kill your dog, it’d be dead right now. I am shooting bullets through my eyes at him but unable to say anything. He walks away with his dogs reluctantly following, all the while making smart remarks at me.
It took me two months to mend, repair the tearing in my arm.
Latte and I continue to walk our path daily, but we are very watchful. Last week a bouncing Golden Retriever zig zagged across the trail and up the hillside and back to the trail jumping up on me with its full body weight. My son has me in really good walking shoes so thankfully I didn’t fall.
Earlier this week, once again on our walk as the sun peaked over the foothills, we could hear talking somewhere out of sight. Taking a cautious stance, we waited to see who was out there. Once again two very large German Shepherds bounded our way. Latte winds the leash around my ankles, positioning herself between my legs. I have my mending arm memory so I push my palms towards their faces shouting stop.
The dogs’ owner looks out, still talking on his cellular phone, pushing a baby in a cart. He yells at his dogs.
Sarcastically, he says Geez Lady you don’t have to have a heart attack. I cross his pathway walking onto the Reserve saying nothing, breathing, breathing. He yells at me as he removed an ear plug in, “Did you say something?”
Calmly I said, “Have you ever had a precious little dog get attacked by two huge dogs. I had ever right to be scared.”
He interrupted, alright I hear you.”
So my angry wound is torn open, it’s bleeding, it’s gained its voice. I love dogs. I hate the pack dog (the good ol’ boy standard) mentality. When two or more dogs run in a pack, their animal instinctual behavior dominate. Herding dogs, it’s their job to stalk, strike and roll the little animals. Going along with unhealthy behaviors or decisions that will harm others in order to dominate, be the king of the mountain, fairest queen of the kingdom; reign supreme over all others; well let’s just say I have had it. NO MORE!