I wrote this story to illustrate some of the challenges that anger as a negative emotion presents us. It is a true story with a few embellishments for the reader’s enjoyment.

It is a beautifully calm evening at Trout Lake in East Van, the name locals give to this part of the city of Vancouver. The sun is setting into a mixture of yellowish, nearly orange hues with barely a ripple on the water. The dogs are delighted as they are every time their scent-sensitive noses are stimulated by rushes of curiosity at every new tree and bush. Molly could easily do 10 turns around the 1 km path and never be bored. It is a dog’s paradise. Debby and Richard love the evening stroll, one they have done regularly for the past eight years since returning from their sojourns overseas.

“What a great city we live in to have this in our backyard!” Richard says as they approach where they normally sit to take in the evening’s bouquet of colors.

But on this evening something different is about to happen. As they near the view Richard begins to feel agitated. A sudden rush of disgust erupts in his being as he walks by a young man seated near the place that he and Debby often park themselves to take in the scene.

“Did it have to happen on this night?” “Did he have to invade our space with his noxious habit?”

Richard lashes out. ” Do you know that is against the law to smoke in a park in Vancouver?”

The young man, maybe 20, but just, tries to retort, but he has no intelligible response. He stays fixed in his place, continues his smoking for a few minutes, and then sneaks away. Richard stays fixed on his high horse, pulls out his cell phone to look up the city by-laws so that he can feel justified in his lashing out as if he were the savior of Vancouver’s pure air.

THREE WEEK FORWARD IN TIME

Back at Trout, back with Molly, making a turn around Trout Lake on a beautiful Sunday evening. On this evening the smoker appears early, a 40-something male, laying on his back with his half-smoked cigarette. Richard’s self righteousness raises up again. He is ready to strike one more time, The Righteous Upholder of Vancouver Law. Then he gets a light tap on his shoulder from an unexpected source. His eldest granddaughter, Isa, joins him along with a few others on the walk.

Richard confides in Isa about his disdain for the park smokers half-expecting her to join in his crusade against the foul vapors. To his unexpected surprise Isa grabs hold of the conversation, wrestles it away from the indignant one, and boldly takes it on the road less traveled.

“So Grandpa, what is the big deal with you and smokers?” “Why does it upset you so much?”

It is as if a boxer has sucker-punched him when he expected an agreement.

“What are you feeling?” she adds.

“Oh no!” Richard thinks to himself. “Don’t go there with the F-word? FEELING!!”

But Richard succumbs having been blind-sided and a little dazed. He relates to her about his anger, a feeling she obviously doesn’t share. She remains calm, detached, and curious. It completely disarms him. Has he ventured down the rabbit hole of his own darkness? He has.

One question follows another from the intrepid g-daughter. She has him on the ropes ready to deliver the knock out punch. The punch lands in the form of another question of when the first time was that he felt this anger. The self righteous crusader falls to the mat. The match is over. He is down for the count.

Richard realizes that he is/was the smoker. He smoked nearly 50 years ago to give himself breathing space at a time when he felt he had none.

Suddenly compassion enters his being. He no longer has disgust for the smokers, only compassion, the same compassion he needed for himself. They have what he has, not enough breathing space, not enough air.

Time to find breathing room.