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  • Rai Cantisano

on rage, intimacy and creativity

i used to be completely foreign to my rage. it was a thing that happened to me, visited me in the most inappropriate times and blew up whatever (and whomever) was in front of me. i used to hide it, shame it, hate it, uninvite it.

because it was an unwelcome guest, my rage used to be like ill timed nausea, showing up when no toilet was in sight, and it got on people closest to me... oftentimes those i loved most.

this led to more shame, more shoving it down, more nausea... you get the endless loop.

but eventually...

i decided to get responsible for my rage. not as a confession of guilt, for not being enlightened enough not to feel it, but as a vigilant parent, who is there to serve and protect its existence. i wondered about rage being as important a part of my life as any other feeling, as any other facet of me. i investigated what would be possible if i embraced it, rather than banish it, in my relationships, my music, my day to day life.

i started holding my rage as sacred and vital to my existence. i brought it to bed with me and to important conversations and my creative process... i let it lead the way, and share its message with me and teach me my wounds and my power. i wrote "glitch"from that place.

and i found that i feel whole when i bring her in. my music feels vulnerable and important when i do. in order to feel intimate in a relationship, i need to be seen in it. to coach my clients honestly, i get to own that it is sometimes there. and when i do, this fire that used to want to burn everything down ignites the spark that leads the path forward. every time i rage, i have an opportunity to learn something about myself and to create: art, my future, how my relationships look, new boundaries, connenction.

it might be why this is an appropriate post to kick off this blog. my rage is a birth giver. when i am disconnected from it, wanting to pretend it doesn't exist, i am numbed. when i embrace it, i am alive, well, and often accompanied by someone who's willing to hold my hair as i let it out.



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