rage

During his thirteenth year, I would catch Lev in the bathroom, glaring at himself in the mirror, learning to perfect his glare. He really wanted to be all powerful. At age fourteen he spent time learning to raise his eyebrows independently, and got quite good.

I found this writing about his rage, and I miss his rage, his silliness, his love and caring. I miss it all, the boy of extremes.

It is titled Rage, September 2006, from his sixth grade writing journal.

Rage
I believe that rage is the most powerful inner source in the world. By inner source I mean strength that you draw from the soul, not the body. I have worked over the years to learn to harness my rage until I burst it loose.
I believe that someone with enough rage can fight even with an arrow in the gut or a sword in the stomach. I believe that a beginner is only a rage apprentice while someone who has studied for years, like me, is a rage lord.
I can scare my fourteen year old brother with the rage of a rage lord.
I believe everything I just wrote.

(I wonder what his teacher thought of this entry. The next page of the journal has a grade, and he got full points for his amount, use, thought, and presentation, 100%. Later in the year she did give him an award for having a unique sense of humor, which I think was after he had gotten in big trouble for comparing her to a whale, without bad intentions.)

Reading through his writings is good, and feels right, but it is quite difficult. He is sorely missed. I wonder where his creative energies, rage and compassion would have led him in life. I am sorry for him and the world for our loss. He has left a hole, a grief hole, not a rage hole in me. Maybe I can harness the energy and become a grief lord. :-)

Rebecca