The heat brings upon unexpected battles, and the worst state of mind for a battle is a consciousness that denies the inevitability of war. Life is a struggle through adversaries. Progeny is a byproduct of destruction. Anyone who says otherwise has never acknowledged the underlying cruelty of a squirrel preventing the birth of a thousand oak trees when it oh-so-cutely nibbles acorns. 

Today, it was 103°F in San Antonio. A recorded heat index was 117°, somewhere at the airport. This is the kind of heat that makes mock of breezeways and diminishes HVAC systems into rattling tin cans.

Our home AC hasn’t turned off for several hours. The AC in the car is broken, and the dealership can’t offer us a loaner car until June 12.

Meanwhile, my dog is waging a hunger strike against dry kibble.

The learning curves of my new job are growing steeper as egotistical personalities make it harder for me to gain traction.

My last landlord is unlawfully hanging onto our security deposit.

I picked a hell of a week to abstain from alcohol.

I’m usually cool, but I’m boiling over. I can feel it. I know what it is. It’s not annoyance or frustration. It’s not grief. The pilots are lit, waiting for gas.

It’s anger.

Hello, old frenemy.

Ever see what happens to ice when it meets lava? The lava bubbles as the ice instantly becomes steam, and the bubbles are glasslike, and that which is akin to glass is predisposed to shattering. And the cracks are forming.

With this kind of heat, anger, war—we are not strengthening; we are yielding fragility. That anger can slide across the surface of the coolest ice, carried by a layer of steam. That anger can bore a hole through the ice and find a path through old fissures. Is this anger a passing flow, or does it represent something hidden underneath?

It’s time to throw my gym shoes and weightlifting gloves on. The steam needs a vent, and it will seep through my pours cause otherwise, I’ve got no other plan than coming back to my breath and not taking the burns so personally. A good workout will force me to breathe more. Some controlled failure will humble me more. I can’t channel this anger if I wallow in my snowmelt.

I’ve got to win this war. Let’s go toe-to-toe. Come at me, anger, and I’ll swallow you whole.