Daniel: Alright, pop quiz, Sophia. What’s the most spiritually enlightened thing to do with your anger? A) Let it go, B) Turn the other cheek, or C) Love it? Sophia: Oh, that’s easy. It’s got to be A) Let it go. That’s the whole point of mindfulness, right? Detach, find your zen, don't let it control you. B is a classic, but a bit too passive for my taste. C sounds... frankly, a little unhinged. Loving your anger? That’s like hugging a porcupine. Daniel: Well, if you picked A or B, you’re in for a surprise. Today, we’re talking about why C might be the only real answer. Sophia: Wait, really? Hug the porcupine? I’m intrigued and slightly concerned. Daniel: And that radical idea is the heart of Love and Rage: The Path of Liberation through Anger by Lama Rod Owens. Sophia: Ah, this book has been getting so much attention, and for good reason. The author isn't your typical Buddhist teacher. Lama Rod Owens is a Black, queer, Southern-born Lama, formally trained in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition. That intersection of identities is so rare and brings a perspective that’s desperately needed. Daniel: Exactly. And it's a perspective that has clearly resonated—the book was a Los Angeles Times Bestseller. It’s not just theory; it’s forged from his lived experience, which is why we have to start with his take on anger. He argues that almost everything we've been taught about it, especially in spiritual circles, is wrong. Sophia: Okay, so what is the right way to understand it? Because 'loving' my rage still sounds... dangerous. It feels like giving a free pass to destructive behavior.

Daniel: That’s the exact misconception he wants to dismantle. Owens says that anger isn't the real problem. It’s a secondary emotion. It’s like a smoke alarm. The alarm is loud and annoying, but the problem isn't the alarm—it's the fire. For him, anger is the alarm, and the fire is our deeper hurt, our woundedness, our heartbreak. Sophia: I can see that. When I get angry, it's usually because I feel disrespected or hurt first. The anger is the reaction to the initial pain. But what do you do with that? Most advice is to just turn off the alarm. Daniel: Right. And Owens says that’s a disaster, especially for marginalized people. He tells this incredibly vulnerable story about his own life. As a young activist, he was full of righteous anger. He was fighting racism, homophobia, all of it. But in the activist and spiritual communities he was in, people kept telling him, "You're too angry. You need to work on your anger." Sophia: Oh, I can just imagine. It's the classic tone policing. "I'll listen to your point about systemic injustice, but could you say it a little more nicely?" Daniel: Precisely. So he tried to suppress it. He buried it. And what happened? He fell into a severe, clinical depression. He realized the depression was just his anger, with nowhere to go, turned inward on himself. It was a profound moment for him. He quotes, "To sink beneath the anger... was to recognize the anger for what it was: an indicator that my heart was broken." Sophia: Wow. So the anger wasn't the poison; it was the antidote he wasn't allowing himself to take. The anger was trying to tell him his heart was broken, and by silencing it, he was just letting the heartbreak fester. Daniel: Exactly. The anger was trying to protect his woundedness. And when he finally started to listen to it, to love it by giving it space and accepting it, he began to heal. He wasn't a slave to it anymore. He could have agency over it. Sophia: Okay, that makes sense on a personal level. But what about when anger is directed at you? The book talks about the #MeToo movement and the story of his own spiritual teacher, his guru, who was found to have had affairs with students. How does 'loving anger' apply when you're the one being harmed? You can't just tell a victim to love the abuser's anger. Daniel: This is where it gets incredibly nuanced and powerful. He doesn't say to love the abuser's anger. He had to learn to hold his own rage at the situation. He tells the story of finding out about his teacher's misconduct, a man he deeply loved and respected. He was devastated. He felt rage, confusion, betrayal. The community wanted to keep it quiet. Sophia: Of course they did. Protect the institution. Daniel: But Owens realized that his love for his teacher and his rage at the harm his teacher caused could coexist. He didn't have to pick one. He could love the man who had changed his life for the better, while also being enraged by the harm he'd done and holding him accountable. He uses this Buddhist concept from the Heart Sutra: "Form is emptiness, emptiness is form." Sophia: What does that mean in this context? Daniel: It means things can be two opposites at once. His teacher could be both a source of profound wisdom and a source of deep harm. A person can be both a loving guide and a flawed, damaging human being. Accepting that complexity, that contradiction, is a form of love. It’s not about condoning the bad behavior. It’s about accepting the full, messy reality of it. That’s the only way to move forward without being destroyed by either blind loyalty or pure rage. Sophia: That is a much more difficult, but much more honest, path. It’s not about forgiveness in a cheap sense. It’s about seeing the whole picture, however painful it is. And I guess you can't even begin to do that if you're disconnected from your own feelings. Daniel: You can't. And that ability to hold contradictory feelings—love and rage—is impossible without what Owens calls 'embodiment.' He argues that the real violence of oppression is that it makes us forget we even have bodies.

Sophia: That’s a huge claim. 'Forgetting we have bodies'? What does he mean by that? It sounds very abstract. Daniel: He makes it incredibly concrete. He talks about trauma, not just personal trauma, but what he calls "transhistorical trauma"—the trauma passed down through generations. For Black Americans, this is rooted in the Middle Passage and slavery. It’s a trauma of having your body treated as property, of having no agency. That fear, that distrust of the world, gets stored in the body. Sophia: And then it gets triggered in the present day. Daniel: Constantly. He tells this story that is just chilling. It was the summer before he went to college. He went into a gas station in his hometown to buy a drink. He’s just a kid, browsing the aisles. He notices the white cashier seems nervous, makes a phone call. He doesn't think much of it. Sophia: Oh no, I can see where this is going. Daniel: He goes to pay, and as he’s getting his change, he sees two white police officers blocking the exit. They pull him outside and start questioning him, accusing him of being suspicious. He’s terrified, confused. He said he barely remembered the drive home, he just locked himself in his room, feeling this deep, gnawing paranoia. Sophia: Wow. That's intense. It’s like that feeling when you get a stressful email and your shoulders tense up before you even process the words. The body knows first. His body went into survival mode long before his mind could catch up. Daniel: Exactly. That is disembodiment. It's when your body is experiencing sensations of threat and trauma that are disconnected from the immediate, logical present. His body was reacting to a history of violence that the cashier and the cops were perpetuating. He says, "My oppression and the subsequent trauma are rooted in this fundamental distrust" of his own body and its right to simply exist in a space. Sophia: So how do you 're-embody'? What does that actually look like? It can't just be about thinking your way out of it. Daniel: It's not. It's about practices that bring you back into the body. He mentions a Buddhist practice called Bhumisparsha, which literally means "earth-touching." It's a gesture of grounding, of connecting your body to the earth to feel its stability. But he also gives a cultural example that I found fascinating. Sophia: What’s that? Daniel: He talks about the tradition of "shouting" in Black churches. You know, when the spirit moves someone and they get up and dance or shout. He says he slowly began to see this as an informal, ritualized release of trauma. It’s the body, through movement and sound, physically shaking off the pain and tension that it’s been holding. It’s an unconscious form of embodiment. Sophia: That’s a beautiful way to reframe it. It’s not just religious ecstasy; it’s a communal healing practice. So if anger is a compass pointing to the wound, and embodiment is the map that helps you locate that wound in your own physical self, what's the actual journey? It sounds like the book redefines the whole idea of spiritual practice.

Daniel: It absolutely does. He builds on this iconic quote from the writer and activist Audre Lorde, who said: "Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare." Sophia: I love that quote. It completely flips the script on self-care. Daniel: Owens takes that and runs with it. He says in a culture that is systematically trying to annihilate you, just surviving is a victory. Resting is an act of resistance. He argues that we need to develop "rituals of resistance, resilience, and sustainability." This isn't about bubble baths and face masks, unless that's part of your ritual. It's about creating methodical practices to counteract the methodical violence of the world. Sophia: I love that. It reframes things like setting boundaries not as being selfish, but as a necessary act of survival. It’s permission to protect your energy. What are some of these rituals he talks about? Daniel: They are so beautifully simple and profound. One is the power of "No." He quotes Emma Goldman, saying, "'No' is a complete sentence." For people conditioned to please, to be nice, to not make waves, simply saying "no" and protecting your space is a radical act. Sophia: That’s huge. Another one? Daniel: Crying. He says we need to see crying as a release, a cleansing, a reset. It’s a way of letting the heartbreak move through you instead of getting stuck inside. And another is creating what he calls "beloved community"—spaces where you can be your full, messy self and be held with kindness, not judgment. Sophia: It sounds like the core of his version of spiritual practice is about radical honesty with yourself and finding people who can handle that honesty. Daniel: Yes, and it's about mourning. He has a "Basic Mourning Practice" in the book. It’s not about wallowing in sadness. It’s about actively acknowledging your heartbreak, whatever it is—a personal loss, the state of the world, a disappointment—and just offering it space. You don't have to fix it. You don't have to analyze it. You just let it be there. Sophia: That feels so counter to our culture of toxic positivity, where you're supposed to find the silver lining in everything immediately. What's one simple ritual from the book that listeners could try today? Daniel: I think that mourning practice is a great start. Or even just the practice of rest. Not sleep, but actual rest. He describes it as finding moments, even just for a minute on the bus or between meetings, to just let go. To stop holding everything so tightly and just be. It’s a small act of defiance against the pressure to always be productive, always be "on."

Daniel: Ultimately, Love and Rage argues that liberation isn't about transcending our messy human emotions. It's about diving straight into them. The path isn't around the pain; it's through it. The rage, the heartbreak, the trauma—these aren't signs you're broken. They're signs you're awake in a broken world. Sophia: And that being awake requires work. It's not passive. It’s an active, ongoing practice of paying attention. Maybe the takeaway is to just notice, next time you feel that flash of anger, to pause for a second and ask one of Owens' key questions: "What is my anger trying to protect?" Daniel: That's a powerful question. It shifts the focus from "How do I get rid of this feeling?" to "What is this feeling trying to teach me?" It’s a move from judgment to curiosity. And that changes everything. Sophia: It really does. It’s a practice of kindness to yourself, first and foremost. Daniel: We'd love to hear what comes up for you. Find us on our socials and share your thoughts on this. What does your anger protect? Sophia: This is Aibrary, signing off.