Healing Begins the Moment You Choose Presence
Emotions are energy in motion. Presence is what transforms them.
“There is nothing more confining than the prison we don’t know we are in.”
William Shakespeare, The Tempest
One of the most surprising lessons I have learned recently did not come from a psychology book or a meditation teacher. It came from a 90’s Japanese animated film filled with boar gods, forest spirits, and impossible beauty. And it changed the way I see anger.
Growing up as a 90’s kid, so much of my joy came from Pokémon, Zelda, Power Rangers, Mario, Game Boy, and Tamagotchi. I still remember the moment I realized how many of those worlds came from Japanese pop culture. Later on I kept hearing people rave about Japanese animated films, especially Spirited Away. People described it not just as a great animated movie, but one of the greatest films ever made.
There was a phase in my life where I felt like cartoons and anime weren’t “cool” anymore. Lately I have been learning to embrace the geekier part of myself that was so alive when I was young. So I finally decided to give one of these films a chance. I started with Princess Mononoke from Studio Ghibli, the same studio behind Spirited Away.
It is a fascinating film. Beautiful. Strange. And at first, a little hard to digest. There is no single source of evil. No Sauron. No Voldemort pulling strings from the shadows. Instead there are multiple groups, each with their own motivations, colliding over a set of scarce resources. It feels uncomfortably familiar.
The protagonist, Ashitaka, is also unusual. He accepts the classic call to adventure, but he doesn’t choose a side. His purpose is not victory. His purpose is balance. Throughout the story he keeps trying to hold together what everyone else is tearing apart.
That alone is refreshing. But the part that hit me hardest is how the film treats anger.
The story begins with a boar god poisoned by hatred. Its body is covered in writhing worms. After Ashitaka kills it, the corruption infects his arm. He heads west to find a cure, but quickly realizes something important. The curse reacts to anger. His arm surges and lashes out whenever he gives in to rage. Even when he is tempted, he recognizes that anger only feeds what is killing him.
And suddenly this strange animated film becomes deeply human.
Someone snaps at you and your jaw tightens.
Someone cuts you off in traffic and you bark out a curse before you even think.
Your boss criticizes your work and your stomach flips.
Anger can hijack a whole conversation or a whole day. One moment spirals into hours of replaying should haves and could haves. You carry it into the evening and sometimes into the next morning.
Princess Mononoke shows the opposite too.
Presence disarms conflict.
Presence opens space.
Presence steadies the breath.
Presence makes new outcomes possible.
Ashitaka becomes a bridge:
Between humans and animals.
Between nature and industry.
Between anger and clarity.
Between destruction and healing.
And there is one quiet detail that feels painfully true. Even when things resolve, the curse is not fully lifted.
Healing does not erase wounds.
Clarity does not rewrite the past.
It simply stops the pain from being passed forward.
Presence lets the chain end with you.
Honestly, part of me wishes I had a throbbing arm curse like Ashitaka. At least then I’d get a clear notification when I was slipping into anger or fear. Instead, my warnings are subtle and easy to ignore. Tight shoulders. Short breath. Snapping thoughts. Looking back, there were many moments when anger or fear quietly shaped my decisions without me realizing it. This is exactly what Shakespeare meant when he wrote that there is nothing more confining than the prison we don’t know we are in. Most of us don’t see the bars until after the fact.
I don’t believe most people are out to hurt or destroy. Most of us are overwhelmed or scared or holding on tightly to whatever kept us safe before. Anger is often old pattern recognition. A past danger showing up in the present moment.
Clarity does not mean we never feel that spike of emotion. It means we do not escalate it. It means we choose a different pace and a different response.
It is the skill of learning to hold contradictions.
It is staying grounded when things feel uncomfortable.
It is not reacting from old emotional reflexes.
It is being the shore the wave crashes against and fades.
I have gone through my share of hard things. I am learning how to respond differently. How to choose values instead of reactivity. How to make space instead of heat.
I am far from perfect. But this space is where I will share what I am learning about healing, responsibility, compassion, presence, and integration.
Anger spreads.
Clarity spreads.
We get to decide which one we carry forward.
If this spoke to you, I would love to hear your reflections in the comments. And if you think a friend might find something useful in it, sharing goes a long way. Word of mouth is how meaningful ideas travel, and I am grateful for every person who helps them reach where they need to go.
Until next time,
Jack