Anger & Thieves

“Damn, if only …” Jackson Billings Jr., better known as Jack Jr., stepped out of the four-story headquarters of EchoCom. He walked across the driveway, past the fountain, into the parking lot and stopped. He shook his head in anger and closed his eyes. Anger is useless, he thought, weak. He took a deep breath and reached out with three of his five senses an attempt to taste the world and calm down. He let the world wash over him, allowed it to soothe his spirit, beat back the anger that had been fomenting since the morning meeting. He listened. He smelled. He felt. Anger is useless, he thought again. It was a mantra, bringing him back into the main, reminding him of who and what he was, and how best he could cope. Anger is useless. Jack inhaled and exhaled slowly. His building was in Duluth, Georgia, several miles north of Atlanta, but still part of the Greater Metropolitan area. It was built next to the running waters of the Chattahoochee River. He searched for it with his ears, listening intently for the sounds. He concentrated on drowning out the noise of traffic laden States Bridge Road. He listened, and listened, and listened. There. He could hear it, just barely, the cool, if somewhat polluted, river flow. It had rained heavily over the past week, before the spring sun and easterly winds broke the storm clouds. The resonant sound of rushing water brought joy to his soul. He listened harder, felt more intently, the soft sound of the wind blowing through the trees, its caressing touch, added to the natural music that relaxed his spirit, brought calm to his troubled soul. He smiled, reaching upward with his awareness, and felt the sun. It was warm and inviting, touching his face with its warm rays. On a mild, manic, April Monday, Jack thanked God for the ability to tune out the world, and invite nature to come pouring in.