Chapter 1: The Landscape of Salt and Emotion

Nestled in a unique ecosystem, my surroundings resemble a canvas of burnt butter stretching from rugged mountains to the vivid blue sea. The area is dotted with expansive, shallow ponds, or etangs, where flamingos blush like smudges of red and tiny crabs traverse the slippery seaweed.

Upon closer inspection, these larger etangs, complete with their islands and fishing nets, give rise to smaller versions. Nature, in its wild form, tends to be chaotic rather than neatly organized. It requires human ingenuity to impose structure on the natural world, creating walkways and barriers. An age-old system of waterwheels and sluices captures ocean water, inundating the low-lying beaches whenever the moon beckons.

The salt ponds hold the water; sunlight performs the rest of the magic.

In regions distant from the coast, salt becomes a rare commodity. In the arid Rocky Mountains, for instance, sheep lick the salt from the roads, oblivious to the curious tourists passing by.

Historically, before the rise of urbanization and agriculture, we sourced salt from the blood and flesh of animals. This vital nutrient played a crucial role in the development of our brains. Sodium channels, akin to canals, crisscross through our cells, enabling coordination and the emergence of self-awareness from our brain's inert matter.

The Romans, though unaware of the biochemical intricacies, recognized the necessity of salt for survival. They relied on it to preserve food long before refrigeration came into play. Contrary to popular belief, Roman soldiers weren't compensated in salt—though the myth persists because it resonates. Salt, while ubiquitous, is essential for life.

What sustains us can also lead to our demise.

This principle applies universally. Consuming excessive water can lead to disorientation, and inhaling pure oxygen can be fatal. Salt, like any other substance, can be toxic in large quantities.

We cling to existence through various means, striving to stay alive in a universe intent on extinguishing us. Life thrives on life, and our presence means countless other beings cannot exist.

Those unable to endure suffering often perish prematurely. Pain serves as a guide, steering us away from danger, while pleasure directs us toward fulfillment. Yet, addiction lurks in this complex interplay of feelings. Drug users pursue the euphoric sensations that evolution intended as rewards for survival—like the satisfaction of a hearty meal or the thrill of procreation. We've manipulated our evolutionary mechanisms.

It seemed harmless at the time.

However, this journey is a double-edged sword. Substances mimic emotional states, and emotions can be as addictive as drugs. Among these, anger stands out, easily understood and often prevalent. It serves as a defense mechanism against threats, a survival instinct in a predatory world.

But the predators have vanished. The evolutionary advantages may have faded, yet the reward systems persist. We frequently seek out places that echo our struggles and desires.

It can feel invigorating to experience anger.

Yet, anything that brings temporary relief can also be perilous.

The limbic system wields significant influence. Its role is to bypass rational thought, preventing hesitation or fear about our actions. Anger activates the same reward centers in our brains as potent narcotics, flooding us with dopamine and rewiring our cravings. This cycle forms the core of addiction—a pleasurable experience morphs into a necessity, overshadowing our reality.

Anger is a natural human emotion, easily justified. Who wouldn't feel enraged in today’s world? With billionaires constructing escape vessels from a deteriorating planet, politicians waving tattered banners soaked in blood, and individuals consumed by silent rage committing unspeakable acts, it's easy to understand.

Yet, every era has its trials; perhaps they were even worse. The world has always seemed on the brink of collapse, and malevolence eternally looms.

Feeling anger about such circumstances is akin to being upset over the sun shining.

Here, the Mediterranean's shores provided the Romans with ample salt, still evident today as brine shrimp tint the etangs a vivid pink.

While the salt trade may have diminished, its importance endures. We still require this mineral—a pinch of grit that enhances flavor and stimulates connections in our minds, facilitating thought flow. It is an indispensable part of our identity, shaping us in ways we cannot fully comprehend.

Ultimately, it can lead to demise, but in the interim, it enriches our experiences.

Chapter 2: The Addictive Nature of Emotions

In today's society, we are all considered addicts.

This notion is emphasized by various programs. One can become addicted to exercise, meditation, or work—using these activities similarly to how an alcoholic uses alcohol to stave off the darkness within.

Anger, too, can become an addiction. It manifests in compulsively checking the news or immersing oneself in global suffering while neglecting personal challenges. It can act as a corrosive barrier, shielding us from confronting our fears while creating an illusion of engagement.

Yet, passion alone does not equate to action. This truth is universally recognized. The relentless algorithms of our digital age perpetuate a cycle of outrage, delivering a ceaseless flow of stimuli that amplifies our anger. Each click feeds the addictive cycle, leaving us craving more.

Consider this the next time you feel anger rising.

Better yet, reflect on it before that moment arrives, before your limbic system seizes control and injects you with that toxic concoction of fury and salt. What purpose does your anger fulfill? Are you using it to mask deeper emotions you'd prefer to avoid?

The true peril lies not in the world’s inherent dangers, but in our responses. Anger becomes increasingly accessible with each encounter, the door to it swinging wider with frequent use.

Today, it isn’t religion that serves as the opiate of the masses. It’s not narcissism, television, or social media.

It is anger. We are all ensnared.

Isn't it time to break free from this cycle?

© Ryan Frawley 2023

All proceeds from this article will be donated to Doctors Without Borders/Medecins Sans Frontiers.