Lately I’ve been feeling kind of crazy mad.  I’m mad at my roommate, at my parents, at everyone in a five foot radius of me at my job. I’m semi-annoyed at this friend  (how come you never write on MY facebook wall?) I’m irritated at my wardrobe.  I’m mad at the fact that today I wore black pants and a fitted burgundy shirt only to realize when I got to work I was dressed exactly like Patrick Stewart in Star Trek.  Truthfully, if I’ve met you in the last four days there’s a good chance I’m mad at you (not you, Christine, you’re great, lunch was a pleasure).  Of course I’m mostly mad at myself for feeling so mad.  I’ve been meditating a full hour a day because I’ve been so mad and it seems only to intensify my madness.  I’m mad at the slippy icy streets, I’m mad at my landlords for screaming in Italian.  I’m mad at garbage, my ipod nano and Brooklyn.  In general.

Some of it could be these last dribs of icy winter squeezing the stoic endurance of a scarf and coat that now permanently smell like french-fries out of me.  But it’s also something else.  It’s not circumstantial, I’ve had some great news in the past couple of days, I’m in a wonderful relationship and on and off paper TF’s life is on the up and up.  Also let me clarify that it’s not direct anger, and perhaps it isn’t even anger after all, it’s more a feeling of intense irritation – a feeling that my skin is a couple layers too thin – an itchy feeling, like an overdressed kid strapped in a stroller, like the tugging sting of a bug bite that no fingernail “X” can subdue.   And every time I feel like this, I get a little mad at Buddhism, for all its abhidharmic wisdom, to not have papyrus sheets addressing how I feel.  Because I, as much as I’m experiencing an inward controversy saying so, I know what this feeling is.  In fact, the more mindful I become, the more I’m aware of it.
It’s hormones.
Yes it is.  I’m one moody bitch because the inner mechanics of my very predictable lady body have decided to once again, obey the mandates of a lunar cycle. 
Listen, I’m no Cathy.  I don’t like chocolates, romantic comedies (although if you do that’s fine) or lambasting the male species in general.  I’m woman enough to like the six hour BBC Pride and Prejudice and to not find misogynist comedians funny, but since middle school I’ve had a knee-jerk averse reaction when I hear a woman complaining about cycles, cramps, moodiness, PMS, etc.  Definitely I believe in mood management, regardless of fluctuating emotions, and, madness aside, I haven’t really taken anything out on anyone. (Well, except for my roommate, because sharing space draws out irritation like Barbara Walters draws out romantic details.)  It isn’t that I’m acting on my body’s weirdness, it’s more that I’m watching it.  And from a Buddhist standpoint, it’s kind of mystifying.
A google search of Buddhism and hormones (which I’ve been doing periodically for a couple of years now) turns up nothing awesome.  Recent writings of women in Buddhism are generally justifications of why women are exactly the same Buddhists as men.  It’s tricky, of course, with the whole “low born” deal.  But I really think there’s some specificity of female-ness missing from otherwise incredibly specific and comprehensive teachings.  Of course I’m not overly experienced – I only know that a Buddhist talk on sex tends to be so male-oriented that I get nothing out of it.  I’m always reticent to mention specifically female issues because of the fear of getting categorized as a make-a-division-where-there-is-no-division whiner.  But there’s something about the predictable via calendar shifts that happen in my body that very much affect the way I deal emotionally and make me think specific instruction could be useful.  Also maybe men cycle through moods as well (?)
Of course emotion fluctuation is addressed by the teachings of the Buddha.  Like any form of suffering (we know, from the third reminder, that Samsara is an ocean of suffering) it’s a matter of being mindful, of watching, of not adding any object or narrative to the experience.  But when I’m meditating more frequently, like I am these days, with hormonal shifts I can really notice a specific physical rise of bodily agitation and an increased proclivity towards anger and aggression.  Honestly, if I wasn’t meditating I think I would believe the “objects” of my irritation were its actual causes.  With mindfulness, however, it seems in these times that emotional states arise independently.  The irritation feels as though it comes from chemical reactions, and, like a bad headache can mar clear-thinking, the effects on my personality sometimes don’t seem so Buddhist.
What to do, what to do?  When these feelings start to rise, I envy Tenzin Palmo’s cave.  I feel like I need a time out.  Additionally, in the spirit of co-emergence, these times when I am extra sensitive also feel like an excellent opportunity to develop wisdom, if I could get it together enough to plan an amp-clay on the imuli-stay.  Sometimes, however, that’s simply not possible in the layperson’s life.  I have people who need me, tasks that require finishing, a belly that needs to be filled semi-regularly and a bedroom that’s not getting any cleaner.
Last week Hardcore Dharma, continuing our examination of Lojong (Mind Training) slogans, discussed and practiced Tonglen.  Tonglen is a meditation practice of sending and taking.  You breathe in all the junk, and you breathe out light and space.  There were a handful of people in class who mentioned that Tonglen didn’t do much for them – that they couldn’t generate feeling.  Sensorially I find doing Tonglen with myself as the object is an extremely effective antidote – on the inhale I imagine blowing on the hot burning coal of confusion in my center and on the exhale I let the intensity disperse.  Doing it for other people is more difficult.  Practicing this week a co-worker nemesis (a definite source of annoyance during moody times) popped into my brain.  Without going into detail, as I was taking in her suffering, I could feel how every quality I really didn’t ‘like’ about her was resulting from the same kind of suffering that I feel when I’m irritable.  It was that sensitive, feet-too-cold hands-too-hot, under-hydrated over-sodium-ed crushing kind of feeling. For a moment I was disappointed in myself for my previous lack of awareness, but then compassionately breathing space and light towards her I – well, I simply felt better.  
Per Ethan’s instructions, in my jacket pocket there’s a slip of paper with the Lojong slogan: “When the World is Filled With Evil, Transform All Mishaps Into the Path of Bodhi.”  Whether or not my irritability ever permanently subsides, the only hope is that every emotional state I encounter becomes a workable method to get closer to compassion and love for all the sentient beings.  Because although it may take a lot of fish-wrestling to get there, when I’m really able to calm my mind and develop insight I’m able to realize, in the immortal words of Tupac – that the interdependent being I call I – ain’t (really) mad at cha.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=krxu9_dRUwQ