Understanding Anger: The Path to Peace

Issue #182

The fluorescent lights of Subway buzzed overhead as we finished our sandwiches. It was 2008, and the economic slowdown had hit our business hard. Just a year earlier we'd celebrated record profits; now I was cutting staff and watching revenue plummet.

Every morning I woke with a knot in my stomach. My teenage son's rebellion at home added another layer of stress - doors slammed, grades dropped, arguments erupted over nothing. With my wife away visiting her parents, I'd suggested this dinner as a break from the tension.

‘My keys,’ my cousin patted his pockets as we stepped into the parking lot. His face went pale. ‘And my phone.’

We rushed back inside. The table was empty. Four subway employees stood behind the counter, faces blank.

‘Did anyone see a phone and keys here?’ I asked, scanning their faces.

They shook their heads. I dialled my cousin's number. It didn’t go through. Someone had switched it off.

I surveyed the restaurant. It was empty except for us and the staff. Someone was lying.

A young man in the corner avoided eye contact. He fidgeted with his uniform. Something about his nervousness triggered a certainty in me.

‘You,’ I pointed. ‘Did you see a phone?’

‘No, sir.’ His eyes darted to the side.

Something broke inside me. The pressure of the past months, the frustration, the helplessness. It all crystallised into a white-hot rage that consumed rational thought.

I lunged across the counter and grabbed him by the collar. His eyes widened in shock as I yanked him forward. My cousin shouted something, but his voice seemed distant, underwater.

‘Where is it?’ I screamed, slamming my fist into the metal prep table. The cashier backed away. Another employee reached for a phone.

The young man struggled, but I tightened my grip. ‘I don't have it.’

I dragged him toward the kitchen, knocking over chairs. A display case crashed to the floor. My father called my name, but I couldn't stop. Years of bottled rage found its target in this stranger.

In one violent motion, I slammed his head against the kitchen counter. The sound, a dull crack , cut through the chaos. Blood spread across the stainless steel surface. The restaurant went silent except for his whimpering.

I looked at my hands, then at the blood. What had I become?

‘In the helmet box,’ he whispered, touching his head. ‘On my scooter.’

We found the phone in his delivery scooter outside. The keys he'd thrown into bushes near the dumpster.

Later that night, as my cousin drove us home, my father sat silent beside me. My sons stared out the window. No one spoke.

What if I'd killed him? Over a phone? The thought haunted me. This wasn't about theft. Something had broken inside me, something I couldn't control.

When my wife returned and heard what happened, she didn't judge. She made one call: to a therapist who specialised in anger management.

‘This isn't you,’ she said, handing me the appointment card. ‘This is something happening to you.’

Those twelve weeks of therapy pulled me back from an edge I hadn't even recognised I was standing on.

I once justified my anger as natural and necessary for asserting myself.  Looking back, I see how absurd those justifications were. Breaking my hand, punching a TV, shattering glasses, hurling abuse at people I loved - none of it solved anything.

Anger follows a predictable path:

Irritation → Frustration → Anger → Rage

Neuroscience explains why this progression feels so powerful. When triggered, our amygdala floods our system with adrenaline and cortisol, preparing us for ‘fight or flight.’ Blood rushes from our rational prefrontal cortex to our muscles. We literally become less capable of thinking clearly.

Dr. Ryan Martin, anger researcher at University of Wisconsin-Green Bay, explains: ‘Anger isn't the problem. It's what we do with it that matters. Anger evolved as a survival tool, but in modern contexts, it rarely serves its intended purpose.’

My counsellor helped me see that the source of anger is always within. When we blame external circumstances or other people for our anger, we surrender our power.

The event itself doesn't cause anger. Our beliefs about it do.

Let Be and Let Go

Two simple phrases changed everything for me: ‘Let Be and Let Go.’ Sister Shivani of the Brahma Kumaris teaches that this approach is fundamental to emotional freedom. As she explains, ‘When we react to situations, we give away our power. When we respond with awareness, we keep our power.’

Anger is a choice we make, not something that happens to us. ‘No one can make you angry without your permission,’ she teaches. ‘The person who angers you controls you. Why give away your peace?’

I now divide my approach to life into two mental frameworks:

The ‘Let Them’ Reality

People need to feel what they feel. Your friend's sadness, your colleague's frustration. These emotions belong to them, not you. Your job is to witness, not fix.

People learn from mistakes. The natural consequences of actions teach more effectively than your warnings ever could. Step back and allow learning to happen.

People have their own minds. Different perspectives are not a threat to yours. The diversity of thought enriches our collective understanding rather than diminishing individual viewpoints.

People face their own results. The universe has its own feedback system. You don't need to be its enforcer.

People change on their own time. Transformation is an internal process that follows its own timeline, not yours. Patience is not passive waiting but active acceptance.

The ‘Let Me’ Reality

You can say no. Boundaries are not walls but healthy definitions of where you end and others begin. Your energy is finite and deserves protection.

You need rest. Your body's signals matter. Honouring your need for recovery is wisdom, not weakness.

You choose your path. Your life's direction belongs to you alone. External validation is pleasant but unnecessary for forward movement.

You feel what you feel. Emotions are data, not directives. They inform your experience but need not dictate your actions.

You can't control everything. Surrender to this truth brings freedom, not defeat. The illusion of control causes more suffering than the reality of uncertainty.

Marcus Aurelius wrote: ‘You have power over your mind, not outside events. Realise this, and you will find strength.’

Peace isn't the absence of problems but the ability to deal with them without losing our centre. It starts with the recognition that no one ‘makes’ us angry. We choose it. And we can choose differently.

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Incase you missed the previous issue on Moments That Matter, here are the highlights:

• Charisma is about emotional connection, not status or power.
  It's how you make people feel, not what you say or own, that leaves a lasting impact.

• Energy, confidence, and storytelling are the three pillars of charisma.
  Together, they create a magnetic presence that draws people in effortlessly.

• Charisma can be cultivated.
  It’s not an inborn trait — genuine energy, self-assuredness, and engaging communication can be consciously developed.

• Moments of connection matter more than grand gestures.
  Small, genuine interactions — like a kind smile or a heartfelt conversation — are what people truly remember.

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Meet you on the Eighteenth Sunday (18/52) of 2025. Take care