Saint Anger

1. Make a wish. 2. Say a prayer, hope that someone’s out there. 3. Build a bridge to Babylon 4. And burn it to the ground.

Saint Anger with the rest of the Rásās.

“I love those who do not seek beyond the stars for reasons to perish,

but those who justify their wrath upon this earth.”

— Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Anger, in its essence, is not chaos but a concentrated form of awareness. It is the human response to limitation, the mind’s refusal to remain still when life demands movement. For centuries, anger has been treated as a moral defect — something to be suppressed or cleansed away. Yet in truth, it is one of the most authentic proofs of vitality. The absence of anger is not peace; it is indifference. The presence of anger, though often feared, is evidence that the will to live and the power to resist still remain active.

Now talking about the Nietzschean view, Friedrich Nietzsche did not treat anger as a weakness but as a sign of strength. To “justify one’s wrath upon this earth,” as he wrote, is not to indulge in rage, but to ground emotion within purpose. Anger is not a path of transformation in itself; it is the refusal to submit to paralysis. It is not creation, but the condition that makes creation possible. It gives man the ability to confront despair without surrendering to it. Nietzsche saw in wrath the moral courage to stay within reality — to fight the weight of existence without seeking escape in ideals or resignation.

Now considering the emotional landscape of the mind, sadness, anxiety, and depression are the silent degradations of energy. They pull the mind inward, dissolve focus, and reduce motion. Sadness lives in the past, anxiety in the future, depression in emptiness. Anger, however, belongs to the present. It breaks the cycle of helpless introspection by forcing attention outward. It does not heal these conditions but overrides them. It gives the psyche something stronger to hold onto; a surge of intensity that interrupts the slow decay of stillness. When sadness whispers “I am lost,” anger answers “I will move.” When anxiety shakes with doubt, anger steadies through defiance. When depression freezes the will, anger awakens it. It is not a medicine, but a stimulant; a surge that reclaims agency.

Now talking about its philosophical structure, anger is the most primal of human energies. It is not enlightenment but ignition. In the hierarchy of emotion — Anger → Valor → Love → Compassion → Peace → Wonder → Laughter → Disgust → Fear — anger stands at the summit not because it refines, but because it initiates. It is the base current of courage and the raw material of decision. Fear protects, but anger propels. Valor shapes it, love softens it, compassion redeems it, and peace completes it. But anger remains the first reaction to existence — the earliest signal of awareness that something can and must be acted upon.

Now coming to refinement, ordinary anger is raw and reactive. It burns briefly and leaves ruin in its wake. Saint Anger is different. It is not fire unleashed, but fire contained. It neither shouts nor storms. It is anger observed, analyzed, and directed. It no longer seeks to harm; it seeks to steady. The transition from blind rage to Saint Anger occurs when emotion is filtered through intellect. This does not change the force of anger, but gives it structure. It is not the absence of heat, but the mastery of temperature. A person who embodies Saint Anger does not transform through it — he simply refuses to collapse beneath the weight of fear, grief, or despair.

Now talking about practical use, anger must never stagnate, for when it remains trapped, it poisons. Its true value lies in motion. Physical exertion, such as heavy exercise, running, or martial training, allows the body to channel anger into strength. The body learns to bear intensity without breaking, to move without losing balance. Dedication to work or discipline channels anger into productivity. Anger sharpens attention, compresses time, and enforces focus. The mind, when engaged in purposeful work, finds the restlessness of anger turned into endurance. Reflection and silence refine it further, ensuring that it remains power, not poison.

To imbibe anger is to integrate it into one’s character not as rage, but as resilience. It must become quiet, internal, and constant. Anger must not flare and fade; it must persist as a disciplined presence. It should not seek transformation; it should enforce stability. It must not heal, but prevent collapse. A person who carries this inner steadiness no longer seeks calm as an escape, because his calm is built upon the command of his fire.

Now to conclude, when one says “I want my anger to be me,” it is not a plea for fury, but a declaration of endurance. It is to make anger inseparable from self a layer of resistance against despair, a shield against inertia. Such anger does not promise enlightenment; it promises survival. It allows one to remain upright when fear would have bent them, to continue moving when sadness would have drowned them, and to act when depression would have frozen them.

Saint Anger, therefore, is not transformation but protection. It is the emotion that holds the line when all others have fallen silent. It is not the force that heals the soul, but the one that keeps it alive long enough to heal. It is the unbroken pulse of strength beneath weakness.

21/04/2025: Made a wish

21/04/2025: Made a prayer, hoping someone’s up there

10/11/2025: Building a bridge to Babylon

11/09/2027: Will burn it to the ground