Anger is an overflow of energy whose field has become warped.

Unwrap, and you become a dweller of the soul's serene world.

Anger is a pain that seeks to hurl itself on to the imagined 'other'. Eliminate the 'otherness' and your non-dual self-dives in the moon waters of perennial unity of the One Who alone has become manifest as 'many', and includes this 'other'. That 'other' is but you projected as an image in the world-mirror. You and the image will wrestle only till the 'otherness' is vanquished

Anger is an infectious disease. Seek to sheath yourself in compassion lest you be infected and the infection then spread and become an epidemic of battles and wars and mass eliminations. Guard yourself with all the weaponry of love, make an ever-expanding fortress of love, lest an imagined other's nightmare infect your own mind.

Anger is a poison potion. It generates in you wars of the neuronal clusters, releases into your internal streams the death-dealing hormones of aggression. These daily poison sips sucked in by the cells and organs render them warped, voiding their self-regenerative capacities. A cell becomes distorted, an organ quits and an illness ensues. Cease this daily intake of poison drug so your cells may smile, your organs are as musical instruments of well-conducted orchestra and you live as a symphony the world flocks to hear.

Emotions are your own instruments to wield for the greater bene of yourself and the world. Let your volition send forth the bene before the male raises its serpent head from its coil.

May yours be a fragrant mind?

May yours be a crystal heart?

May you meet the serene soul, your own, that has re-dis-covered its lunar calm.

But...

If you be angry

I will blend a thousand affectionate glances in the cool waters of Ganga right where she emerges from the glacier cave, and with a hundred green leaves from the tallest banyan standing in a temple courtyard's holy ground I will sprinkle the blend all over your mind.

Then how will you ever be angry?

I will shape pitchers upon pitchers with the softest pure white petals of jasmines and lilies dripping with the early dawn's dew. I will fill my fragrant flower vessels with the milk of the liquid light of love that nightly floods the gullies between the star clusters of the milky way. I will sweeten the light with all the honey of the honeycomb of the soon rising sun1 and will bathe your heart with this sun-sweetened delight from stars.

Then how will you be angry again?

If you yet remain angry

I will spray your whole prana and even your soul with the sweetest syllabic petals cooled in a chiming silver bowl filled with the most liquid vowels of the prayerful ancient charms and affection-wielding chants of celestial amity.  Yes, I will spray you sprightly day and night, incessant especially in the moments between, with sippably softest serenades of these solace-scented sovereign psalms sung in the silent stillness on the sacred slender strings of my subtlest soul-ward-streaming sedate sushumna2 breath.

Then you will never be angry again.

To train you to direct the mind into pacific channels:

Relax your forehead

Feel the flow and the touch of the breath in your nostrils

Not permitting a pause between the breaths

Continue

While feeling the breath, think in the mind the beeja-mantra of peace: Om Sham (pronounced Om shum) through the length of the breath.

Maintain the flow of mind, mantra and breath.