Anger

Just for today, I will not anger. Not because I’m above it. Not because I’ve transcended the heat that rises in the belly when life feels sharp and unfair. But because today - just today - I choose to return to now. I choose not to carry the burning coal. I choose not to feed the fire of what cannot be changed. 

In the practice of Reiki, this is not a commandment. It’s an invitation to compassion. To loosen the grip of what has already happened. To stop rehearsing the story that keeps your chest tight, and your jaw clenched. To remember, your breath is always here. Your body is always home. Love is always one heartbeat away. 

This precept asks, what if you laid it down just for today? 

The resentment. 

The replay. 

What if you let the anger dissolve into the stream of this very breath? 

Because anger is not the enemy. It’s the echo of unmet needs. It’s the whisper beneath the wound. And when we meet it with presence, it softens. It tells us the truth. It turns into a deeper kind of love. "Just for today, I will not anger" doesn’t mean pretending you’re fine. It means remembering you don’t have to drag yesterday into this moment. You don’t have to armor up. You don’t have to defend. You can feel the fire without fanning it. You can return. To the breath. To the body. To the sacred now. Where love waits patiently for your yes. 

This is what Reiki teaches us. To become spacious enough to hold it all - without letting it harden us. To be with instead of reacting. To love ourselves even in the moment we forget. 

So, we repeat: Just for today, I will not anger. And when the heat rises, as it will…we breathe. we soften. we come home. Again and again, until presence becomes our prayer.