Last week I was saying alhamdulilah for words that made me angry, for I thought it was fuel to help me get a job done. I was going to write a post about how anger—when channelled in the right direction—can be something positive, and something useful. Anyway, I didn’t have time in the end, because I was busy channelling my anger towards that stubborn concrete.

It turns out that it wasn’t a very nuanced argument at all. I mean, I’m sure there is truth in this point in general, but it wasn’t a great example. True, I smashed my way through a third of it with an energy I probably could not have mustered in my usual melancholy state.

True indeed, but I also badly damaged my wrist.I know, to you it’s obvious that if the sledgehammer will fracture reinforced concrete, it will do the same to bone if you let it. But you have to understand: this rage was a fuel, and I was writing out the blog post to accompany it in my head as I worked: I had to carry on to prove my point.

Plonker. By the end of the week I couldn’t even carry a bag with that arm, let alone finish the job.

Yes, so I hired a Bosch breaker on Saturday and finished the job in half an hour.

Hmm, nice. I spent every evening after work on that job, and I could have just hired the machine and saved myself the trouble. It’s so funny that I was coming up with this argument about the benefits of anger as I worked. Because now all I can think of is a saying of our blessed Prophet, upon whom be peace.

‘The strong man is not the one who is strong at wrestling, but the one who controls himself in anger.’

Do the flowers bloom in rage?