Revenge is not a positive state of mind or energy to indulge

The words of Michael K. Williams, “Revenge is not a positive state of mind or energy to indulge your self in,” burn with both warning and wisdom. He names what countless generations have known but often ignored—that the hunger for vengeance consumes not the enemy first, but the one who carries it. To dwell in revenge is to drink poison in the hope that another will fall. It may promise satisfaction, but it delivers only bitterness, robbing the soul of peace and the spirit of light.

The origin of such truth lies deep in human history, for from the earliest days, feuds and blood debts have destroyed families, tribes, and nations. To answer harm with harm feels natural, yet it multiplies pain without end. Williams, who portrayed characters both fierce and broken, understood this intimately. His own life and art bore witness to cycles of violence that destroy communities from within. His words are not mere counsel but a cry born of lived experience: revenge is a fire that consumes all who touch it.

History itself proves this lesson. Consider the tale of the Hatfields and McCoys, two families in 19th-century America locked in an endless cycle of bloodshed. Each act of vengeance, no matter how small, demanded another in reply. Years passed, lives were lost, and neither family emerged whole or victorious. Their feud became a parable of futility, showing that revenge may satisfy anger for a moment but leaves only ashes in its wake. Had forgiveness or restraint prevailed, generations of grief could have been spared.

Yet there are also stories of the opposite path—stories where the refusal of revenge brought healing. After the fall of apartheid in South Africa, many feared the nation would drown in blood as the oppressed struck back against their former oppressors. But under Nelson Mandela and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, the choice was made to pursue confession and forgiveness rather than retribution. The wounds were deep, the process imperfect, but this choice of positive energy over vengeance saved a nation from collapse. Here, the wisdom Williams speaks of became reality: by rejecting revenge, they embraced life.

Williams’ warning also speaks to the battlefield within the human heart. Revenge is not only about great feuds or national struggles; it lurks in the quiet corners of daily life. A cruel word returned, a slight remembered, a betrayal answered with spite—all are seeds of vengeance. To indulge them is to let them root and grow, until they choke out compassion and joy. To turn away from them is to free the spirit, to reclaim one’s energy for creation, growth, and love.

The lesson for us all is clear: to choose revenge is to remain bound to pain; to reject it is to step into freedom. The energy you hold is sacred. Do not waste it feeding the fire of hatred. Instead, let it flow into acts of building, of forgiveness, of new beginnings. What you nourish will grow—if you nourish vengeance, destruction will follow; if you nourish peace, then healing will come.

Practical action follows this wisdom: when wronged, pause before you act. Ask yourself not what will satisfy your anger today, but what will preserve your peace tomorrow. If reconciliation is possible, seek it. If it is not, release the burden of vengeance, for in letting go you claim back your strength. Direct your energy into pursuits that uplift, create, and inspire, for these alone will outlast the sting of injury.

Let future generations remember: the desire for revenge is ancient, but so too is the wisdom of rejecting it. As Williams teaches, vengeance is no true victory, only another chain upon the soul. The higher path is harder, but it is brighter—the path of forgiveness, renewal, and the channeling of positive energy into the making of a better world. For the greatest triumph is not in destroying an enemy, but in refusing to let hatred rule your heart.