It is my own firm belief that the strength of the soul grows in

The words of Mahatma Gandhi resound with the weight of ancient truth: “It is my own firm belief that the strength of the soul grows in proportion as you subdue the flesh.” In this declaration lies the wisdom of one who knew that man is not merely body, but a union of spirit and matter. The body clamors for comfort, for indulgence, for ease; but the soul longs for freedom, clarity, and union with truth. When the body rules, the spirit weakens; but when the flesh is subdued, the soul rises in radiance, like a flame freed from smoke.

Gandhi himself lived this teaching. In his fasts, in his simple clothing, in his deliberate renunciation of luxury, he proclaimed to the world that true strength does not come from satisfying the appetites of the body, but from mastering them. Hunger, thirst, weariness—these he bore willingly, not to punish himself, but to train the will, to make the soul sovereign over the flesh. In his struggle for India’s freedom, it was not armies or wealth that gave him power, but the force of a spirit sharpened through discipline and self-control.

The ancients also taught this lesson. Recall the Stoics of Greece and Rome, who declared that freedom comes not from owning much, but from needing little. Epictetus, once a slave, rose to become a teacher of emperors, proclaiming that no chains could bind the man who had mastered his desires. His body was once broken by cruelty, but his soul grew unshakable, precisely because he had subdued the demands of the flesh and turned his will toward higher things.

Consider, too, the story of the desert fathers, those early Christian monks who fled into the wilderness of Egypt. They left behind wealth, family, and worldly ambition, choosing instead a life of hunger, solitude, and prayer. By denying the flesh, they discovered a strength that astonished their contemporaries. Their words, spoken from caves and deserts, carried a power that emperors could not command. It was their disciplined souls, not their bodies, that shook the world.

Yet Gandhi’s teaching is not a call to despise the body, but to place it in its rightful order. The flesh is a servant, not a master. When the flesh dictates, man becomes a slave—to food, to pleasure, to fear of pain. But when the flesh is disciplined, the soul takes its rightful throne, guiding man toward justice, truth, and peace. This is not hatred of the body, but mastery of it, so that the higher self may direct life’s course.

The lesson for us is this: do not live as a captive to your appetites. Do not believe that strength comes from muscles alone, or beauty from outward appearance. True strength is invisible, the resilience of the soul that has learned to rule itself. In moments of trial, it is not the indulgent spirit that endures, but the disciplined one. Train your soul, and it will carry you farther than the flesh ever could.

Practical action lies before you. Begin with small acts of mastery. Fast from excess—whether of food, of comfort, or of idle distraction. Rise earlier than the body wishes, speak truth when fear urges silence, give when greed urges hoarding. In each of these, you subdue the flesh and strengthen the soul. Over time, your spirit will grow into a fortress, able to withstand suffering, temptation, and despair.

So let Gandhi’s words be remembered as counsel for all generations: the soul grows in strength when the flesh is subdued. And in this growth lies the power to transform not only oneself, but the world. For the man who has conquered his own desires stands unconquerable before kings, armies, and empires. He walks in freedom, and his very life becomes a light for others to follow.