Taming the Beast

                     

                     

Taming the Beast:

How a Bit o’ Humility and a Lot o’ Gumption Can Muzzle the Wildness of the Soul.

Now, let me tell ye, battling them wild notions of the flesh with nothin’ but pure sweat and aching limbs is like trying to tie up a wild bull with baling twine—sure, it’ll hold for a minute, but give it a snort and a kick, and he’s off again, mad as ever. There’s many a fella gone down that road thinking they could wrestle themselves into sainthood with a cold floor and no supper, only to find the rogue inside just waitin’ for a soft bed and a bit o’ stew to come roaring back.

But there’s a craftier way to go about it, boyo. You see, when a man takes up the arms of temperance—keeps himself sharp, watches the twilight, and doesn't let the candle burn for idleness—that's when the rogue gets yoked like a young ox in spring. It’s not about strangling the fight outta yourself, it’s about steering it, with the steady hand of someone who’s too wise to be fooled by their own cravings.

Now, if you’re lookin’ to do more than just wrangle the beast—if you want to bury the rascal for good—you’ll need a dash of humility and the patience of a stone wall. Keep your cool when the winds rise, don’t go flying off the handle, and let thirst teach you the taste of calm. That’s the sort of thing that hushes the wildness ‘til it’s not just tied or yoked, but gone altogether, tucked away under a quiet dune where even the crows forget to caw.

And that sand I’m on about? ‘Tisn’t the sandy stretch of a summer strand, oh no—it’s humility itself. Bare as the bog in winter, it feeds no fire, grows no mischief, and gives the passions not a bite to chew on. It’s the kind of ground where pride gets lost, and with it, all the noise that sets a man’s heart galloping where it ought to be pacing.

So take it from an old soul who’s wrestled a few devils and danced with more than one daft idea—there’s no grander strength than knowing when to sit still, no finer weapon than a quiet mind. Tie him with twine if you must, yoke him if you’re wise—but if you’re blessed with a drop of true humility, you’ll not just tame the beast, you’ll bury him neat, no fuss, no noise, and no need for a second go.