The iron bars of Halberstadt prison could not contain George Müller's rage. At twenty, he sat in darkness, jailed for unpaid debts. His mind spinning with schemes of revenge. Theft, lies, drunkenness, gambling. These were the tools of his trade.

But something was dying in that cell. Something that had fed on his fury for years.

The Yogis taught that within each heart lives a poisonous plant. It grows in darkness, feeds on selfishness, and spreads its roots through countless lifetimes. Most people nurture it unknowingly. They water it with resentment, fertilize it with fear, and wonder why their lives bear bitter fruit.

"Seek in the heart the source of evil, and expunge it," Mabel Collins wrote. "Only the strong can kill it out."

And George Müller's proved to be strong. His transformation began with confession. To himself. He named the poison that had been growing in his heart for twenty years. And "his heart bled," as the ancient teaching warns, "and his whole life seemed to be utterly dissolved."

His old self died violently. His schemes crumbled. His identity as a skilled manipulator vanished. For weeks, he felt hollow, uncertain, as if he were disappearing entirely. But from this dissolution emerged a different man. A better man.

His heart had been emptied of poison and filled with something else. Love. Service. Purpose. He began caring for orphans. For over 50 years, Müller would house and educate more than 10,000 souls, never asking for donations, never seeking recognition.

The man who once stole from strangers now provided for thousands. This is the strength the Yogis spoke of, the courage to identify and destroy what corrupts us from within.

Most people lack this courage. They prefer to manage their darkness rather than eliminate it. They make excuses, blame circumstances, or hope time will solve what only deliberate action can cure.

But George Müller chose the path of the strong. He tore the destructive plant from his heart by its roots. The process nearly killed him. But what emerged was a man who could live "in the eternal," beyond the pull of past regrets or future anxieties.

You carry this same choice. We all do. The poison in your heart may not be theft or drunkenness. It might be envy, fear, pride, or the endless need for approval. But it's there, growing stronger with each passing day, unless you find the strength to uproot it completely.

The bleeding is not the end. It's the beginning.