In the year, 2000, I wrote a book for a South African long-distance cycling champion, Johnny G, called “Romancing the Bicycle.” After a punishing race that lasted three thousand one hundred miles, he had a dream of creating an indoor training program that would prepare cyclists for the rigor of riding on the road. He brought it to fruition and it turned out to be a revolutionary training method called “Spinning.” He built a prototype of a stationary racing bike he called the “Spinner,” and his program took off.
He and I were both trained athletes, cycling for him, the ballet for me, and during one of our interviews for the book, we discussed the different shapes that discipline takes. It can be a hard concept, a rigid structure that takes unswerving diligence, steadiness and
fortitude, staying on track when the going gets rough, never veering off the path. It demands impeccable focus as we refuse to stop until we reach our goal. I recall mornings when I was in ballet training and my mind tried to seduce me into skipping practice, just for one day. I didn’t succumb. Each morning, I began to expect the debate, the distant voice yakking in my head every day. “Should I or shouldn’t I? Will I or won’t I?”
I didn’t pay attention. Instead, I
used my discipline to keep working toward my goal and one day, it softened. Discipline
turned into consistency, allowing me to move forward with ease and transcend the debate all together. I surrendered into what was in front of me. I began to feel good about doing the same thing every day and seeing myself improvw. I looked forward to getting to the studio to rehearse instead of dreading it. My mind slowed down and I learned to balance on my toes, to spin, to jump, to be lifted gracefully into the air by a partner. It was a relief to stop battling and start breathing. To stop banishing and start welcoming.
My early dedication to something I loved has carried over into everything that I do. Right now, it’s my writing. Like most artistic endeavors, I started with a feeling of inadequacy. I judged my work and I compared myself to other writers whom I thought were better than I was. I thought I had no right to all myself a writer but I pushed through it. Today, I don’t think about what I call myself. Writing isn’t a “have to.” I do it because it gives me peace of mind.
Writing isn’t always easy for me. It can be extremely challenging. Maybe I don’t like a topic I chose for my weekly blog and I delete it and start all over again. That happens a lot, it happened today, and I use my discipline to stay with it and find something I like better. I’m working on a novel right now, 180 degrees from my non-fiction roots, and sometimes I write myself into a corner, not sure where to go next. I stop and remember my track record. I’ve written and deleted and written and deleted many times in my past, and it always works out in the end.
If I don’t use discipline to harangue, criticize or punish myself, if I use it to gentle myself along, that’s when the good stuff shows up. I’ve shifted the annoyance into familiarity. My daily practice feels right and satisfying. I learn a lot about myself and when I stop, it feels like I’ve healed something. Spiritual leader, Stephen Levine, titled one of his books, “The Healing I Took Birth For: Practicing Compassion.”
He said, “When an old habit shows up, don’t judge yourself. Just say, “Big surprise,” and carry on.
Doing something over and over again might sound boring but being disciplined leads to freedom. When you get your mind under control, it’s a great relief. When you get your body under control, it’s a great release. Just remember that we all have different ways of getting
there. Some people meditate. Others do Yoga. Some people run. Some people hike. Some people read. I write. I’ve stopped being afraid that I’m not good enough. I’ve stopped thinking I should have edited it better or started over.
What matters to me is making the entire process enjoyable and focusing on the individual parts that make up the whole. I like the click of the letters on the keyboard. I like the motion of the mouse.
I like watching the page fill up. I like losing time and during this dark
period in our history, I like having a distraction that occupies my mind and leads me to my creativity, a wonderful place to be. For me, it’s the only place to be.
Buddhist philosophy says that a disciplined mind leads to happiness. An undiscipline mind leads to suffering. Pema Chodron says, “Without the practice of discipline, we don’t have the support we
need to evolve.”
Evolving is what we’re trying to do. If we want to move forward and have less pain in our lives, it would be a good idea to avoid being harsh and angry with ourselves. If we focus on compassion and honesty, discipline won’t cause suffering. It won’t feel like a tyrant. It’ll soften up and open the door to a brand new world of curiosity, invention and imagination.
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