discipline, part 1
Every morning, I walk outside for at least 30 minutes. Then I come inside and eat breakfast.
I write every day. Sometimes it’s handwritten notes in one of my journals; sometimes it’s longer pieces that are dictated. I’m getting ideas for fictional stories.
I’m finding different ways to sit.
I’m meditating while standing, or walking around.
I’m listening to what my body tells me, and doing my best to figure out how to make things work better. Me and my body’s preferences are more important than what other people want or expect, especially when those things would be painful and/or distressing. I’m standing up for myself by figuring out ways that things could be done better for me, and then insisting that my preferences be considered.
I’m looking for people who fully inhabit their own emotions, and express them honestly, even when that makes them truly vulnerable. We’ve seen two films recently. George Clooney inhabited all sorts of complex and nuanced depths, and helped me feel them along with him, in The Descendants. But We Bought a Zoo was family-friendly ‘product’ where all the human actors were trying too hard, the script was a mess, and the animals deserved a better story to appear in.
I’m writing poems about difficult events in my past.
I’m rethinking my relationships to ‘control’ and ‘knowing’, because I don’t believe either are necessary or desirable. Which is frightening because the ideas run so counter to common sense, but it’s also intoxicating. I’m ‘flying blind’, but somehow I’m not crashing.
Discipline seems to be a tool, not a blueprint. I decide how it gets used.