Pondering the value and dangers of self-discipline

I often think that anything worthwhile I’ve achieved in my life, I’ve achieved mainly through self-discipline.

For example, while preparing to write law school exams, I did little besides study for months at a time and, as a result, graduated with first class honours. Similarly, in the face of ever increasing social pressure to buy stuff I don’t need, I’ve instead chosen to live more modestly than I need to, so that I walk more lightly on the planet and provide greater financial support to the people and organizations I care about.

Currently, the goals on which I’m most focussed are to run the Chicago marathon in a “personal best” time and to raise money for cancer research. If I achieve them, it will be because I’ve spent 5 months of my life closely adhering to the toughest training and fundraising program I’ve ever followed, sometimes to the detriment of other important aspects of my life.

In personal and professional relationships, too, I’ve come to believe that self-discipline is key. I genuinely believe that, ultimately, it is only I who determines how I will respond to any situation. No one else can make me feel or think or behave in a particular way. It’s up to me to decide how I want to respond, and then to exert the self-discipline needed to respond in that way – even when I am most tempted to do otherwise.

But then there are the dangers of self-discipline. Applied too rigidly, it can result in lost opportunities to savour life. Focussed on a goal, or on the effort to conform to expectations, I have sometimes concluded, quite wrongly, that there isn’t time to give my cats the attention they want, be with friends, gaze at the stars, go for a run, or admire a piece of artwork.

The truth is that life has very little meaning and joy for me if I am so self-disciplined – so distracted by thoughts of the goals I want to achieve, and the ways I should behave – that I no longer see, touch, smell, taste and feel this moment, and all the other individual moments that make up my life.

Given that, it seems to me the trick is to temper self-discipline with a loving and open-hearted approach to experiencing the world and interacting with others. Self-discipline makes it possible to achieve worthwhile things, and to behave in thoughtful and responsible ways. But I don’t want it to interfere (at least, too often) with my ability to taste delicious food, appreciate the beauty of nature, revel in a piece of music, feel the strength of my body as I run, or love other people – however incautiously. Beauty, joy and love are all far too precious to waste.

Rain, rain, go away

It's been a dreary summer weather-wise. To this point, I've been grateful for the cool, damp weather since I'm training to run a marathon in October and moderate temperatures make it a lot easier to run. But even I am beginning to tire of day after day after day of it. It's late July for goodness sake. By this time, it should be sweltering hot and humid in the nation's capital. Instead, we've only had one evening warm and dry enough to sit outside for supper, and the long range forecast is for more of the same.

Looking ahead to the upcoming long weekend, my husband and I were thinking about a romantic jaunt to Montreal for a day or two, but it seems ill-advised in light of the forecast. Probably best to stay close home and plan on visiting the National Gallery and/or taking in a concert at the Black Sheep Inn in Wakefield. If the sun surprises us and comes out for a few hours we can always hop on our bicycles for a long lazy ride along the river. So long as we promise ourselves we'll ignore all chores and home renovation projects for the duration, it can still be a restful and relaxing weekend.

There you are then. Weather gods, do what you may. We will find a way to enjoy the summer despite you.

Wanting

I’ve been thinking lately about the power and allure of wanting something – particularly something you can’t have. Why is it that, so often, the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is want things? It seems a peculiar thing to do – particularly when those things are things I know I can’t have or – even more puzzling – would never choose to have.

A case in point: I woke up this morning wanting a pair of red patent sandals with 4 inch heels I saw in a shoe store yesterday. Now, I would never actually choose to buy such shoes because I know they're a ridiculous form of footwear that would be both impractical and painful to wear – no matter how tall and sexy they might make me feel for the first 10 minutes I had them on. In any case, I can think of a hundred better ways to spend my money. (A donation to the Stephen Lewis Foundation comes to mind, for example.) So why did I wake up wanting those damned shoes?

It seems to me that there is something in the wanting itself that's pleasurable. Certainly, there’s a thrill that comes with desiring something or someone you know you can’t have (an even more intense thrill, if you think maybe you can, but shouldn't). And, depending upon the vividness of your imagination, there is great pleasure in imagining that you have or are with the object of your desire. But, ultimately, in that moment when you have to stop daydreaming and get on with real life, wanting also leads to disappointment, frustration and pain.

Like many people, I try hard to live every day with integrity, compassion, generosity and a sense of personal responsibility. And I genuinely believe that I have the power to choose how I will respond to most of the potentially destructive or hurtful impulses I feel. I am after all a responsible adult. Nevertheless, there are times when I envy those who seem readier or more able to give in to wanting.

Perhaps, they aren’t greedier, more selfish, less disciplined or more irresponsible than me. Perhaps, they simply have greater confidence in the wisdom of their own hearts, more faith that the universe will sort it all out in the end, and more courage to do things that frighten them. The one thing I know for sure is that they aren’t left wondering where their wanting might have taken them.

Spring Run

Last weekend was glorious for running. Relatively warm (12 degrees Celsius) and overcast, with sunny breaks, and no wind to speak of. I started out unsure I had the energy to tackle the 14km training run I'd planned to help me prepare for an upcoming race. How wrong I was. The sights and sounds I experienced along the way were more than enough motivation.

Because it was somewhat cool, the park in which I started my run was unusually quiet, and I could almost imagine I was in the country alone. Buds painted tree branches with a soft green blush, but didn't hide the wildlife living in and on them. Every few feet, I caught another glimpse of squirrels and chipmunks scurrying to prepare for the arrival of their new pups. Most glorious of all, though, were the birds.

The first and most impressive fellow I stumbled upon was a pileated woodpecker. I didn't know such clownish characters inhabited my local woods but, apparently, they do. (In fact, another visited my backyard only this afternoon so I know I didn't dream him or her up.) The fellow I stumbled upon was almost as big as a crow. He (or she) was determinedly mining for insects in a fallen log just two feet or so off the path, and seemed completely oblivious to my presence. I didn't have a camera with me, but the bird I saw looked very much like the one pictured above.

Needless to say, I stopped and watched him or her for several minutes before running on. Now that my interest was peaked, I began paying attention and was pleased to note a variety of other birds cavorting in the bushes and trees along the trails. Of course, there were cardinals, chickadees and junkos (regulars at the feeder in our backyard), but I also spotted robins, red-winged blackbirds, a flock of black birds with shiny blue heads that I think were either grackles or a Brewer's blackbirds, a variety of sparrows, and what I'm pretty sure was a female downy woodpecker. Not a bad bit of birdwatching for a beginner, if I do say so myself.

By the time I arrived home, I was not only pleased with myself for having completed a substantial run, but grateful that running had offered me another incredible opportunity to appreciate the beauty of the world around me.

It's here!

Spring at last! In a matter of days, we have gone from the depths of winter (with temperatures ranging as low as -20 degrees celsius with the wind chill) to 15 degrees and sunny today. It feels miraculous.

Even more miraculous are the plants in my garden. When a shovelled the last of an icey pile of snow from a flower bed in front of the house, I found iris leaves poking through the ground beneath it -- growing into the snowbank. Amazing! Needless to say, the discovery spurred me to shovel snow from the bed at the back of the house as well. And, again I was delighted -- this time to find the tender green shoots of daisies breaking the ground. How can plants imagine it's time to poke their heads up when the ground around them is still frozen and they are covered by more than a foot of snow? However they do it, I'm very grateful.

The forecasters are calling for rain tomorrow, but I don't mind. Today, has been a glorious gift!