the absence of discipline: canceled checks

Why is it that ‘discipline’ so often seems like little more than 2½ four-letter

words? Or the rebuke of stern punishment? Or behavior as tightly controlled as a bank teller’s drawer? Why is it that typing this singular word into a Google search yields an overwhelming number of articles about disciplining children? Why is it that self-discipline more often than not evokes giving up statin-inducing cheesecake and excessive beer and lazy workdays? 

Because that’s where human instinct would have us go. Yet the absence of discipline yields little more than galling gluttony. The hard-to-digest fact—counterintuitive as it may initially seem—is that the joy of discipline is far more sustaining than pleasures as easy to obtain as pints of ice cream or Scotch. Take any kind of work (another four-letter word, but that’s for another time…) that you love and are highly motivated to achieve, then measure how it feels after four or five solid hours of intense work. Exhausted? Sure. Exhilarated? Equally sure.

This realization—coupled with its acceptance and implementation—has far-reaching practical significance covering a wide swath of society’s perpetual problems, from crime, violence and prejudice to addiction, obesity and debt. Disease is also an avenue that forces self-discipline, when the survival instinct has the dominant say. US Supreme Court Associate Justice Sonia Sotomayor reveals it both plainly and profoundly:

My diabetes is such a central part of my life. It did teach me discipline. It also taught me about moderation. I've trained myself to be super-vigilant… because I feel better when I am in control.

Is there any downside to a healthier heart and lungs, increased knowledge, relentless curiosity? Are those not in fact highly palatable goals? All living beings, it seems, are prone to indulge if given the chance, no doubt a remnant of literally having to kill for that day’s food centuries ago, when a walk into a supermarket or grocery store was as inconceivable as airplane travel. There is great freedom in self-control, in discipline, whereas canceling the checks and balances that keep us healthy and persevering and learning and growing and maturing results in little more than an overdrawn body and a poverty of new brain cells.

Yet start to accrue interest beyond the body’s insatiable pleasure centers and taste what really lasts. Take account of what a productive life means—on our children, our society, our resources, our law and 24 other ours—to learn that language, make that discovery, help those people, donate to that charity, mentor that student, build those bridges, love that neighbor.

And in return? The abundance of discipline yields a level of gratitude and humility, concurrent with a denial of excess, that offers hope to the body and brain while palpably counteracting our otherwise cutthroat world.

on the surface: stock exchanges

It’s surely understandable that the small daily interactions most of us carry on each day—be they with bank tellers to retail clerks and everyone in between—don't plumb the depths of how we truly feel. Who has the time or inclination? Who would go into a Starbucks and in response to "How are you doing?" confess to feeling poignantly low in the wake of a friend's or family member's death? Or, for that matter, on the other side of the compass:"I just came from a six-mile run and feel incredibly grateful to be able to put one foot in front of the other."

I’ve recently been more deliberate with these kinds of interactions, by responding with a very brief but sensitive comment about life, politics, health, family, education et al. It’s been gratifying to recognize how quickly we can form strong connections with those whom we don’t really know, with the resulting warmth carrying throughout the day.

Taking a further step back from those universal avenues paved with little more than meaningless chit-chat while waiting for this cup of venti nonfat latte or that bank-deposit receipt, why is the tendency with even regular interactions to stay on the surface? Why do some personal exchanges remain filled with stock responses and clichéd dialogue, while others develop into warm, open relationships—whether the contact is daily, monthly or even annually?

Paul Simon’s “The Dangling Conversation” describes a devastating if all-too-common scenario that could apply equally between spouses, friends, siblings or parent-child relationships:

It’s a still-life watercolor

Of a now late afternoon

As the sun shines through the curtain lace

And shadows wash the room

And we sit and drink our coffee

Couched in our indifference

Like shells upon the shore

You can hear the ocean roar

In the dangling conversation

And the superficial sighs

The borders of our lives

One can argue that chemistry plays its part. Common interests and shared histories—whether painful, euphoric or humorous—also provide the pulleys for strong bonds. Yet our time on this earthly little planet remains ever brief, so why not look outward, beyond ourselves, while engaging for a moment with the dry cleaner, hotel desk clerk or Apple store salesperson? And for longstanding relationships, why not continue to relish commonalities and events large and small that keep life perpetually fascinating, rather than focus on the all-too-familiar?

For each of us, personal communication remains vital, despite the distance that texts and tweets and posts and pages allow. If even occasionally or briefly, think about warm and freshly brewed conversations vs. surface replies and stock exchanges. Then emotively profit from the resulting interactions.