Norm · 2021-04-13
When I was in grade school, I had a real problem with homework, a struggle that followed me through the years and defined much of my early school experience. I just didn’t see the benefit or purpose to doing work on material I already understood quite well, feeling that time was better spent exploring other interests. As you can imagine, this wasn’t really a supported viewpoint by the teachers who were busy assigning me said homework, often viewing it as a necessary reinforcement of what I already knew. Mostly this went on with a few notes home to my parents, and some slipping grades in classwork, though the test grades which measured my understanding of the material never suffered at all. There was one teacher however, who in addition to the above, assigned me in class writing assignments, repetitive sentence writing that seemed to take up a great deal of my time.
She and I waged a battle through the year, a quiet conflict that played out in the corner of the room while the rest of the class moved on. In class, I would be assigned to write out sentences, often with my desk facing away from her ongoing lessons, a setup I’m still not sure how was supposed to help me learn, but I accepted it nonetheless. Out of class I ignored the homework assignments completely, drifting away from the expectations she had for me with a sense of freedom. The battle raged through terms and tests, which I always did well on, and I would call it a draw, neither of us truly winning the war. I didn’t fail any of her classes, and she didn’t get me to do any homework, but I did end up consuming quite a lot of paper writing out those sentences, filling page after page with my own handwriting.
One of the last she assigned me, and stuck for about half the year we shared together, was about 4 paragraphs long, a length that felt monumental to my young self. The core idea was simple, yet it was a lengthy woefully inaccurate sentiment. “Discipline is the ability to finish a task once you have started it.” 36 years later, as I write today, I do wish I could remember all of it, but the key idea is expressed in that quote.
With what I know now, I would go back and have a nice discussion with her as I feel she completely missed the point, especially for the young me. I never started the homework, and if I didn’t start it, then by her own definition, I wasn’t undisciplined at all, a loophole that allowed me to sleep soundly at night (especially when blended with my overall disdain for pointless work). It’s interesting to notice how definitions can shift and change as we grow older, revealing new depths to our experiences. When we think about discipline these days, we think about adherence to a set of principles that we choose, a framework for living that gives us structure and meaning.
Maybe it’s sticking to a diet or exercise plan, perhaps it’s how we control our spending, all small acts of will that add up to a life well lived. We admire those who have this attribute to them that enables them to follow through with these restrictions and control, and wonder how they do it, searching for that elusive quality. Today, I’m here to tell you that the secret to discipline is actually quite simple, a realization that might come to you slowly as you read these words. It just takes a little bit of awareness of self beyond the moment, a mindfulness meditation practice that allows us to step back and observe our own behaviors.
I would change what my teacher assigned me to this simple statement, a phrase that feels much more aligned with who I am today as well as being much more true to life. “Discipline is the ability to choose what you want most over what you want now.” When we frame it that way, discipline is always acting in our own best interests, a selfless act of caring for our future selves. It’s not any feat of self-control, but it’s only the choice to act as selfishly as possible, prioritizing long-term gain over immediate gratification. We often think of discipline as self-sacrifice, but with this reframe it becomes a form of self-indulgence, allowing us to enjoy the fruits of our patience long after the initial desire has passed. Allow yourself to consider how often you might be choosing what you want now over what you want most, and what might happen if you shifted that balance.
There’s a study analyzing the behavior of young children, the famous Stanford marshmallow experiment, where they’re told that they can either have a treat now, or if they wait a while, an extra treat. Those who can wait do better in later life, performing better on their college entrance exams and being described as more competent, a testament to the power of delayed gratification. Just as those children learned to sit with their desire, we too can learn to sit with our own impulses, watching them rise and fall without immediately acting on them. The extra treat represents our future self’s reward, a reminder that waiting is not just about denial, but about gathering strength for a greater joy. Being able to understand the consequences of ones own actions, and to choose the better long term outcomes for ourselves, not only is a deeper insight to discipline, but it is also indicative of better performance on a number of other measures in our lives.
Which leads us to the real secret, to have the short and long term awareness of consequences of our actions, and to consistently make the choices that give us the best benefit. This doesn’t mean that we need to always deny the short term wants and desires we may have, for life is meant to be enjoyed in the present moment as well as planned for the future. On balance though, we want to be holding the awareness of the implications of our behavioral options in mind, and always choosing that which will give us the outcome that we really want most. Perhaps you are beginning to see how this awareness might feel light and easy, a simple shift in perspective that opens up new possibilities, like a gentle guide leading you toward your goals.
The hidden depth of discipline is to figure out what we really want most, and how to keep in touch with that as it may evolve through our lives. It’s a journey of discovery, one that invites us to look inward and listen to our own hearts, trusting that we know what is best for us. Maybe what you want most is health, or peace, or connection, and discipline is simply the vehicle that gets us there. This, of course, is a topic for another day, a thought to carry with you as you move forward, knowing that every choice is an opportunity to align with your deepest desires. I hope you might find a sense of relief in this new way of looking at discipline, and perhaps even a little excitement for the changes it can bring.
     
Coaching with Norm · Gold Coast, Australia
Coaching where this applies:
Leadership Creativity Change & Transitions Performance Intimate Discovery