Discipline

Not that kind.

Sorry.

Being late for work has always always always been a problem with me. I'm not the kind of person who is blase about a thing like that. Or anything. The reasons were manifold.

At times, I felt that because my work was so superior, I felt that 'The Rules' that applied to everyone else didn't apply to me; I was untouchable and irreplaceable. Sometimes, it was purely passive-aggressive on my part: I hate my job and my employer, so take that! Most often, the rich, full life I lead meant that getting to bed in time for me to get a good night's sleep was unlikely at best. And always always always I have been good for nothing in the mornings. My reptile brain is in charge until about 11 a.m. The clock seems to play tricks on me. I'll sit down with a cup of tea and take my Braun electric razor to my head, and when I look at the clock, a half an hour has gone by. And I'm late for work. Again.

Since I've worked at this job, I have never been late. Not one time. I punch the clock and get to work. Despite some thing or other that I absolutely positively have to attend to in the mornings, despite getting trapped behind a ponderously slow moving school bus, despite the fact that my work day starts at 7 a.m. (...why in the name of everything that is Holy and good?), I've been on time.

And it's not hard. I go to bed at 10:30. I pack my lunch and give my pate a good shaving the night before. When the alarm goes off, I get out of bed instead of just laying there.

It's amazing the change this has brought about. I can do this. I can manage this aspect of my often unmanageable life. I can do this thing that eluded me for so long. When I started the job, the sun had just come over the hill when I set out to take Faithful Companion for his walk. Now, I leave the house in the darkness, and get to see the sunrise--always glorious--on my drive to work. Dawn is pretty amazing. Always.

This has given me this sense that there is perhaps a lot out there that I had previously considered to be out of my reach. This, I think, would be the benefit of discipline.

'Discipline' comes from a Greek word that means 'to follow.' Specifically, to follow a Rule. Not a 'no-spitting-on-the-sidewalk' kind of rule, but rather a Rule of Living. A million years ago, when I was considering monastic life, that was really attractive to me. I saw it as a way to freedom. Not having to worry about the minor decisions of life (when to get up, what to have for breakfast, when to set to work, what to do, how to organize the day) would free the mind and libido to address the Great Things in life. And, it was a great trade-off: if you do this in this way, then food, shelter, clothing were there for you.

Another rule I've discovered about life: The more you do, the more you do. The more you accomplish, the more you end up accomplishing. The more densely packed your schedule, the more free time you seem to have. Everything just runs along fine.

The battle here is a philosophical one. Against Nihilism. Being a nihilist, this is tricky for me. Ultimately, of course, it doesn't really matter. It's all pretty pointless. "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds." Here's the best I can offer on that score: I'll be a happier person on a day-to-day basis. There's less to worry about. Less chance that the Demons of Four Thirty in the Morning will be paying a visit. It's the Good Life.

Discipline.

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