Dubious About Discipline?
Recently I was diagnosed with a condition known as kyphosis - rounding of the shoulders due to a deformation of the upper spine. The reason for the affliction, in my case at least, is both genetic and behavioral: several relatives, including my father, developed the condition; and, fifty years spent hunched over a desk didn’t help. Strangely, I wasn’t even aware of the change in my posture until Trina pointed it out and encouraged me to seek medical attention.
So now (following a visit to my primary and a bone density scan) I’m under the care of a very knowledgeable physical therapist who has prescribed several somewhat challenging exercises that must be performed daily. The entire regimen consumes about forty minutes, and because I am addressing the problem sooner rather than later, science says I can expect some improvement over time.
The secret, my PT explained, is consistency. “I don’t think that will be a problem,” I replied, “because I have always been a pretty disciplined person.”
Ah yes…there’s that poorly understood and oft-mangled term. Too often, discipline is conflated with punishment, as in that old Biblical injunction to give one’s children a good whack lest they turn into spoiled brats (Proverbs 13:24). But punishment handed out by disciplinarians aside, some worthies have taken on self-discipline as well. Jiddu Krishnamurti, an Indian-born spiritual prodigy embraced by the Southern California’s literati in the 1940’s, took a dim view of the practice, writing:
It is generally accepted that, in order to be efficient, you must be disciplined. But this very process of discipline is making the mind dull through conformity…To me, discipline is something altogether ugly.
According to Krishnamurti, all one really needs in life is love or, as St. Augustine put it, “Love and do as you will.” Sincere, unqualified amore banishes any need for discipline.
But is it possible that this is to misconstrue the true meaning of discipline and the constructive role it can and should play in our lives? The word itself derives from “disciple” and its etymology, Bruno Bettelheim suggests, points to the inculcation of “perseverance, patience, self-control, and concentration” under the tutelage of an experienced and caring mentor. That sounds about right, and I can think of at least a couple to whom, in this respect, I owe a debt. Moreover, understood in this sense, discipline can prove liberating (rather than constraining) in its own right.
Frankly, I would argue that even to love properly requires at least a modicum of discipline, including the ability to set aside one’s own agenda to honor someone else’s, and to refrain from saying hurtful things on impulse. Love versus discipline? A false dichotomy, I’d say.
Still, I have to concede that there can be such a thing as too much (self) discipline. At what point does a healthful, rewarding habit begin to take on the less salutary characteristics of compulsiveness and regimentation? Perhaps this, and not discipline itself, is what Krishnamurti objected to. One can become so anxious about slipping into lax, lazy, or irresponsible patterns of behavior that the ability to enter into a more relaxed and spontaneous state of being is forfeited.
I recognize that tendency in myself. During my working years I went to great lengths to meet every deadline, show up on time for appointments, pay bills well before their due date, and service our cars on schedule. As a competitive runner, I rarely missed a day of training, so at this juncture a little routine physical therapy doesn’t feel the least bit onerous.
But did I learn that lesson too well? That’s the question, at the ripe age of 72, I’m now asking myself. Time, perhaps, to put this well-worn virtue in its proper place.
