Self-imposed Discipline

 “No pain, no gain” I feel that this idea, though quite banal, represents my attitude towards self-discipline. The idea itself of discipline feels rather drab at first taste- kind of like a mouthful of raw spinach. But, as I have come to feel more strongly about to an even greater extent during these writings, I feel that without partaking in activities that are admittedly distasteful, but deeply meaningful, life itself tends to lose its value.

My first recollection of real self-discipline from my childhood began in the summer following my second grade. My dad had encouraged me, out of a concern for my fitness, to begin the habit of running 30 rounds in the park every morning. Though it was difficult, and observed some noticeable effects, not only upon my fitness, but also upon others who took notice. I received commendations from neighbors and even my second grade teacher for the noticeable physical effect that participating in this activity had had upon me.

About 5 years later, as I was beginning high school, I was entered into kickboxing, boxing, and wrestling classes by my mom at the local gym. Now, I must admit, going to the gym and participating in the classes was fun. But I observed that, in addition to the excitement of participating in a class with other kids my age, the discipline that my kickboxing coach maintained within the class also had a large impact upon my behavior and what I valued in that class. One time, I was fooling around on the mats before class started, trying to do a cartwheel around my friends or something, when the coach had told us to stretch. Being called out and reprimanded by my coach caused me embarrassment, but also encouraged me to follow the teachings of my coach.

On a second occasion, I had intentionally whistled in an attempt to “be funny” while the whole gym was attempting the mannequin challenge back in 2016. Well, that was a separate incident that taught me to do as told.

The reasons that encouraged me to dedicate full effort into the classes were likely numerous, but there are a few supporting incidents that come to mind. Firstly, I was routinely the fastest (occasionally second-fastest) sprinter in the gym, and would make an effort to come first, both in an attempt to attain the respect of others, occasionally to impress a couple of girls that I liked, and also because it had given me a great sense of enjoyment to put effort into running fast.

This effort soon spread to different areas of our gym exercise, and the effort I put into situps and pushups were rewarded by my coach, whether through being asked to demonstrate an exercise that I did well, being awarded a stripe to my belt, or by working my way up to the top rung of the cohort of kickboxers in the gym.

I chose to bring up this example of the gym not because it was particularly tough to stick to this pattern of discipline, or that I had overcome a particular advantage. Rather, I use it as an example to demonstrate two things 1) the inherent sense of meaning that arises from goal-driven activity, and 2) the extent to which friends and those around me can associate a sense of reward with tough tasks.

I’d say that, like most others my age, I’ve grown since those pre-teen early teen years, and have made conscious realizations that have contributed to my growth regarding self-discipline and the nature of working towards goals.

In my first couple years of high school, I had a dream of attending Stanford, a dream that I felt would carry so much meaning that it would mean the remainder of my life was set. Looking back, I feel that my understanding of life then, was different and, I feel, simpler than what I think it to be now. I think it was foolish to expect one such goal, one whose success is not an effective indicator of effort, growth and learning, and whose impact is arguably limited to the university years of my life.

Since the end of my college acceptances, I’ve certainly come to feel a “Now what?” type of attitude when it comes to my goals. Having accomplished something that seemed (highly?) respectable to me, earlier, it felt deeply unsatisfying to tell myself that--this was it.

Since that same time earlier this year, I feel that I’ve gone through an upsurge in motivated, goal-driven activity. Last year June marked the beginning commitment to my pattern of daily running, which contributed to a daily habit of exercise, when not running.

Early this spring marked the beginning of several large-scale changes in my life prompted by bursts of motivation and the desire to, quite simply, be great. (I also adopted a consciously arrogant view of myself and, not intentionally inflated, but optimistic eagerness for my potential, which I now feel to be a double-edged sword, on account of the “side-effects” that come with arrogance, such as an impairment of social interactions, and perhaps complacency). Such changes included regular logging of my worktime, dedication to an entrepreneurial project related to COVID-19, cultivation of hobbies such as piano-playing and chess, and lately, this writing project, which I hope will take me somewhere.

This combination of goal-driven activity with the maintenance of self-discipline, which presently tends to feel routine, causing my day to feel incomplete without it, and at times annoying, of account of wavering passion, which is at times high, and others low, has culminated in what seems to be measurable progress and improvement in the habits that I practice, such as chess and piano, as well as adaptation, and a reduction in the sense of despair and losing track of progress that possibly could have arisen otherwise.

The last thing I wish to cover is the ways in which this process of self-discipline has been hard for me. I know that it is indeed hard because, if it weren’t, it wouldn’t at times cost me so much effort and resistance to fulfill the action and its necessitation active “doing” wouldn’t cause me to grumble, and at times give in to the lofty goal that I had set for myself. One act of self discipline that I left before forming into a habit was the exercise of holding an hour of silence, for reflection, relaxation, and silence. The activity seemed worthwhile to me, and also felt rewarding in itself, but I suppose the fact that I have left it, and not having thought too much about leaving it, perhaps is an indicator that it is a worthy opponent- a goal of my caliber that is worthy of sacrificing pleasure in search of this deeper sense of meaning. I hope that my endeavor for self-discipline and goal-setting will continue, and that, as Dr. Jordan Peterson says, I will come out a better person tomorrow than I was today.

One thought that has begun to struck me of late is the idea of a life full of fun. In this section, I’ve discussed is the balance that ought to be maintained between discipline and fun. I want to elaborate on what would happen if discipline is taken to the extreme. Now, knowing that humans are goal-driven creatures, and we put in effort with the hope that it will ultimately be met by some reward, I realize that questioning the idea of discipline itself is absurd, since continual self-growth and achievement of increasingly tougher goals cannot be attained without discipline. Nevertheless, I wonder what would happen if the ultimate motive that we strive after is somehow lost--that the goal which we seek is not met at all.

In individuals who have clinical depression, one facet of their personalities that has stuck out to me rather obviously is that their goal-seeking and goal-chasing mentality has gone out of control. They don’t find any pleasure in small rewards, nor do they have a deep sense of gratefulness, nor do they see the value in chasing goals. Resentment, whether a precursor or consequence of this mentality, often seems to accompany their personality. Often, they pursue drastic measures and actions with the hope that it would relieve them of their utter desperation for emotional breath.

So, what about individuals who push themselves too far, to the point where it is evidently unhealthy? If we are to regard food as a pleasure or luxury, it seems obvious that gluttony or overindulgence is damaging to the balance. On the other end of the spectrum, individuals with anorexia, who continually try to lose weight and almost entirely avoid such pleasure are too unhealthy.

But, what about where these two ends meet--somewhere in the middle? The question of how often one can indulge in a chocolate bar while training for a marathon, whether to stay up watching a movie on a weekday or to suppress such desires and sleep, whether to study for an impending test during lunchtime, or to enjoy the period with friends.

Such questions are often highly troubling to me. Furthermore, I’ve observed for myself that, without a policy or some guiding principle to help me make such small-scale decisions, it’s hard for me to move forward. Even in a chess game, when deciding between two candidate moves, and ultimately deciding to move forward with the chosen one simply because a choice must be made, a lingering doubt remains, along with the fear of having left behind a better reward.

I once heard a man give the advice that it is better to be more vigilant and pessimistic in the short term, and optimistic in the long run, so that one can achieve better results. Now, I have trouble deciding whether to follow this advice or not. In general, I tend to doubt my own ideas, as well as the ideas of others, and particluarly any advice. I believe in the idea of wisdom--that the quality and truth of one’s general beliefs about making decisions or encountering difficult paths increases with age and experience. For example, I would trust a chess grandmaster to advise me on my next move, and would trust the logic and reasoning that he applies, since I feel that if I were to adopt similar logic, then I would begin to recognize similar patterns as him, and would thus be able to play a higher quality game.

I also realize that it is possible to follow misleading or untruthful advice. I once watched a video from an International Master in chess, who was playing the Bongcloud Opening in chess. I watched the entire video, and sought to understand the takeaways and general tips he was imparting through the video. By the time I had reached the end of the video, I had heard about 3-4 such general tips, based on the game he had analyzed in front of us, and was curious to adopt similar tips into my own playing. It thus surprised me, then, when I realied that the entire video I had watched was a joke video, and the tips he was sharing were for the purpose of satire. It thus struck me, when I realized that the nature of his tips, such as keeping the king in the center of the board, and his inclusion of logical advice, which I’ve heard before, in misplaced scenarios seemed superficially sound, but could be easily be challenged by another player of strong rating.

What troubled me the most about this event is the fact that had I not checked the comment section, I likely would have not found out that the entire advice I had accepted from the video was misleading advice. I had trusted the content in the video because I believed its creator to be a strong player, and to harbor an abundance of strong playing tips. Along a similar vein, however, I realize that through a similar process, many individuals begin to adopt a questionable or unsound beliefs, such as the idea that life has no purpose, which I feel to be quite popular, or the idea that in society, one’s group identity dictates whether the individual can be termed a victim, an approach which seems fundamentally incorrect and counterproductive to me.

Thus, when it comes down to discipline, as well as the formation of my goals, beliefs, and habits, I should write down my thoughts and beliefs, and question them repeatedly, so as to avoid adopting problematic beliefs and in life, to maintain the balance of freedom and self-discipline.