discipline = devotion
devotion to your rituals and practices.
devotion to what fuels your soul.
devotion to what keeps you tethered to your spirit.
I love the way my dad talks to strangers. I love he way he likes to meet new people and is unafraid to ask questions. His curiosity inspires me. I love the way my mom thinks of everybody else before herself. I love the way she goes above and beyond to put a smile on someone’s face. Her generosity inspires me. I love the way my brother hugs me tightly. I love the way he is not ashamed to show affection. His warmth inspires me. I love the way my sister stands up for herself. I love the way she affirms her point of view and speaks her truth. Her authenticity inspires me. I love the way my grandma still acts like she is 20. I love the way she does not let age define her. Her radiance inspires me. I love the way my grandpa makes me laugh. I love the way he makes little silly jokes. His lightheartedness inspires me. I love the way my cousin is so calm. I love the way he is grounded and does not let anything shake him. His peacefulness inspires me. I love the way my aunt is so carefree. I love the way she doesn’t give a fuck about anything. Her freedom inspires me. I love the way my teacher is so passionate about his students. I love the way he treats me as a friend and gives me his honest opinion. His deep care and love for others inspires me. I love the way strangers awkwardly walk past each other on the street. I love the way some of them smile at each other, some ignore, some flirt, some judge. Their humanness and individuality inspires me. I love the way I romanticize my life and find the light in the darkness. I love the way i search for the beauty and magic in every moment. I love the way that I let my pain inspire me instead of harden me. I love my sensitivity and vulnerability. My softness inspires me.
Thank you to myself. Thank you for continuing to show up, even when things are hard, especially, when things get hard. Thank you for moving forward and holding on to hope, despite all the pain and hardship. Thank you for never giving up on yourself.
Using beautiful and forlorn vocabulary to narrate your own self destruction does not change the fact that you are destroying yourself. We are not privileged to exist in well-lit vignettes framed by cinematographers or paragraphs composed for the undulation of their prose, instead we must navigate a space that is boring and gross and sweaty and expensive and whole. I used to sit in front of therapists and councillors and friends, recounting my struggles and pains for the sole purpose of impressing them with my self-awareness. I could self-psychoanalyse, I could dig down to the root of my problem and explain it with sharp prose and dry wit, I could explain exactly what I was doing wrong and what the solution was. I could do anything except feel my own feelings for what they were, rather than as reference points for some future self-reflection I imagined having.
prioritize being over doing.
live poetically not just productively.
experience life through the senses not only through the mind.