while walking

I have tried to be many things in my life, yet disciplined is not one of those things that I have achieved. I recalled recently a list I created when I was 18. It was supposed to be my morning routine. I worked as a music teacher as well as working a late shift at the Boys and Girls Club and felt that waking up "early" was important for personal time and well-being. What I had done to appeal to my senses was draw, yes illustrate, my alarm clock with a flashing "8:00 am". This was supposed to give me enough time to perform my complete list of disciplines before heading off in the early afternoon to guide little ones thru the design of music and then off again to supervise other little ones as they played with scissors and billiard sticks. Yet, I contain the talent known to many as Procrastination. This talent is in direct opposition to Discipline. I could not, for anything, get out of bed before 9am. Could not. Most often I'd be pushing it to 9:45, 10:00. This always left me rushing to get that list finished, or rather, rushing to leave everything as it was.

I'm a stacker. When I was in school, I would take all of my homework and projects and research papers and stack up all of the books in front of me so that I could stare at my huge pile of work to do and fall into depression just before trying to write my speech on Productive Perspectives for Mrs. Frisk's class. Not productive. I would do it on purpose thinking that it would jump-start me into a fury of amazingness, high grades and happy looks from my parents and teachers.

The stacking, the list of daily tasks, the white board up on my wall right now that's supposed to encourage me with check-marks when I've completed my day's duties... these all are supposed to grant me discipline... and always, these things intimidate me to inactivity. What I should have written for my speech was something titled "I Just Peed My Pants in Panic, a Biography."

I currently have an early morning routine that I would love to stick to. Basically, I get up, eat breakfast, chew my chewable vitamin, grab my iPod and go for a walk in the morning. The walk is multi-purposed: limber up before morning yoga (if you've ever tried to do yoga after sleeping all night, down-dog is the meanest most torturous form of waking up ever), get my vitamin D from the sun (because chewables can't provide all of natures goodness), say hello to the world of West Hollywood and think my thoughts. I cannot tell you how many issues I work out in my head while hearing Chris Martin croon in my ears. 

It was on such a morning walk that I realized my disability in discipline was all in my head, not in the list or written on the wall. I always say that we have been given the tools to achieve anything, yet I never applied any of the proper tools. Intimidation is a tool, useful when working for the mob. Intimidation obviously makes me pee my pants.

What I had previously considered as a tool of discipline was actually equivalent to Michael Scott carbo loading on an huge dish of Fettuccine Alfredo moments before starting a 5k Fun Run. The Office. Always good for life lessons. The obvious: apply the wrong technique, end up with the wrong result. The morning routine that I had just started applying for the more selfish reasons of enjoying the early morning sunshine and a few moments to myself with some good music was completely outside of any stack of stuff to do, any check-board or any pictorial lists that I could conjure up. The result is that thing that I had, for all these years, been unable to achieve - discipline. However, I call it by another name: "Get up early, eat some breakfast, chew my chewable vitamin, grab my iPod and go for a walk."

What it is is that we tend to give labels to things we want, things we struggle with, things we can't attain, goals, dreams, whatever. What we should be doing is just that... doing. Acting. Living. It is in simply doing what I know is right that I achieve greatness. It is in encouraging others to do what is right that they achieve greatness. It is in doing what is right that we will change the world. 

while sitting at a cafe

Have you ever taken the time to just sit and observe the social activity around you? 

I think society should affect us, make us take a reflective moment and hear what our surroundings are saying and then what we are supposed to do with our new-found information.

So often I feel as though I am walking through social happenings, playing the part of a non-speaking role, not seeing or participating.

Here I sit, overhearing a conversation behind me in which the person speaking never stops talking, therefore never listens, never actually participates in that conversation. I know that sounds inaccurate, that he's talking and therefore he is active. However, he is not affected. He is not allowing the person the space to influence him.

I also observe from my seat that the Beat Generation is not dead. Running past me was a 20-something guy, with his unlaced leather boots, tapered tight black pants shoved into his burnt red scrunch socks and that certain hat that only a beatnik would wear.  He was running back with some money to buy a book of original poetry from a bearded gentleman wearing a forlorn look. 

How am I affected by this situation I am in? Do I look at it and appreciate its uniqueness? I won't lie. I am completely distracted by loud Mr. Talker guy behind me, but he is also part of the landscape I have found myself in. I decided to sit here and be inspired.

A) Never give up.

We've heard this so many times - Nike in the 90's just wanted us to do it, Diesel promised successful living with their clothes and Honda apparently held the power of dreams. But how does one continue pursuing something when the world distracts us from our passions? Take the older gentleman selling his poetry. It is something he loves, you can tell. I had walked past him on the other side of the street. He was sitting on a bench and his very low almost muffled "Poetry?" barely caught my ear as I walked past the books displayed in his hand. I wondered, as I saw him again on this side of the street, leaning against a tree waiting for the beatnik kid to come back, how many times he went to wherever it was he considered his home to fill the pages of some journal with more rhymes. Does he live alone? And what kind of determination does it take to come here or there just to sell one or two books of his thoughts in verse?

B) Stay creative.

As I look at Beatnik Kid, I so want to see something of myself in him. I love that he not only bought a book of poetry by some unknown guy, but he ran, literally, to the ATM and back to support the unknown art. I love the very faintest of smiles that was brought to the face of the Gentleman Poet, so slight underneath that beard that you almost didn't recognize it as a smile. I love that Beatnik Kid is who he is, probably fights for his uniqueness. I wanted to get to know him, if only to find out where he bought his hat.

C) Take the time to shut the heck up.

Don't get me wrong, Mr. Talker guy had some words of hard-earned wisdom, but I was so frustrated by his lack of consideration that I stopped hearing his words. This, I felt, was probably happening to the listener on the other end of the phone conversation. Sometimes I feel that we just love the sound of our own voices so much, or we are too insecure to hear others say we may have faults, that we just don't shut up. There were plenty of great words spoken, but just imagine if the questions he asked were of a genuine curiosity of the other persons answer and not of a rhetorical nature? He would then listen, be affected, gather correct information and then, encourage, exhort or simply... agree. 

Imagine if we stopped talking and started acting? And really, how dare I just sit and observe when I could be a part of any one of these lives and be affected by them... oh, and motivate them to continue on in greatness. I don't know if Mr. Talker would listen long enough, but there's nothing wrong with being a sneaky encourager.