Last week, an email from a newsletter I signed up for a while ago unusually piqued my interest. “How to get things done without forcing yourself,” the subject line read. Instead of ignoring it, for some later date which will likely never come, I immediately clicked. I did not realize I would end up revisiting my own relationship with discipline, as well as some other concepts I’ve never taken quite as seriously. 

Discipline is a human quality that for some reason, we as a society talk about much more than other ones. We don’t talk much about human qualities in general—instead of conversations on courage, we have conversations on Instagram content. Instead of connecting over integrity, we connect over our love for brunch. So why do we talk so much about discipline, when human qualities in general are not our focus?

I think discipline is supposedly an integral part of “hustle culture,” made popular via social media, feeding on all of our desire to do, have, and thus be “more.” Our interest and focus on discipline comes from our ego’s incessant wanting, the idea that if we just had more of this thing called discipline, we’d have more of the things we want.

Further, many of us have a contentious relationship with discipline. Some of us lack it, and then hate it because we are averse to it. Those of us who think we have it, worry about being about to hold on to it. Those who hold on to it, struggle with burnout—as if holding on to a piece of burning coal, discipline can do that. Why is our relationship with this human quality so toxic, and what can be done? 

“There certainly must be a meaningful, beneficial way to be disciplined,” I thought to myself as I began to skim the piece, which started with “‘If only you had discipline!’ was a constant refrain I heard growing up. (Thanks, mom.)”¹ For most people, the fear of not achieving—the fear of not doing the thing, the fear of failing, the fear of lacking—fear—is what motivates people to become and stay disciplined. Quite frankly, that is no way to live a good life, even if you are able to stay disciplined that way.

The newsletter went on to say that “maybe ‘discipline’ isn’t even the right word for what I need…discipline means ‘to obey a set of codes or behaviors’ – codes that often don’t work for all people in all circumstances. Instead, I’m drawn to [the] concept of ‘devotion’ – being dedicated to a divine purpose.”²

“It’s hard to tell when to put your foot on the gas pedal,” I told Sade a week or so ago during our weekly friend call. “It seems like there has to be a reason we have that power,” I continued. “…but we shouldn’t have to power through all the time,” she said, nearly reading my thoughts. “We shouldn’t have to use it so often.”

Americans, of which I am included, value hard work, individualism, and taking hold of the steering wheel. Once a German man named Olaf, who I met in the beachside town of Mazunte, admitted to me he likes Americans. “They have this ‘Yeah! we can do it!’ attitude,’” he told me. And perhaps that is true and admirable. 

But is it too much use of this “powering through” tool that we use? Like a part of this discipline we are all disciples to, engaged like an artist’s overused paint color? This may explain why Americans are more burned out, depressed, and anxious than ever before. 

“Devotion,” I thought to myself, as I read it in the newsletter. I mulled over the word. Maybe all this time, I was using this “powering through” type of discipline on things that didn’t need it—even on things that I thought I would like to do, or know I like to do, or mundane things. Why is it so hard for me to get myself to do that one small house task? What if I showed up to the gym as an act of devotion instead of an act of discipline?

But devoted to what? Where is the spark of an idea, or the seed of something new, even born? How do we know what we want? And what causes us to see something one way or another? How do we decide what we devote ourselves to, or do we even really decide? Where do leanings and desires come from?

This was something I was mulling over at the beginning of February. Sufis believe that yearning feeling you feel—that constant need for another slice of pizza, another promotion, another bag, another pair of shoes, another hair style, another cookie—is man’s natural desire for divine communion with God. You are always yearning for the divine, whether you know that or not, this belief dictates. Until you acknowledge that it is about communion with the divine, you will mistake your desire for other things, and constantly be hungry, like a ghost with a stomach that knows no satiety. 

This is all well and good, but at the same time, what causes our particular desires? Why do I like Americanos and not lattes? Certainly there are things we just like. Why does one person like modern art and another person hates it? Why do I like yellow roses while you like pink tulips? Why does my husband love BJJ and not powerlifting? Is this just social conditioning, egoistic whims, random, or nature, or maybe a mix of all?

Maybe these things are trivial, but they still exist as preferences and things which propel us forward, even if as simplistic as reaching for the yellow roses instead of the pink tulips. 

After much thinking, I decided that most likely, our desires as we know them are a mix of all four, social conditioning, egoistic whims, randomness, and nature. And yet, when you peel away social conditioning, chances of randomness, and egoistic whims, there is still something there. I for one love beauty, as many humans do, but the way I see beauty, or the way I find it, may be unique to me. Perhaps my soul simply whispers to me, “yellow roses,” as I peruse a garden. Why is that?

I decided that some of our most inherent desires, the ones that don’t have to do with other people, the ones that don’t allow us to run from our our fears, must come to life from the heart, like a vine that springs from a seed planted in the heart of each individual—and that seed is your soul.. Maybe it is these desires, these pure ones that arise within and don’t feed the ego—maybe these desires are actually divine inspiration.

I rarely think about the things I pursue as desires, which in their nature should be lighthearted and fun. Even as I started learning to sew, something I have wanted to do for as long as I remember, I saw it as a thing I had to do to get what I wanted. I see my desires more as things I have to do to achieve the desired result instead of rejoicing in them. That’s a heavy way to view the world. And because of that, I think it made more sense to usually call upon “discipline” instead of “devotion.” 

But devotion makes a lot of sense.  What if we did things from the lighthearted space of desire, devotion to our hearts, instead of overdoing our ability to power through? Could this simple shift change how we feel about ourselves and our lives? Does it even make sense to call upon discipline for something we genuinely desire from the seat of our soul? Surely devotion shouldn’t be hard to find.

In a way, I have always liked hard things. When I learned about skincare, I gravitated to products with strong active ingredients rather than gentle, moisturizing ones. I read non-fiction exclusively. I prefer weight lifting to yoga. I have seen my spiritual journey as a hero’s journey,  rather than a path home. What if I just picked the easy way—the path where I do things from a place of loving devotion rather than tough discipline? 

Certainly, my desire to do things the hard way comes from a place of wanting to exercise my power, which is what you need to “power through.” So what do you need to exercise devotion?

Love, I realized. The source of real desire comes from a place of love. Not Hallmark, Hollywood blockbuster love, but real love—the one that is built on genuine presence, attention, care, interest. 

In many traditions, the Divine is defined by love. Many Sufi poets define the Divine as the Beloved. In Buddhism, concepts like metta (loving-kindness) are integral to enlightenment. In new age spirituality, the Divine is the universe, a loving force that connects everything. In the Merriam-Webster dictionary, one of the definitions of devotion is “an act of prayer or private worship.” 

By choosing devotion over discipline, we essentially can make whatever act we are doing into a silent prayer towards the Loving Divine Force, allowing one to exist possibly in constant love if every act is done from devotion instead of sheer force, grit, and power. Whoa. 

But then where does discipline come in? When do we actually need to push on the gas pedal? Is that even what discipline is? And then what about other human concepts, like drive, or determination? How do they all relate, and how are they different? 

After doing some research, I found that determination is unyielding commitment to show up and continue despite obstacles. Discipline is structure. You create structures to help you do what you need to do, with the least energy expended possible—so it’s not just “powering through.” Ideally, it’s born from determination if it is based in love, not fear. Discipline should eventually evolve into consistency if based in love, or a sense of obligation if born of fear, in which case the structure will weaken overtime. I think that is the main problem with discipline—it is too easy for it to function from a place of fear.

Drive is force, the energy that drives you forward to focus on your desire. If based in love, it can be balanced and have boundaries, to help you avoid burnout. If it is based in fear, it can become compulsive and balance will be a moving target. 

ChatGPT helped me make this handy chart indicating how each quality morphs depending on whether or not it is grounded in love.

The similarities in some of these words struck me. I figured “de-” must have some sort of meaning. Lately, I have been interested in Arabic roots of words, which are pretty easy to find if you have some command of Arabic, but I had never thought about Latin root words. Clearly, there was a pattern here, so I decided to research it. I was shocked.

In Latin, “de-” usually means “down,” “away,” or “of.”  It generally indicates a movement downards—grounding, essentially.

• Devotion: from devotio, meaning “a solemn vow.” “De-” grounds the “vow”, like a binding down of the heart to something larger.
  
• Determination: from determinare, “to enclose, to set limits, to fix firmly.” “De-” here indicates setting down boundaries or making firm decisions.
  
• Discipline: from disciplina, “instruction, knowledge,” related to discere (“to learn”). Essentially grounding knowledge through repeated practice.

All these “de-” words have to do with rooting down, committing, and setting something firmly in place. These human characteristics, which we need in balance to get anything done, all have to do with being firmly rooted in the ground. It made so much sense. We don’t just need to power through to get things done. We need these human qualities rooted in their love-based forms, to get things done—we need to be grounded.

Curiously, desire has a different root meaning, that is related to grounding, while also differing. Desire comes from Latin “desiderare.” 

• De-: “down from” or “away from” (same as in devotion, determination, etc.)
  
• Sidera: “stars” (plural of sidus, meaning “star, constellation”).
  

Desiderare literally meant “to wish or long for, express a wish to obtain” or “await what the stars will bring.”³ “Sidus” by itself means “heavenly body, star, constellation.”⁴ A longing for the stars. If this does not connect with what we said earlier, about man’s longings actually signifying a natural inclination for communion with the Divine, I don’t know what does. Desire is the great yearning. Whether it’s steeped in love or fear will affect how it shows up for you greatly.

At its root, desire connects you to the earth while also reaching for the sky, at the same time. That means when desire is born of love, I think it should make you into something like a channel. 

If the desire is born from a love, devotion, drive, discipline, and determination should show up through a place of love too, and I can very much see how devoting yourself to any task or purpose can be a divine, aligned, rooted act.

In this case though, discipline isn’t a problem, it’s just that we overly rely on it to help us get things done when what we really need is to do things from a place of love and balance—what we want is to devote ourselves to our soul-inspired desires. What exactly happens when we access these things from fear, when we live from fear? ChatGPT helped me make a handy chart for this too.

It’s funny how fear is the opposite of love isn’t it? You’d think it’s hate, but hate is based in fear.

When fear inspires our actions, everything changes.

This might be good research on what happens when we live a life of love, but what does it mean in practice?

I guess I am going to find out.