Discipline isn’t a virtue. It’s a neurosis.
It’s a way to exist peaceably in fear.It’s superstition rationalized, normalized, sanctioned.
We miss things, details, miracles, being hypnotized by routine. We’re blind to magic, we discard the moment and embrace our lists and ladders. We’re convinced that we don’t know ourselves, like there is something to know. We’re certain that we are sabotaging our lives when there is only the story of sabotage that we observe.
We struggle with our perceived failure to have accepted ourselves, our alleged incapacity for loving ourselves. But the self that we would love is a hologram, an illusion and its purpose is to amuse. It was not meant to last. It was not meant to be known or understood.
When we abide in wonder, we are witness to the whole point of this. When we can laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, we are actualized.