five days

How can five days go by so quickly? This calls for a discussion of what I'm learning I lack too much of: discipline and resolve.
A couple of years ago, my grandfather gave me a small piece of paper with some advice that his father gave him. "Do not be benevolent" stood out, but let's leave that aside for a moment. “Remember dates, details, and minutia” got me too, as I’ve for so long been so terrible at it. What the hell is the point of remembering little factoids, emotionally void specifics, or painfully descriptive items that distract from the big picture? I still feel that way.
But the note – I don’t have it on me at the moment, and I’m running out of the lines clearest in my head – also demanded that one think through each thought to its end. And it probably – again, I’m falling down on the details – prescribed one living up to promises and being honest.
There’s no replacement for honesty and reliability in this world. Niceness and good intentions will never match it. And one cannot be truly honest or reliable without making sacrifices and choosing discipline over spiritual ease.
But I write this knowing full well that I do lack discipline, and that knowledge is so painful as to be crushing at times. Shame leads too quickly to embarrassment, which leads far far too quickly to inaction.
The discipline I speak of is of the following type:
For example, at a dinner recently, I sat across from my friend’s girlfriend. I had no reason not to ask her the question, “what is your better job?” as she had two and I was quite curious, but probably mostly about one. Afraid of a bored response, I simply occasionally joined in the current conversation.
For a better example, I didn’t know what to do with my niece today. She doesn’t quite trust me yet, as I’ve only been around for a day. But I’d promised to help take care of her. I got up late and did little, simply because of my fear of her fear of me and my fear of her father’s potential unease.
For a more natural example, I play games or write about Bill Richardson instead of doing the work I need to get done. My brother tells me that sometimes people at his store will cut blocks of the more expensive cheese first, thinking they will eventually get around to the parmesan. But what really needs doing is the parmesan, as customers go through it like crazy. He drew this analogy, not me: we have to prioritize the parmesan.
But there is a fundamental problem. In order to improve, I must recognize and understand the root of my mistakes. In doing so I can also recognize whether indeed they are mistakes at all or good decisions with some basis. Yet also by noticing this I can become quite intensely frustrated with my own seeming inabilities. And this frustration can frighten me away from being more bold and disciplined.
Discipline requires boldness. It requires not shying away from a bad reaction or an intensely uncomfortable five minutes. It requires linking an expected result intelligently with a present action and carrying out that action with intense passion. When the goal is so far far away, when it’s uncertain, it’s easy to drop the passion and do something else. We have to be, somehow, passionately involved in cutting parmesan cheese. If we are not, we will continue to fall down.
But this brings me only 60% of the way through my past five days. So shifting gears,
Presents lie under the Christmas tree beside me, and it amazes me that I’ve been terrible at choosing presents. Me, a man so supposedly devoted to the well-being of others. What good are presents, anyway?
Maybe it’s time to bring up the benevolence thing. If one engages the world with only his own well-being in mind, he must eventually realize that hedonism in its simplest sense – pursuing corporal pleasures – has its limits. At least that’s what I’ve been told. I’m so repulsed by the idea in the first place, given the switching off of compassion and thought it must require – and perhaps scared of it as well – that I’ve never tried it.
So instead one would actively engage with the world and do exciting, powerful things regularly regardless of the direct consequence to others. He would make his mark and live powerfully and strongly. He would understand others’ pain but not seek to alleviate it. He would ruthlessly strike down anyone who stood in the way of his goals, given that the act of striking them down did not make him still worse off.
And as I know, compassion, bravery, and honesty make up the best and strongest bridge to this kind of life. That’s fun to imagine in the abstract, but rather tough when faced with a group conversation about disease prevention or architecture.
But the boiling passionate care doesn’t seem to subside, no matter how often I fail it. Something is lit and has been for a little while now. I’ve doused it with money and with pretend knowledge of water policy and with lots and lots and lots of food, but it’s here and I feel it getting stronger.
I’ve channeled it towards people I know. I’ve given people more time and more patience and more respect and more questioning. I’ve channeled it towards a fucking presidential candidate of all things. I’ve yet to channel it towards myself as the prospect both frightens and confuses me.
My presents are meant to challenge as that’s all I think I can really provide. I’ve never wanted to satisfy base urges or to give people what they already know they want. If Christmas is about love, which it should be, I should give challenging gifts in a loving, attention-paying spirit. Gone will be the days now when I mass-buy and decide later. I will choose specifically and with care. Next are the parents’ birthdays and then the brother’s.