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That’s the thing about discipline: It never fails us, but sometimes we fail it.
The body wants what it wants now . . . it can deal with the consequences later. We have to be smart and self-controlled and self-aware enough to intervene before that happens.
“Remember to conduct yourself in life as if at a banquet,”
“by the standard of pleasure, nothing is more pleasant than self-control and . . . nothing is more painful than lack of self-control.”
Seek yourself, not distraction. Be happy, not hedonistic. Let the mind rule, not the body.
Beyond refusing the apology, he declined to carry a grudge too.
when we are offended, when we fight, we are complicit. We have chosen to engage. We have traded self-control for self-indulgence. We’ve allowed our cooler head to turn hot—even though we know hot heads rarely make good decisions.
Sometimes it’s a moment of arrogance or excitement. Or anger. Or anxiety. Or avarice. Or envy.
whether it be personal or professional or historical—have one thing in common: Somebody lost control of their emotions. Somebody got carried away. Somebody was scared, or defensive. Somebody wasn’t thinking beyond the next few seconds.[*]
If you cannot rein in your impulses now, if you can be jerked like a puppet today, how do you think it will go when you reach the level you aspire to? When you have power, when you have people willing to make excuses for you, when you have resources? And, too, when the margin for error is also much smaller?
You can get angry . . . the important thing is not to do anything out of anger.
And of one famous Spartan it was said that it was impossible to “find a man who knew more but spoke less.”
Robert Greene puts it perfectly: “Powerful people impress and intimidate by saying less.”
You don’t have to verbalize every thought. You don’t have to always give your opinion—especially when it’s not solicited.
To be imprecise with language, to fall prey to what they now call “semantic creep”—exaggerating and misusing important words until they have no meaning—this is the mark of not just a sloppy thinker but a bad temperament.
In life, in war, in business, we often only get one moment, one opportunity. Nobody is going to give you a do-over.
The poet Juvenal remarked that the whole world had not been big enough to contain Alexander . . . but in the end, a coffin was sufficient.
If money provides freedom or leverage, then great. If it becomes an addiction or a disorder—or worse, a distraction—not so great. Like any powerful tools, money also has its dangers and must be wielded safely and consciously (and is not for the weak-minded).
“Fuck-you money” is a chimera. You never get it. Nobody does. Poor people have poor-people problems and rich people have rich-people problems because people always have problems.
It’s a beautiful irony: You’re never content with your progress and yet, you’re always content . . . because you’re making progress.
It doesn’t make sense to try to do everything yourself. You have to delegate. You have to find people who are good at things and empower them to help you.
Most happy people don’t need you to know how happy they are—they aren’t thinking about you at all. Everyone is going through something, but some people choose not to vomit their issues on everyone else. The strongest people are self-contained. They keep themselves in check. They keep their business where it belongs . . . their business.
Oersharing is not discipline
Be the adult in a world of emotional children.
You don’t have to end up number one in your class. Or win everything, every time. In fact, not winning is not particularly important. What does matter is that you gave everything, because anything less is to cheat the gift.
Leave the rest to the scoreboard, to the judges, to the gods, to fate, to the critics.
We have to consciously, considerately, constantly check in, check ourselves, check our impulses.
When he lusted after something, he stopped himself, turning those desires to stone before they burned through him and he did something he’d regret.
In a sense, that’s what temperance is: self-sufficiency. Purpose. Clarity. Power.
Not everyone has trained like you have. Not everyone has the knowledge you have. Not everyone has the willpower or the commitment you have. Not everyone signed up for this kind of life either!
Grace under pressure.
It’s holding back the most natural and understandable and forgivable feelings in the world: taking it personally. Running away. Breaking down. Locking up with fear. Celebrating with joy. Cursing in anger. Exacting retribution.
We can swallow our pain, as Pastor had to. We can gather ourselves up as Marcus did, as the Queen did over and over again.
With a friend, we are able to remain calm. We are able to reassure. We give advice, not admonishments.
It’s who you choose to become. Or who you choose to remain.
The thing about marriage, about relationships, about putting ourselves up and out there in public is that they open us up to being hurt. They make us vulnerable.
The same goes for the causes we have committed to. We’ll fall short of them and have to get back up. Our commitment will be tested beyond comprehension. We’ll be asked to sacrifice . . . and then sacrifice some more.
At the same time, there are others who refuse to give up, thinking that this stubbornness is a virtue. But it, too, is a vice.
A person who doesn’t know how to disengage, to cut their losses, or to extricate themselves is a vulnerable person. A person who does not know how to lose will still lose . . . only more painfully so.
Hope is important but it is not a strategy. Denial is not the same thing as determination. Delusion is destruction. Greed will get you in the end.
Can you put your ego aside and accept defeat—or irreconcilable differences? Can you walk away when it’s time? Even when it’s so tempting not to? Can you keep it together even as everything is falling apart—when all eyes are watching, waiting, for you to fall apart alongside it?
Retreats, we must remember, are only temporary. They are buying us time until we can take the offensive and courageously attack again in pursuit of our victory.
Life is not fair. It is not kind. It demands from us not just a strength of body and mind but also of soul—what the ancients called karteria, or perseverance. Otherwise, we could not bear to soldier on. We could not survive the blows of fate, the ones intended to discourage us, to make us quit on ourselves and abandon our wits, our principles, our philosophy.
“among other things, the capacity for quiet, uncomplaining suffering, the ability to take it and never to let on, never to let the world suspect you are taking it.”
Think of the mothers who pushed through postpartum. Think of the people who fought through cancer, through bankruptcy, through humiliating failure. Think of the addicts who battled withdrawals to bounce back from rock bottom.
Because one day, you will look back from the other side of this struggle . . . and be glad you did.
that it is not the office that brings distinction to the man, it is the man who brings distinction to the office.
This is what you find when you study the true masters of any profession. They don’t care much about winning, about money, about fame, about most of the things that have come their way as a result of their success. Their journey has always been toward something bigger.
Self-discipline has never been about punishment or deprivation. It is about becoming the best, the best that you are capable of becoming.
Whoever makes his journey to a tyrant’s court. Becomes his slave, although he went there a free man.
History is replete with great conquerors. There are far fewer generals who were great people. Talented writers, groundbreaking scientists, incredible athletes, bold entrepreneurs—all these types are rare.
