Discipline

"Nothing that anyone says will be that important. The great thing is prayer; prayer itself. If you want a life of prayer, the way to get to it is by praying." Thomas Merton

The way it seems to go is this: We want to do something. Whatever it is. I'll use an example. I have learned that it would seem that the key to a more holy, more spiritual, more contemplative life is discipline. The Druids have a saying, "To discipline the body is to feed the spirit." This is actually common to most religious traditions, particularly those that have a contemplative bent to them. So, there. Discipline is key. Okay. So what I do next? I think about discipline and very quickly get nowhere. In the end I have more questions than answers. I go online and look up different monasteries and see what their daily schedule consists of, because that is a disciplined life made real. But then I say, "I'm not a monk." Then I may read several articles on spiritual discipline in the life of the laity. I will read books on the contemplative life. I will talk to my friends about the desire to become more disciplined. And, later, I will say, "I don't even really know what to do" and drop it for six months. The one thing that I never did was begin to discipline myself. The thing I never did was actually start a daily discipline. Even if it didn't work and I had to change it later, it's better than nothing. 

What Merton is saying in the quote above is very often we spend too much time and energy studying prayer, reading books on "how to pray" instead of just praying. We read more books about the bible than we read the bible. It's almost as if we are fearful of actually engaging. If I try to become more disciplined and fail, then I have failed (or so I would think) and my method is open for criticism. If I never move beyond study, well, I can't be criticized because I'm still working. I haven't actually started. In reality, I should do it. I should do it, and if it isn't working adjust, then it isn't failure, but a lesson. The true failure is in never beginning.

One more example, then I'm done: Recently I've been trying to learn Chinese-style brush painting, or in Japanese: Sumi-e. So what did I do? Asked my wife for a brush set for my birthday, to which she replied. "No. This will not be the next pull-up bar or half-built wooden surfboard in the garage." But, she said she'd get them if I finished all the stuff for the Art Show, which I did. Anyway, the point is when I decided I wanted to do the brush painting, the first thing I did was look for a set of brushes, instead of experimenting with what I have. Because I don't have brushes, I don't have to try to paint, it just wouldn't make sense. Next I looked up all sorts of articles on the philosophy behind brush painting. Again, I don't do it because I 'm not sure I fully grasp it. I'm not sure I understand it. Then (still having never picked up a brush) I started watching videos of brush painting to study technique. What I should have doing the whole time was painting. I should have been actually painting and learning at the same time. No matter how many books I read or videos I watch, until I actually pick up a brush, I haven't done anything and I don't know anything.

And the first stroke of the brush, no matter what the line looks like, is worth more than everything I've done to now. The first words of an honest prayer are worth more than all the books and seminars will ever be. Until I make the first stroke, or speak the first word, I haven't actually engaged. Once I'm engaged I become invested and it becomes real. Now I can really move forward and really learn.