discipline as care, care as discipline
Two weeks off rhythm and I am feeling the effects — cranky, short-tempered, in need of soothing and a warm bath and someone to tuck me in at night. I love the spontaneity of long hours on the road, the time to celebrate the darkest night with Diwali lights, but even more so I love the homecoming, the ritual of an emptied suitcase, three loads of laundry, a long and energizing to-do list, a return to daily discipline.
I used to think of discipline as unforgiving — you haven’t finished, you should really stop scrolling, you can’t take a break yet — the shoulds and the can’ts and the don’t you dares. Lately, I’ve started to consider devotion instead. I’m noticing that caring for myself requires some of the strongest and most gentle discipline I can muster. I know you’re tired; let’s take just one more step. I know you’re hungry; let’s peel an orange. I know you’re sad; maybe we need to cry. Rest isn’t always easy, or easeful, but discipline can be.
A practice of care can be as simple as a glass of water, a few minutes to stretch, a delicious moment of nourishing yourself or someone you love, a reminder to stay present on this earth. Sometimes it’s speaking up, sometimes maintaining silence. It can be removing yourself from a situation that causes pain, or it can be staying put and committing to make it better. Mostly, it’s the devotion to our own intuition — to cultivating a practice of turning inwards, tending to an inner garden plot — giving ourselves the gift of meeting our own needs.
a few medicines, or how to take care:
the art of amends, and Beethoven.
become an abortion case manager, or learn how to support someone getting an abortion.
diversity fatigue and its antidotes.
apply to the HeArt of Black Leadership, by and for Black leaders to come together in community.
a special edition on sex work and disability.
an affirmation, when we sing the blues.
have you made a plan yet to vote?
until next time.