risky business

I am all alone at work today. It is the strangest feeling to walk into an empty office building that is generally bustling with people.

I also don't have much to do. I mean there's a couple of things I could get done, but nothing pressing. Nothing that would take very long. What is the actual point of being here then?

This is the same feeling that I sometimes get when I finally get around to sitting (meditation). Or, even more, when suddenly Mina's gone to bed & I have time on my hands (which seems rare). At home, I wind up finding some way of "passing" this time, watching a movie or some silly thing on tv or on the indiebride message boards (as a result of planning a wedding). It's a total time suck. Sometimes, yes, I am doing constructive things like planning Artifact's readings & so on. But in any case, all of a sudden an hour has gone by or two or three. BC is better, he reads & so on (don't get me wrong, he watches tv too), but he's better at being disciplined. I guess what I'm saying is that instead of doing these time-sucking things, I should be doing something worthwhile, like writing or reading, or sitting, or doing yoga, you know something that will have a positive effect, right?

I've been thinking about this idea of discipline a lot lately. It comes up a lot in Dharma books & teachings, in yoga, & of course, in writing. One has to have discipline to practice, whatever that practice is. What is behind the discipline varies from person to person. We were talking a couple nights ago about a writer who is very ambitious to get their books published & seemingly to have as many out there as possible. Is this a good thing? Is it only good if the books are good? Sometimes the pieces or lines are kind of flat, so does the sheer quantity make up for the lack of consistency in quality? In any case, good or bad, does doing the thing constantly point to discipline? Or does it matter if one's doing it because one wants to be known after one dies? If choosing to sit every day for an hour (which I don't) can be seen as "good" practice, whereas not sitting can be seen as "poor" practice. But if you're sitting because you want to be "better" or prove that you're good, or even worse, to use it as a way to show other people that you're better than them, then it destroys the whole thing. Or does it? Maybe eventually, there's a realization during all that sitting--that the reason you first sat down on the cushion has nothing to do with sitting on the cushion. Does that happen in writing? I'm not sure it does, since quantity of books doesn't seem to make one any humbler.

Of course, what happens to a person who avoids having any sort of practice? There seems to be an unhinging effect. I guess, I'm thinking of practice (any one will do) as a lens through which to see or experience the world. I remember my mother telling me when I was young to find my "niche." That can be good or bad advice, depending if you cling to your niche & hold it as some sort of identity placeholder or let it just be what it is, a lens (one of many possible ones). It really comes down to how flexible one is, in light of how easily stuck one can become. It's terrifying to face open, empty space, obviously since generally the first inclination is to fill it up. And you can use anything to do that.

I suppose it just comes down to making a choice & constantly making that same choice through to the end. Because at any moment, you could change your mind, get up, put down the book, walk away from the computer, etc. but something has to keep you there on the spot. What is it? That's a genuine question. What exactly is it?