The Art of Discipline
Finding Balance as an Artist. Awareness. Self-control. Softness.
— With 35mm Film Photos
shot between Italy & Portugal
Both in Italian, and English, the term discipline conveys a concept of the control of one’s emotions, adherence and commitment to a code of rules, even sacrifice and punishment. Discipline can be perceived as negative, as a constriction.
Personally, I often find comfort in discipline, it is what I know and what often brings me back to myself. And yet on this journey into my creative self through photography and writing, I have often asked myself … How much discipline is the right amount? What code of rules must one adhere to? Who makes the rules? How can you push yourself to be better — a better version of yourself — to achieve your goals, and at the same time accept yourself for who you are right now?
How can you push yourself to be better
and at the same time accept yourself
for who you are right now?
I was raised by my grandparents. Most would define the way my grandmother raised me — and her children before me — as strict. And yet it is difficult, even now, to say where the line between education and rigidity lies, and to untangle my personal code of rules from hers.
As a child, and then a teenager, I often felt like discipline was being imposed on me, that I was following a code of rules I had not created or chosen, and with which most of the time I didn’t agree — like most of us. It gave me a great sense of guilt, internal conflict, and caused a lot of yelling and arguing with my grandmother.
Like most of us, I learnt to fight for what I believed was right. I rebelled. Escaped. Broke all the rules. To a point where living at home was impossible. To a point where I crossed lines I did not want to cross.
But now I know, I was exploring. I was exploring who I really was. And all the times I came back to myself it was through the discipline I knew so well.
Even when I started to dream of being an artist, discipline came in helpful. Discipline became a tool. In trying to mould my own code of rules, I finally came to see how discipline could help me choose my values.
And all the times I came back to myself
it was through the discipline I knew so well.
I am still choosing, and sometimes it is hard to discern what speaks to me as an individual and what comes from the way I was raised and what society tells us to be. Even if it often came at the cost of love and kindness to myself, the “strict” rules I was given helped me understand the value of self discipline and resilience.
The thing is, my grandmother could not have taught me how to use discipline for personal, let alone creative, realisation. She didn't have the chance to put her self control and willpower to the service of her own dreams. She came to realise quite early in life that something was wrong with the society she lived in.
Society told her that, because she did not have a father she was less than the others, that because her mother (a theatre actress) was unconventional she had to pay the price for it, and finally that, because she was a woman, the rules for her were different. That awareness was painful, but it gave her strength, and she was able to push through as best as she could, despite having to adapt to rules she did not believe in.
She could not go to high school but found time for evening school later in life and then studied typewriting, subsequently finding a job in an office. She got married but had to leave the job to raise her first child. She held the house together and took care of the accounting, feeding a family of five on one salary, scraping money together for holidays.
She was precise and meticulous. It must have been exhausting to constantly take care of everyone and everything, but it was her way of maintaining control. Times were different, and it was not easy for a woman to be independent, let alone to follow her dreams. She always told me to be independent.
She could not put her discipline at the service of self-realisation, and yet I believe discipline saved her. She surely had regrets, especially in her later years, and yet she raised three children and a niece. She took care of my grandfather and she was a rock … until she wasn’t.
The strict rules I was given
helped me understand the value
of self discipline and resilience.
Even though she had not been fully there for a number of years already, when she died, I felt like I had lost the ground under my feet. She was my family, my foundation. Even in going against her she defined me — at times she didn’t understand me, but she always supported me just by being there. No matter what.
“If I wake up in the night and cannot sleep can I wake you up grandma? Will you read to me?“
“Of course Francesca, I am here next to you.”
After she was gone, I was able to fill the void by thinking about how those rules helped me to be determined and consistent, and where they had become constrictive and clipped my wings, harming my self confidence.
Maybe the right amount of discipline is measured in the ability to let go.
How much discipline is keeping us balanced and stable through the winds of our own emotions and how much more is keeping us too still and rigid, unable to soften and flow? What does it mean to soften?
Maybe the right amount
of discipline is measured
in the ability to let go.
I remember studying stoicism in school and getting a completely different message to the one I understand now. I was so fixated with feelings and I was utterly afraid of not feeling anything ever. I thought feelings and emotions were the answer to my rigidity and my, sometimes, lack of joy.
I thought I could only let go when overwhelmed by emotion.
In a way it was true, it happened like that for me. For a long time. Until it broke me. It broke my heart and made me lose myself.
I came back stronger, for sure, but it still took me a long time to realise that bliss and softness are, for me, often to be found in quiet, in silence, in daily rituals, in water, in nature, ultimately, in small things … the quiet beauty of small things.
Bliss and softness are to be found
in quiet, in silence,
in water, in nature,
in daily rituals, in small things
… the quiet beauty of small things.
Marco Aurelio and stoicism came back into my life through mindfulness and meditation. And I finally understood that control over our emotions is not obtained by suppressing our essence, on the contrary, it comes from a deep seated self awareness, awareness that we are not our emotions and we don’t have to let them cloud our inner balance.
If the flood carries you away, let it take your flesh, your breath, all else — but it will not carry away your mind.
[12.14. Meditations, Marcus Aurelius]
The balance is there, we are there, in the water, whether in the depth of it or on the agitated surface, whether floating face up to the sun or swimming against the current.
It’s up to us to let emotions have their way and make us believe we are lost.
Or to stay in contact with our true self.
It’s up to us to let emotions have their way
and make us believe we are lost.
Or to stay in contact with our true self.
Today, I can say I’ve learnt the real value of what my grandmother taught me. I can better grasp what she meant when she told me to be independent and to look after myself. I am doing well grandma, don’t worry.
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Note
I came to think about this topic inspired by a discussion I had with two talented friends, Alina (AMAVI Coaching) and Chrischa (The Sensual Journal & Team Bomdia – Instagram). This note to thank them for the inspiring discussions and the opportunity for connection offered in these strange times…