A good student will embrace the opportunity to surpass their teacher. A good teacher will welcome the chance to become their pupil. As this cycle perpetuates, I think the dogmatic labels of “teacher” and “student” will fall away, and the two will simply see each other as good friends. (Which is why I think Buddha said he would reincarnate as “maitreya,” or friend)
“Brought low by a lack of discipline, audacity, strategic thinking, or any combination of the aforementioned qualities.”
I’ve lived that story countless times, and do my best to avoid doing so again, because the ending SUCKS.
Most people who ask me about writing seem to think that the workload is the hard part, but I disagree; the hard part is being so damn honest with myself it feels like I’m being eviscerated, then putting that part of me onto the page for all the world to judge. When I do this properly, I can write in any environment for hours on end. The words just bubble up from within and arrange themselves on the page.
Being screwed over isn’t an excuse to stop trying; it’s a reason to become more cunning and vigilant.
If you assume you’re talented, and do your best to refine that talent into something great, (even though there’s no immediate reward or applause), that’s courage.
After an honest effort, if you examine yourself with ruthless candor and make a forthright assessment about whether your talent is real or it lies somewhere else, that leads to wisdom.
There are points where “good” things can become a waste of energy…then counterproductive…and then toxic. Being vigilant and navigating these points with fluid awareness and evidence-based assessment is an integral skill within the art of life.
When you’re truly ready, “The Teacher” doesn’t appear and gift you with answers, you simply realize that everything’s been teaching you all along.
Those who cling to old paths—routes that were once been useful but have rotted into decrepit, treacherous labyrinths—are destined to bleat a sad siren’s song, pleading with others to follow them into obsolescence, even as they become increasingly ensnared in their own ignorance.
I prefer to blaze my own trail by using a pair of time-honored compasses: discipline and critical thought.
“Respect the enemy” is a maxim I only learned to apply to myself after a massive amount of failure. My ego uses every anecdote, every feeling and intuition, every convoluted rationale to justify self-indulgent/self-destructive actions. It was only when I finally learned to respect my ego’s ingenuity and persistence that I was able to acknowledge it as a worthy piece of me, and in my best instances, do what a masterful opponent does with all its adversaries: [cajole/force/intimidate/lure/etc.] it into working for me.
When I can’t fix a solvable problem that I don’t have the resources/capability to address, I’ll take advantage of my competitive psychology by viewing it as a game with increasingly difficult milestones. That way, I stand a chance at turning a monumental obstacle into a small nuisance, then into an easy habit.
In my experience, the astute employment of strategy and conditioning can bring daunting goals into the realm of possibility.
Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha 