Jonathanjbrown

What's with all the negativity around discipline? The word pops up and most of us travel back to the days we were coming up. In those days, we messed up and were disciplined for it. Dang, am I in trouble again? Let's get the hell out of here and switch to the other connotation of the word: to have discipline or be a disciplined person. Ok, that's better. You fu&* up, Timmy! When I tell people of my 365 days of yoga in a row, or the number of hours I write in a day, or that I workout 7 days a week, with or without cancer in these bones, they'll often say, "wow, you are so disciplined." The truth is...not really. Let's say peanut butter and jam sandwiches are your "jam." If you ate a PB&J sandwich every single day, you probably wouldn't feel like a disciplined person. Still, your sandwich eating would be pretty darn maintainable. Why? Because PB&J sandies are awesome. You love the sh%# out of them—no discipline required to choke t...

 When I was coming up in the 1970's, I had to take piano lessons. Lots of kids did. Or at least some other instrument. A good education was at the top and beneath, was learning an instrument. It's what our parents' generation believed. I was on board with it...to a point. I loved music. I loved the piano. Problem was, I was horrible. No natural talent and picking it up under great tutelage...uh, still, no such luck. And I had great teacher. Mrs. Tickner. She was so sweet and incredibly patient. I was about 10 when I started. Fridays after school I'd head to her place on my bike. She'd greet me with the kindest smile. A small plate with two cookies, usually peanut butter, and an 8 ounce glass of milk would always await my arrival—sitting just so on the ledge to the right of the piano. She'd ask me how my school day went. I'd tell her everything in great, slow detail in the hopes she'd be so enthralled, she'd forget I was there for a lesson. My play at...