I’m sitting in my house under self-imposed quarentine, having been sick for the entire month of March and committed to not doing a goddamn thing until I’m 100%. Being sick for a solid month’s obviously annoying, and for me unusual, so I’m taking this opportunity to turn the microscope inward and see what needs improving. In being Woody Allen-level frail these past few weeks, what’re my body and mind trying to tell me?

I’m reflecting on my tendancy to work myself into an unproductive heap of uselessness. Like I mentioned in a previous post, obsession for me’s an ill-fitting pair of trousers. Rather than inspiring me to greater artistic heights and Mt Olympus levels of desireability to the opposite sex, I’m typically reduced to a weeping shell of a man, about as creativly mertititious as a particularly uninpsired banana slug. But what I am intrigued by, and what seems to work for me, is compassionate disclipine, and today I’m thinking about sticking to one’s schedule, even in small ways.

This ressonates especially while sick. Don’t have enough time (or aren’t well enough) to do a full workout? Take a walk. Don’t have enough time to write an article? Write a paragraph. Don’t have enought time to do yoga? Take ten seconds to breath. Individually, these each feel pretty insignificant, but it’s the cumulative impact of always sticking to your schedule that carry’s one over into long-term success. And, in my current state, there’s still plenty of time and energy left over for sleeping, binging Futurama and making Greg’s chicken soup (recipe to be shared in a future post).

Life happens, but find a way to stick to your schedule, no matter how humble.