How to Let Go of Your Ego: Discipline is Freedom is Flow
Essays to a Younger Sibling (#4/52)
During the pandemic, I stumbled upon one of my favorite books of all time: Extreme Ownership: How U.S. Navy SEALS Lead and Win.
For reference, this book was co-written by Jocko Willink, a legendary figure in the world of Special Operations. Jocko enlisted in the Navy after high school and was a part of the SEAL Teams for 20 years, first as an operator, then an officer. Not only does this book detail courageous stories from Willink’s tour in Iraq and an inside look into how SEAL Task Unit Bruiser operated, the text also shares fascinating philosophies about leadership, self-development and motivation.
I absolutely loved the book — so much so, that I read it again this year.
One of my favorite concepts from the text is how Willink flips the paradigm regarding the objective of hard work by arguing that “although discipline demands control and asceticism, it actually results in freedom.”
While this might seem contradictory at first, the truth is that practicing those daily habits will inevitably help generate more time, money and energy for yourself. This is by no means simple, easy or painless, but if you have the self-discipline to wake up early, you can and will find yourself with an extra hour in the morning to read, write or exercise. Similarly, if you have the discipline to save a portion of your income each week, then it’s inevitable that after some months, you’ll find yourself with enough cash for a vacation, home or present for a loved one. And finally, if you’re able to practice something like daily meditation or prayer, this will gradually improve your peace of mind and emotional resilience as you identify and navigate negative emotions which inevitably rise up.
Much has been written about this topic and idea, but today I wanted to add two more concepts to the mix: self-actualization and flow.
In my mind, discipline is not only freedom, it’s a gateway for us to achieve self-actualization while simultaneously finding and losing ourselves to the natural bliss that comes with flow.
For some readers who have never heard of these terms before terms before:
- Self-actualization is defined as the realization and fulfillment of one’s potential.
- The Flow State (sometimes referred to as “being in the zone”) is the mental state in which one person performing an activity is fully immersed in a feeling of enjoyment and energized focus.
My Relationship with Flow
I started playing classical piano at age five. In the beginning, I loved being showered with praise as I progressed, but after a year or two I quickly grew frustrated at the instrument, especially when I realized I could be playing Pokémon Emerald or Super Mario Galaxy instead.
Looking back, I realize that my connection to the instrument was, like most kids, largely driven by pride. As I played more advanced pieces with better skill, my teachers and friends praised me, and like any young artist, these compliments became attached to my self-worth. And so for those first few years, I played for them, and rarely, if ever, for myself.
When I was thirteen, I started a new hobby in high school: breakdancing, or as the real hip-hop heads call it, “b-boying.” Here, again, I found myself lauded by my peers for being able to hit difficult combos, stick freezes and even perform a power move or two. In fact, the whole reason I started breaking was because I watched Step Up 2, and fell in love with this scene where Moose has this water-dance-battle.
I was awestruck by the performance and wanted others to react the same way to how I moved one day. In other words, though it was a radically different art form, I discovered yet again that my performance fed my ego and my ego fed my performance.
While there is nothing wrong with starting an activity and taking pride in progress (in fact, I think that this is essential for people just beginning a new art form) I do wish someone had told me very clearly that this practice I was cultivating would allow me to construct my own portal into a new dimension, one where I could be alone, but also free and whole, a sanctuary I could escape to and access upon will.
I know some of you may be thinking that what you just read was a bit too flowery, or even perhaps outlandish, but let me follow up upon my previous claim by telling you a strange story which happened while I was in high school.
We often hear of music and art as an escape, but what exactly does that mean?
During my most stressful semesters at Phillips Exeter Academy, my junior spring and senior winter, I regularly found myself drifting towards the music building. While part of the reason I was still motivated to play piano was because I’d resolved to perform a one hour concert during my senior spring, there was another reason that pulled me to those practice rooms, even when I was running on 5–6 hours of sleep, even when I knew I’d probably take a nap halfway through practice to recharge.
I didn’t love all the pieces I played, or even all the parts of the pieces I played for that matter, but there was this one section in Chopin’s First Ballade in G minor that I had practiced hundreds of time, that sequence with simple whole notes in sotto voce.
Sometimes, when I played that section, I imagined the past: fishing with my father, or patting my golden retriever’s belly, or my first kiss after an ice cream date by the Exeter river.
Sometimes, I visualized the future: graduating and holding my diploma high in the air. Getting married and witnessing the birth of my first child.
There are countless other ephemeral images, many of which I have already forgotten, but no matter what I really pictured in my mind’s eye, I felt fuller and more spiritually nourished, even though it took time and focus and I was exhausted.
I remember starting so many of my practices with that one sequence, and sometimes I’d use that momentum to propel me towards the more challenging aspects of practice. But other times, I just played for those five minutes and it was enough and I left.
Conclusion
I stopped playing classical piano when I was 17. I regret it.
I am happy that I’ve held onto breakdancing though, for after editing college essays or teaching writing for 8–10 hours on a Saturday or Sunday, I find myself unwinding and energizing by moving through the choreography of an old set, or plunging into the freedom of a power move combo I have performed hundreds of times before.
Other times, I do not seep into the familiar, but rather, I try a new move, a new sequence, a new transition that I’ve never considered before, and that too, is liberating. The discipline of creation and drilling has endowed me with benefits I never could have imagined as a young teenager. I can now dance without thinking, and I can dance as I think too, if I choose.
Takeaway
While so many times, we view discipline as a necessary evil in order to achieve some outward goal, like the ideal physique or widespread recognition for our art, I’ve come to realize that real discipline results in freedom from ourselves, from our very egos.
The very process of discipline can also, in my experience, be inherently freeing, for it is when we let go of obsessing over what we do and how we do it, that we can truly just be.
I hope you enjoyed this essay! It was definitely my most personal one so far. If you liked it, I’d really appreciate a kind comment or even sharing this with someone you think would appreciate this story. I plan to continue writing one essay a week throughout the course of 2023.
Yours,
Kevin Zhen
This essay is dedicated to my mother, who continued pushing me, even when I was too narrow-minded, young and naive to understand the gift she was pushing me towards. Thank you Mom!
