There are two kinds of discipline; a stressful, combative type of discipline which forces one set of desires to yield to some other set, and the coherent, fully actualized discipline which is a natural byproduct of total commitment to an aim, brooking no dissent from within. The first form is by far the more common, and is brought about through the typical means of reward and punishment, in all their multifarious forms. This applies as much to our own self-discipline as the disciplining of one mind by another, as when a person trains their dog to sit by the use of treats, or to stay off the couch by a firm show of displeasure. The change in mind and behavior is wrought by overpowering one set of desires by means of other desires which are, for any of innumerable reasons, held to be of greater importance. This kind of discipline can be mild and beneficent or extreme and cruel, depending on the magnitude and means employed. I do not think it necessarily problematic―it can, in fact, be absolutely crucial to our success, especially at the outset of our journey―so long as it is used with care and a moderate touch.
The second sort of discipline is born of thoroughgoing assent within one’s mind as to the value and necessity of some end and the means thereto. It is more powerful and efficient than the first, yet also seems much harder to consistently experience and utilize. This is discipline in the sense that once one has holistically decided, totally absent any internal discord, that some specific thing and no other is what is desired, then one will immediately and unrepentantly move towards that aim with the greatest efficiency of which one is capable. It is “discipline” in that by not entertaining any contrary thoughts or desires one is necessarily moving towards one’s aim with the utmost efficiency possible to them, and the minimum of distraction or waste. Thus a person may seem to have an iron will and unbreakable discipline in the first sense of the term when, in fact, they are simply so engrossed in the activities they have settled upon that no other desires or thoughts have the power to distract or pull them aside, for, as it seems to them, those simply do not exist. It is not as if a finite reserve of some mental muscle is being flexed continually to rebuff distractions; petty distractions and doubts simply do not enter into the mind of a person so wholly transfixed on their activities and ends.
Note the trouble with this mode of discipline; it is more ephemeral and difficult to bring about than the first, at least for the great majority of persons. It is a fine balancing act, which can be perturbed from within or without. Yet, in contrast to the first, it is not stressful or degrading; it is, in fact, enlivening, empowering and tremendously rewarding. It is a common trait of all legitimate genius that this form of discipline be an integral part of their creative process. Consider the words of Nikola Tesla, a genius of the first order, who possessed the harmonious form of discipline in abundance:
“Every effort under compulsion demands a sacrifice of life-energy. I never paid such a price. On the contrary, I have thrived on my thoughts.”
“But instinct is something which transcends knowledge. We have, undoubtedly, certain finer fibers that enable us to perceive truths when logical deduction, or any other willful effort of the brain, is futile.”
“When natural inclination develops into a passionate desire, one advances towards his goal in seven-league boots.”