The Value Of Being Earnest Over Being Disciplined

Inspiration

Jun 27

I was just chatting with my friend Carly on her podcast, Musings with Merkababe. During our conversation, Carly asked about my thoughts on having disciplined spiritual practices.

GULP.

I might be a softie, here, but I prefer to absolve myself, my students, and my clients of harrowing rigidity around the notion of discipline. When a friend, student, or client asks if they have to practice self-Reiki every day to be a “real” Reiki practitioner or student, I hesitate. When someone assumes they must be on their yoga mat every day to “be” a yogi, I pause.

For many, adding another stringent “to do” on their daily checklist list is stress-inducing — a task to transfer anxiously over to the next day’s tasks, and the next. We're endlessly in action — buying, plotting, worrying, overthinking, and striving — and the sweetness of our practices gets sucked dry being in vigorous, continual motion.

I’m concerned that our staggering need to exist in constant, disciplined “doing” prevents us from BEING. So, no — I do not believe daily Reiki channeling alone makes someone an advanced Reiki practitioner, nor do headstands and jump-backs in yoga asana make someone a stellar yogi. While those outward expressions of devoted commitment are commendable, they’re incomplete.

We don't need to be overtly demonstrative to prove our spiritual discipline.

Many people see hard work as a sign of virtue. But a strong work ethic doesn’t guarantee strong ethics. Instead of attaching worth to the effort people expend, we should prioritize the values they exemplify. Character is a function of generosity and integrity, not industriousness.
-Adam Grant

Instead of moralizing our visible efforts, we should seek to be earnest.

And an earnest spiritual practice moves us inward.

It’s a nuanced difference, but the shift in connotation is there. Disciplined feels rough. Firey. Unyielding.

Earnest is heart-centered. Compassionate. Being earnest is being devoted while allowing space for us to be human.

An earnest practice is often quiet, but neither comfortable nor easy. A sincere approach to our spiritual evolution is slow, mindful, and contemplative. It takes root in our cells, greets us warmly when we’ve lapsed, and endures even when no one is looking.

I began my early Reiki and Yin Yoga studies focusing on the physical attributes of the practices. In Reiki, that’s tenohira or palm healing; in Yin, it’s bodily poses, like a supine twist. My productivity was particularly associated with “doing,” like taking clients and teaching classes and workshops. Unsurprisingly, I burned myself out. Despite communicating to others about “energetic boundaries” and “energetic hygiene,” my own were ambiguously weak.

Thankfully, I had enough knowledge about the history and philosophy behind each practice to spark an epiphany — I was focusing on the wrong things. Guided by expert teachers and inspired by brilliant authors and philosophers, I pursued additional knowledge.

Now, though still a neophyte, I’m immersing myself in the foundational teachings of Buddhism and Daoism, walking mindfully, tuning into the Earth, and breathing consciously. These moments of reflection precede the action of scheduling classes and workshops because the nectar of a mindful, empathetic life is:

Observing the present moment with awareness, absent of judgement

This life is a commitment to return to being. To feeling. To living in compassion, empathy, and appreciation. The journey here is more challenging but more rewarding than mastering a headstand or booking 10,000 clients. It’s an earnest life of steeping ourselves in grateful, content, attention moment by moment.

Listen to my full discussion with Carly and hear me get giddy over how Reiki and Yin Yoga draw us towards a state of being.