freedom – Page 2 – Deborah Makarios

March 25, 2016

Self-Control

Self-control does not have a glamourous image. When we think of self-control, we tend to think of terribly grim types like Lord Chesterfield, who wrote in his instructions to his son that “In my mind, there is nothing so illiberal, and so ill-bred, as audible laughter… I am sure that since I have had the full use of my reason nobody has ever heard me laugh.”

Mind you, this was his illegitimate son he was writing to, so he’s probably not the ideal poster-boy for self-control. Expunge him from your mind. (What a wonderful word that is: expunge. Expunge.) The point is, though (I knew I’d find it in here somewhere), that self-control has a reputation for being one of the more tedious and unpleasant virtues. This reputation, I must say, is wholly undeserved.

To be fair, self-control is not an easy virtue to acquire, but what can you do without it? Well, lots of things, most of which will come back to bite you, in the near or distant future. Without self-control, the athlete sleeps in instead of training and thus never wins. Without self-control, the kiddie eats chocolate cake until he pukes, and fails to enjoy his party. Without self-control, the office-worker socks his annoying boss in the eye and gets fired. Without self-control, the student watches TV instead of studying and thus fails to make the grade. Without self-control, the politician sends inappropriate pictures of himself (under a cringe-worthy pseudonym) to an affronted woman, thus sabotaging his reputation and career.

Self-control: don’t leave home without it. In fact, don’t do anything without it.

Consider how the day might go without self-control. You’re late for work because you couldn’t make yourself get out of bed. You get in trouble for playing Frozen Bubble/Spider Solitaire/Minesweeper/[insert addictive game here] when you should have been working, because you couldn’t resist the urge. You go with the unhealthy option for lunch. You hit the mall for some retail therapy, just to make yourself feel better after your horrible day, and – this is so embarrassing! – your card is declined, because you have made one too many impulse purchases already. You go home to sulk, realize you haven’t sorted out anything for dinner, and end up eating dry toast because you can’t be bothered cooking anything ‘proper’ and you haven’t made the time-sacrifice necessary to have anything in the cupboard suitable for putting on toast. Depressing? I think so.

Ah, but what can you do with self-control? You can reach your goals. You can politely refuse to take on inessentials (because saying “no” to yourself is excellent training for saying “no” to others). You can have a glass of wine at the end of a long day without drinking yourself under the table; or a piece of dark chocolate without scarfing the whole block. Because self-control doesn’t always mean saying “no” to yourself. Sometimes it means saying “not now”, or “that’s enough.”

Self-control is freedom. Self-control is what gets good habits going. Self-control is what gets you to the Olympics (whether it’s as an athlete, or someone who saved up for tickets). Self-control is what gets you a healthy life – not only physically healthy and financially healthy, but time-healthy, because you never watch TV just because it’s there, and you never get caught doing stuff that doesn’t matter because you somehow couldn’t say no.

Enough! I hear you saying. Stop blethering on about the attractions of this wonder-virtue and tell me how I can get my hands on some. (Sudden urge to tell people to send in an SASE with only $2.99 for a pamphlet on how to gain self-control in three easy steps. Urge resisted. See? Self-control: good for everybody.)

Three steps, eh? Let’s see. Personally, I’d advise working up to it. Build up a bit of virtuous muscle before tackling the big stuff. Trying to go straight from a life of unfiltered impulse to a life of perfectly balanced control is a bit much of a jump: you’ll probably pull something. Break it down and take it step by step.

Step #1: find an area of your life which could use a bit more discipline. This doesn’t have to be something huge; in fact it would be better if it isn’t. Washing the dishes promptly, say; or putting the rubbish out.

Step #2: coach yourself. Right! you say to yourself, the hour has come when we are going to get those dishes washed. Now this isn’t going to hurt; it’s not a big deal; we’re just going to mosey on over there and run some water into the sink. Done in no time, and then we’ll put our feet up with a cuppa. Keep telling yourself why you’re doing this. It’s going to be a habit! It will never be a huge deal again! The dishes will get done without us even having to bother about it!

Step #3: Rinse and repeat. Actually, just repeat. If you need to rinse your dishes after washing them you are probably using too much detergent.

Take another example: not bolting through that entire block of chocolate. Again the steps: #1, you decide what needs to be done (or in this case, not done). No more than two squares a day, you tell yourself. #2: you coach yourself through it. You decide you’re going to save the squares as an end-of-the-day unwinding treat. Every time you find your mind – or your hand – creeping toward that chocolate, you tell yourself you can have some tonight. And then – this is very important – you eat the chocolate. No seeing how far you can push this self-control thing just yet. Put the chocolate away (step away from the chocolate), and #3: have some more tomorrow.

There’s nothing new here; and I’m sure you all know all this. The problem, I find, is that we have so long relied on some outside force to “make us” – the boss that will fire us if we’re always late; the guest whose presence will embarrass us if we don’t clean the house; the parent who won’t let us play til we’ve done our homework – that we’ve never learned to exert control over ourselves. There’s always been someone else to do it for us.

Basically, the bits of us that aren’t self-controlled are the bits that haven’t grown up yet. So deal with them like you’d deal with a kid (and no I don’t mean bribery mixed with threats). Set yourself some boundaries and keep to them. When you’re struggling, remind yourself how much you don’t want to be trapped in a life that is out of control. And as always, if you have any helpful tips, be sure to leave them in the comments.

September 18, 2015

Of Flags, Fire and Our Piratical Destiny

There is a tide (Shakespeare informs us), in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat, and we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.

What Shakespeare is saying (or would be if he had sufficient foresight) is that New Zealand should change its flag, and so doing, steer the ship of state toward our remarkable and unexpected destiny. His metaphor is a well chosen one.

Let me explain.

The present referendum is our Prime Minister’s idea. It’s to be a two-part postal referendum: in the first, we’ll narrow down a shortlist of four to the lead contender, and in the second, we’ll choose between that and the status quo.

It’s rather like the America’s Cup, really: contenders fight for the right to duke it out with the present holder of the title. Unfortunately, the long-list of forty was released to the general public, even though they were not permitted to have a say on which made it to the short-list – rather like allowing thirty-six yachts to sail past but not to actually race.

We are now in the first (or Louis Vuitton) stage of proceedings, in which we are asked to rank the four contenders in order of preference. And here they are, not in order of preference (or at least, not mine):

This design, by Kyle Lockwood, is probably closest to our present flag, at least in the lower right, and maintains the traditional red, white and blue colour scheme.

Great minds think alike, you say (or fools seldom differ, depending on your vexillological tastes), but no, this design is also from the teeming brain of Kyle Lockwood.

This design, from Andrew Fyfe, of a simple black and white koru is, in my opinion, the winner of the unofficial “which flag will look best whilst burning” competition.

There is also talk of including the Red Peak design (by Aaron Dustin) but as of this writing, no decision has been made – or at least, no decision has been announced.

It is, however, the fourth of the designs on the current short-list (designed by Alofi Kanter), which is my favourite.

Please, do not mistake me for a rabid sports fan. I can, if I concentrate, remember which sort of oval-ball game it is the All Blacks play, but that is about the extent of my sporting knowledge and interest. I do not even own a pair of red socks. No, I favour this design for two simple reasons.

The first is its similarity to this, the flag of anarcho-pacifism:

New Zealand has long been a leader when it comes to waging peace. Te Whiti o Rongomai, one of my personal heroes, was leading indigenous people in non-violent resistance before Gandhi was born or thought of.

Later, we declared our entire nation a nuclear-free zone – despite being the first to split the atom. This was enforced, even to the extent of refusing to allow the vessel bearing our own Head of State to enter our waters. (For the record, totally the Royal Navy’s fault. They refused to “confirm or deny” that they had nuclear material on the Royal Yacht Britannia alongside the Queen.)

Let us be frank: New Zealand has never been known for its devotion to, or respect for its leaders. Hierarchical we are not. Hence the anarcho-pacifism.

The second reason is that black and white flags are traditionally emblematic of pirates. But wait, I hear you say. How can you possibly pair anarcho-pacifism with anything of the genus Jolly Roger? Isn’t it a symbol of murder and mayhem? Well, no. Pirates didn’t actually fight under it.

To my surprise on looking into the subject, I found that the black and white flag was not flown by pirates all the time, but only when about to attack. (You are not helping your case, I hear you say. Bear with me.) Pirates would fly false colours – or no colours – until they had approached their prospective victim, at which point they would run up the jolly black-and-white: declaring their intentions, rather like a Victorian suitor.

The ship thus surprised then had the choice of surrendering or fighting. If they decided to surrender, they would be spared. If they decided to fight, the pirates would then run up a red flag: no quarter would then be given. (Privateers, on the other hand, weren’t allowed to kill you regardless of how hard you had fought before you surrendered.)

I have even heard it said that any ship flying under a black and white flag can, under international law, be treated as a pirate ship, but, to quote Wikipedia, [citation needed].

New Zealand is a nation surrounded by water (in fact, the furthest you can get from the coast is in the middle of a lake) and therefore eminently suited for being a pirate nation. With our cheerful disregard for other nations’ demands (surrender those children to the Communists, stay away from that atoll…) we are half-way there already.

In fact, with the TPPA demanding that we extend copyright protection to seventy years after the creator has shuffled off this mortal coil, now is an excellent time to go pirate. Being pacifist pirates, we will of course resort only to culture piracy, which unlike old-school piracy ensures that, post-pirating, the piratee still has their goods (this in kindergarten lingo is known as “sharing”).

Furthermore, anarcho-pacifism and piracy are practically enshrined in our national anthems. “Confound their politics / frustrate their knavish tricks” says the one (that’s the anarchism) and “Peace not war shall be our boast,” says the other (that’s the pacifism), going on to add “May our mountains ever be / freedom’s ramparts on the sea” (that’s the piratical bit).

The whole point of a flag (although to be fair, flags aren’t usually pointed, unless you’re Nepal) is that it is symbolic of the entity it represents, in this case, the country of New Zealand. As the flag is, so shall the nation be.

I therefore call upon the people of New Zealand to use their Louis Vuitton vote to move our nation one step closer to fulfilling its destiny, as the world’s first anarcho-pacifist pirate state. Arrr.

September 27, 2014

Drunk on Life

I have been thinking about minimalism a great deal lately, and it seems to me that it isn’t so much a case of getting rid of things as of distilling your life to its essence. Getting rid of things is not the point, it’s the process. All that stuff which is inessential (that is, not part of the essence) is an unlamented by-product of the distillation. I mean, when did you last hear someone fretting over the missing by-products of their whisky? Exactly.

When I look at my own life, however, I am afraid that it is far from being a pure essence. Any gunpowder drenched in the liquor of my daily existence wouldn’t give so much as a fizzle, let alone a really satisfactory BANG! Never mind proof or over-proof, you couldn’t get a dormouse drunk on this.

But there is hope for me yet. Little by little, drop by drop, I am distilling my life into something stronger. I am peeling away the layers of things I neither want nor need – garments that don’t fit, holey unmatched socks, random paper-based stuff – and finding as I do that I am feeling freer and freer from other stuff as well. Things I have kept for years, decades even, because I felt I couldn’t let them go, I now feel perfectly comfortable about releasing.

It’s actually quite addictive. The satisfaction of seeing all the dross purged from one small area of my life is such an enjoyable feeling I can’t help wanting to repeat it.

Purifying a precious metal from its overlaying dross is a good metaphor for the process, actually. So, to my surprise, is a military campaign. I always think of military campaigns as being terribly grim and disciplined – and no doubt they are. My campaign is more a guerrilla-style campaign of freedom and joy. Like a guerrilla gardener or a guerrilla knitter, except they add where I remove.

I find myself prowling around the house, interrogating stuff with a critical eye. I lie awake at night considering potential targets and plotting my next move. Keep the best and toss the rest. And by toss I mean gift, donate or recycle. Or compost, in the worst cases.

I dream of being free of the bulk, the sheer physical thingness of my possessions. Of having the mental, physical and emotional space to devote myself to what truly matters to me. I plan, in fact, to get tiddly on the distilled essence of my life.

What have you been dreaming about lately? How are you getting there?