The first weeks of interior life were hard:
only one real person with whom to share
my troubling thoughts, my hope, my fear.
I spent weekdays with me, myself and I,
those dubious sisters of doom and gloom
who haunted my pandemic room.
The silence outside was as deafening
as my twisted sisters’ chattering,
and the only way I could escape
was by the front door, step by step,
across the empty road to the football pitch.
In a grassy spot, I paced a steady rhythm
to clear my head of internal voices, which
soon disappeared, left only heartbeat,
breath and birdsong and the disciplined,
daily measured tread of my own feet.
Kim M. Russell, 3rd June 2002
Rommy tells us that she is being a little more disciplined with food and would like us to shape our words around the idea of discipline: when it’s helpful, when it’s harmful or any take we have on the idea of discipline.