One highly underrated aspect of morality is the virtue of diligence.
Doing each small thing as though it is important.
This is because it really is important.
If everyone did every small thing right, void of self in the
doing, sacrificing the Great Important Person for the sake of the picking up of
a leaf (Brother Lawrence), the placing of a comma (Karl Kraus), the faithful living
of a hidden life (George Eliot), the answering of the door (St Alphonsus Rodríguez).
The ego absolutely hates this.
It wants me to be Important.
I am not.
But the tiny things that I do are important.
The object: To do each thing maximally perfectly, and to take
the time to do that, to cut out everything from one’s life that gets in the way
of that, and to get rid of all pride that stops me from dwelling in the perfection
of each task.
In the past I have been guilty of wanting to do the Steps so
that I can have got through the Steps.
I did not want to do the thing itself.
I wanted to go through the motions and be swiftly passed on and
up to the next level.
Without a foundation, the ground floor cannot be built.
Without the first floor, the second floor cannot be built.
This is literally how castles in the air are built.
And when one tries to move in, one breaks one’s neck.
So here’s the task for today: Make the porridge perfectly.
Eat the porridge, paying attention to the eating of the porridge.
Eat the porridge perfectly.
Once that has been mastered, maybe move on up to the next task.
Once I tried to work for a fancy start-up business, but I was
unable to eat porridge and pay attention to that.
No wonder I got into trouble.
Fast asleep in a fast-car life when I hadn’t learned to drive.
“Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.”