As a kid, I was often nervous. In her effort to support me, my mother would regularly make an audible sign when I was again having a scratch. It was meant to make me stop.

It did train me to stop. When she was in the surroundings.

However, it also taught me guilt and shame. Every time I heard her signal, I was reminded that I was doing something wrong. Every time I heard her signal, I was reminded that I hadn’t been capable of restraining myself.

Instead of learning to deal with my nervousness, I was being disciplined through existing control. I was soaking in the rules of the environment as well as learning to rely on them. Finding myself having a scratch today, the guilt and shame reappear. And sometimes it stops me. But often I’ll also find myself doing more of the same when the itching reappears or when I look at the results of scratching.

Most of the time, I don’t pay much attention to this process; however, sometimes it reappears and makes me think. It’s one of those lessons life throws at us as often as needed. Life knows that one day we’ll be ready to learn.

The lessons life entertains us with are rich. For today, there are two details I find enriching. One is to be reminded of the extraordinary features of our body. Every time I have a scratch, it repairs it.

The other is how extrinsic discipline needs to meet something intrinsic to become useful. Otherwise, it simply is an obligation we may or may not be able to comply with. Our ability to comply with the rule will depend on its felt presence and enforcement.