Willpower: A Toxic Virtue

— body language by Mia Đặng —

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They'll tell you that willpower's the crown of the strong,

The muscle of virtue you need all along!

But look at it closely, now what do you find?

A carrot, a stick, and a leech on your mind!

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For willpower (as most of the world wields the word)

Is fueled by the praise that you hope will be heard,

Or fear of the blame that will rain on your head—

It's living for gold stars and dodging the dread!

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Oh willpower, willpower, that virtue they cheer!

You’re pumped by the praise and pushed by the fear.

Inside the old House of the Good and the Bad,

Your victories cost you the joy you could have!

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The marathon runner at mile twenty-two,

Now why is she pushing? Now what does she do?

Too often her worth has been shipped out the door—

"They'll think I am GREAT!" is what she's running for.

Her view of herself has been loaned out for rent,

Her greatness must wait for others’ consent!

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Now some run for joy of the journey alone,

The wind and the rhythm, the road as their own—

But THAT isn't willpower, THAT’S their delight!

No praise and no blame—just a run that ignites!

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Oh willpower, willpower, that virtue they cheer!

You’re pumped by the praise and pushed by the fear.

Inside the old House of the Good and the Bad,

Your victories cost you the joy you could have!

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"But wait," you might say, "what of gritting things through?

The dentist is drilling—you tolerate too!"

Oh no! In that chair, though it isn't pure fun,

I EMBRACE the whole deal till the drilling is done!

It’s all mine! I am fine as the process proceeds—

SUCH A DEAL, I say! Such a bargain indeed!

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For tolerance means that you’re just getting through,

You suffer, you grind, you might even feel blue.

If you must depend on the praise or the blame,

You’re moving through life where shame is the game.

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The mother who works at two jobs for her kids

May not be a victim of praise-driven bids—

If SHE sees a great deal in the life as she plays,

Then hers is a love, not Pyrrhic charades!

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Oh willpower, willpower, that virtue they cheer!

You’re pumped by the praise and pushed by the fear.

Inside the old House of the Good and the Bad,

Your victories cost you the joy you could have!

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So here is the test, and it's easy to see:

Am I doing this grudgingly? Miserably?

Then victory's Pyrrhic—the cost was too high,

A victim in virtue's most flattering lie!

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And here's one more test, for the outcome's a spinner—

No journey can promise you'll end as a winner!

If you can say truly, "I'm enjoying the ride,

Whatever the finish line happens to decide,"

Then praise cannot pump you and blame cannot push—

No willpower needed; the joy is the whoosh!

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Could “willpower” the word be redeemed and made new?

It’s doubtful, it’s the label that praise-seekers use.

For mostly that word, as it's commonly spun,

Means suffering nobly for gold stars you've won.

So exit the House of the Good and the Bad—

Don’t sacrifice your life and prove you’ve been had. 

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