Why does choosing not to act take practice?
Someone lends you their desk for the afternoon. A notebook lies beside the lamp. You recognise it as the place they write about their life, and you are curious about what might be in it.
Opening it would take almost no effort. Leaving it closed may occupy you for several minutes. You imagine finding your own name, tell yourself that one page would do no harm and glance towards it again.
Choosing not to act can take practice because the decision has to hold while part of you still wants the action. Knowing that the notebook is private has not removed your curiosity. You have to do something with that curiosity other than satisfy it.
A Spark from The Vision
It takes more to abstain than to err, more to avoid mistakes than to make mistakes; but the good thing is that it gets better with practice.
In Strength to not act, Innocent gives restraint the same need for wisdom and strength as action. He also describes practice making a response more familiar. Not doing the harmful thing is still a choice, even when nobody sees what was required to make it.
At the desk, you can pause before touching the notebook. The pause gives you time to recall what was actually offered: a place to work, not access to someone’s private thoughts. Then you can turn back to your own papers rather than spend the afternoon deciding again whether curiosity grants an exception.
The impulse may return. Perhaps the work becomes dull, or a movement of your arm brings the notebook back into view. Practising restraint includes meeting that second invitation, not only making the first refusal. You can use the same answer instead of reopening the whole argument: it is private, and you have not been invited to read it.
You can also make the situation less demanding. Ask to work at another table, or place your own papers where they hold your attention. There is no extra virtue in keeping a temptation close so you can continually prove that you resist it.
With repetition, the response can become easier to find. You notice sooner that you are inventing permission. You spend less time negotiating over the first page. What becomes familiar is a sequence you have chosen: notice the pull, recall the limit and return to what you meant to do.
This is different from waiting to become a person who never feels curious about anything private. That condition may not arrive. Restraint concerns what you do with the feeling, and can be practised before the feeling changes.
If you have already opened the notebook, stopping still matters. Reading further to justify the first look only extends the intrusion. You may need to acknowledge what happened and repair the breach of trust. A lapse gives you something specific to answer for; it is not proof that every future refusal is pointless.
There are situations where silence or inaction would neglect a responsibility, including a credible concern for someone’s immediate safety. That is a different reason for acting from wanting an interesting glimpse of their life. The practice is not obedience to a rule that doing nothing is always good. It is becoming more able to keep a considered choice when an easier, harmful action is available.
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AI-generated from Innocent Mwatsikesimbe's writing.
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