“Information wants to be free.” That phrase has popped into my head every time I’ve seen someone selling a set of teachings. There’s the fundamental necessity of needing to make ends meet, and I understand that that would play into an author’s motivation to charge for their work. The struggle for me is that non-free information always arouses a bit of suspicion and skepticism in me, especially when it comes to anything spiritual.

If you have a set of spiritual teachings that you truly believe is of benefit to anyone who would hear it, why would you put up any barrier at all to its dissemination? Wouldn’t you be more inclined to go out of your way to get that information into as many hands as possible? Why should only those with $20 for a book, $100 for a workshop, or $400 for a weekend seminar be privy to the enlightenment it would provide?

Access to the Internet isn’t free and universal yet, but it’s trending that way. Things that strike a chord with people spread exponentially to reach millions with incredible speed, and I think it’s de-legitimizing traditional publishing methods. Yet these books are still flying off the shelves. Does the adage “you get what you pay for” apply to everything, including spiritual insight?

I think it’s hypocritical to breathlessly advocate love and giving to others while guarding such wisdom with a price of admission. How many people neglect the best interests of their families or themselves by giving what they can’t afford to spiritual teachers? Are they any less deserving of the hope that these people are selling than those that have disposable income?

Some spiritual teachers have made very lucrative careers for themselves. Sylvia Browne and Deepak Chopra come to mind. I’d like to know by what process they have come to reconcile their message with their lifestyle. Does their message endure by its own power, or does it need a price tag, a mention on Oprah, and a spot on the New York Times best seller list?

It’s not going to matter if I’m sore, if I’m tired, if I’m already late for work. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to be doing pushups every morning before I leave the house.

I’m starting with 3.

Every week I’m going to increase that number by one. Every pushup is going to be done slowly, deliberately, with perfect form and no cheating. That should keep me from injuring my shoulders. I’m starting with 3 because I just now determined that that’s the number of perfect-form pushups I can do without feeling like I’m straining. Granted, this is starting pretty small, but I’m pretty weak in the upper body, and I always have been, and I’m tired of it.

Adding one rep a week seems to me to be an extremely gradual progression that should allow my body plenty of opportunities to lay down the structure to support the increasing workload. With luck, I won’t really notice the added rep and I’ll always stay at that level of effort without having to strain. It’s also an unstoppable progression that will have me doing more than 50 pushups per morning in a year. By the time the number of reps starts has reached a point where it’s inconvenient because of the time it takes, I’ll imagine I’ll have started replacing a few dozen regular pushups with one one-arm pushup.

Maybe things will get easier with time and I won’t want to wait a week before adding a rep anymore. That would be great. For now I’ll just stick with something that seems so easy, and therefore makes me think of any excuse to avoid it as a pathetic cop-out, that I have to stick to it, for my own pride’s sake. And this is a public announcement of it to anyone who reads this blog — not that anyone else does, or should, care about it. Yes, both of you are now aware of my “You’re Pathetic If You Don’t Do Your Pushups Today, Jordan” plan, a.k.a. YPIYDDYPT: “yippie-dipped”…hey, I kind of like that.