“Reflect and return to the straight and narrow, one day before your death,” my fourth-grade teacher scrawled on the blackboard one day, citing Pirkei Avot, the Jewish book of ethics. Quite a formidable maxim to digest as a kid. Yet, growing up in Israel in the 1990s, the concept of death wasn’t a foreign one to me. My childhood perception of reality wasn’t based exclusively on Disney movies, the movies I watched while wearing a gas mask in bomb shelters during the 1991 Gulf War to divert my four-year-old mind.

I was six when my beloved and only grandmother passed away. Even as a young boy, I understood that life is finite. I knew any day could be “one day before my death,” but, I couldn’t quite comprehend what it meant to realign myself onto the correct path, much less how to do so. So I did what any good pupil would do; I looked to the precedence of those who came before me. One of my ancestors was a soldier; another was a Rabbi, who published eight books narrated by his visually-impaired father. Their lifestyles were minimally congruent, but they all shared one vital quality: the ability to self-discipline and self-lead. Whether it was about keeping their combat boots shining, wearing uniforms, or memorizing sacred Jewish writings, it was self-discipline that converted the requirements of their chosen fields into constructive habits and, ultimately, second nature as self-leaders. In the inimitable words of the former US Navy Admiral, William H. McRaven, “If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed.”

Now, as a physics graduate student, I’ve created my own version of self-discipline and self-leadership to keep me on track, aligned with the arrow of time toward progress:

Self-communication. I routinely communicate my feelings and needs with myself. Like Muhammad Ali, who didn’t start to count sit-ups until it started hurting, I stay on task and before taking a break I set a two-minute timer to keep going for just another 120 seconds. Only when Alexa, Google, or Siri notifies me, do I take the actual break. The two-minute timer motivates me to go further and ultimately builds my concentration threshold. I also self-communicate and express my envisaging of myself for the next 5, 10, or 20 years.

My work matters! In a world where we are used to instant feedback and results, it can be easy to lose a sense of urgency or importance when working on long-term projects. Science follows complex non-linear dynamics with chaotic characteristics. It’s impossible to predict the long-term effects of my efforts. Even chaos theory in mathematics was born after a serendipitous discovery by one of the theory’s trailblazers, the MIT meteorologist, Edward Lorenz. Likewise, many allegedly esoteric research projects in virology have led to major discoveries in biology, such as gene-editing technologies.

Habit transduction. I often replace existing habits with more productive ones. For example, instead of checking the news, I read half a page in a book or drink water. Instead of scrolling through my Facebook feed, I take five deep breaths.

Valuable breaks. I turn on the Do Not Disturb mode on any platform I own. For 40 minutes, I snooze Slack, emails, put my phone away, and turn music on.

Daily “anchor” habits. I maintain three short and easy-to-do anchor habits throughout the day. These ground me with a sense of routine. These include coffee at 8 am, five minutes of body exercise (walks, pushups, or sit-ups) at 12:30 pm, and a long walk or a news break at 5 pm.

“Atomic” habits. In his book Atomic Habits, James Clear encourages readers to identify or develop short, achievable “atomic” habits, which are small and positive actions that are relatively easy to repeat each day. Later, Clear outlines how to cultivate new habits by simply stacking them to existing atomic habits. A recent habit I’ve acquired, this way, to stay updated with the latest scientific publications is to read the homepage of EurekAlert.org every night after brushing my teeth.

Flexibility. Every task I add to my daily to-do list spans a range of must-have and nice-to-have thresholds. For example, I must apply to between two and five postdoc programs or write between 500 and 5,000 words in my dissertation.

Viktor Frankl wrote: “Our greatest freedom is the freedom to choose our attitude.” Self-quarantine could be a golden opportunity for you to unleash the best in yourself. Even when the freedom of physical movement is restrained, the freedom of thought and choice are merely yours. Use this time to “return to the straight and narrow” by developing productive habits and sticking to them. It’s dogged as does it. Communicate your feelings with yourself, even if you have the best therapist in the world. I am sure you will find the disciplined self-leader inside.