The word integrity comes from Latin integritas, meaning whole or complete. To integrate is to unite separate parts into a whole.
Good luck. Really. I mean it. Good luck with that one. Let me know how it goes.
I have so many pieces strewn out over this city like a confetti blizzard. Gathering them all back would take a lifetime.
What does it mean to be whole?
Is it possible I am whole right now, in my refracted way?
The Universe is a hologram.
All of me in one cell of me.
Do you follow through with your intentions? For today, stick to the plan.
I do this to the fault of rigidity. I feel immense anxiety when I DON’T stick to the plan. Maybe that means I am overflowing with integrity? One can dream.
On each corner of a piece of paper, write one complete sentence retelling:
- earliest memory– I am sitting in dirt on the playground of some preschool. There is a girl that I am insanely jealous of. She is wearing red and white polka dot skirts and has black curly hair with a red bow. I want to be her so badly. I want to be anyone but me.
- worst memory– a series of them. Beginning with the first time I had sex at the age of 13 through High School. And then some.
- best memory-my newborn daughter being placed naked and slimy on my belly and immediately latching on to my boob while looking up at me with these big brown eyes.
- most recent memory– reading my poetry to a room full of privileged prep school kids and hearing them snap their fingers because they related to my pain and suffering.
Now circle all the times you wrote I, Me, Mine, and My. Connect the circles by lines. Cultivate a sense that you are not your experiences. You are an all-embracing human being centering and integrating all that you experience.
Yet some experiences continue to haunt us more than others. It’s so much easier to remember the trauma. So much more fun in a sick sort of way.