What is it, integrity? The word has long been associated with religious, moralistic bullshit. Sorry to be so blunt.
To me, integrity means living by your own beliefs and thoughts and feelings, being true to yourself, providing you are not hurting anybody in the process. Of course the I met Buddhism and I was shown how that is impossible: in order not to hurt anyone, which the Buddhists agree with, you must get to the point where you basically do nothing, attach yourself to nothing and nobody, feel no passion, wants, desires, all you do is live day by day being mindful, quiet, as umperturbed as possible. Like a still pond, clean ad peaceful. As so as I fully comprehended that philosophy, I yelled against it. What the hell is the point of having all these very human feelings if what I have to do in order to live mindfully and gracefully is to suppress them?
And, as far as my OWN philosophy of integrity is concerned, how is it fair, ad according to whom, that I take 90% of me and work the rest of my life to erase it, control it, stifle it until I am at peace with the fripping universe?
I don’t believe it.
I have always hated compromise, I find (I should say “found”) it useless, unproductive, a waste of time as it led you to accept situations that your instinct told you a long time ago were untenable, and above all, its greatest crime, BORING.
Then of course children came. I still fought against compromise, but then the love I had been avoiding all my life came too, ad there you go, suddenly between me and freedom there was that heavy, unrenounceable love you feel for those who depend on you.
Friends can always travel and come to see you, but children? A husband? Not because he’s a husband, but because you chose him to be your husband so you could promise each other to be there for each other, to not be selfish and take off whenever the fancy took you and expect to be welcomed back into open arms.
Children, husband, animals. All creatures I adore, all creatures there to clamp down to reality and sanity this rootless creature that I am. The weight of food I ingest just to keep me down, to keep me from drifting away with the wind.
To know what is right and what is wrong. Something I cried for a long time ago. Be careful what you ask for, as you may get it. Knowing what is right and what is wrong doesn’t mean it will be easy to do what is right. You could tear your hair out and still will only be able to do what is right, because you KNOW, as previously demanded…. and you won’t be able to stray.
Pretty, comfortable, delightful Cambridge has me trapped in its golden little cage.
Ignorance, on the other hand, is bliss.