Introspection and Integrity.

From the garden.

I have been writing. Everyday, I get up, have a cup of tea and write. It’s a ritual that aligns me with my path. Sitting in a comfortable chair and looking out a window at trees, has been a part of every morning for the past 22 years. I am not able to meet the day without a few hours to myself at the beginning.

When I was working, I got up two hours before I had to leave so I could indulge in my way of starting the day. Now that I am retired, I never schedule an appointment before 10 am and rarely commit to doing more than one thing a day that takes me out of the house.

The time I have available for silent contemplation is worthy of my full attention. For me, this is an act of doing something. As an introvert, solitary, spinster, loner – this is the most important part of my life. I process information internally. I take what I see, what I read, and what I experience ‘inside’ where it gestates, diffuses, gets categorized and prioritized. I respect my limits, honor my intuition and protect my boundaries.

Introspection is the examination or observation of one’s own mental and emotional processes. This is my primary activity. I am an observer rather than an actor. I enjoy the experience of being myself and can’t think of anyone else I would rather spend time with.

I often use the word integral which is similar to integrity. Integrity is the state of being whole and undivided; the condition of being unified, unimpaired, or sound in construction; internal consistency or lack of corruption.

The more intimately I know myself, the more I feel my integrity. There is nothing wrong with me, (except perhaps a limited view of my potential). In my wholeness, I can do what is mine to do. I can’t do what the man next door does or what the neighbor in the next building does. I can’t do what the president or the ceo or the pope does. If I am fully aware of my wholeness, and respect my right to be, then the world magically unfolds before me.

(As I was writing this, a hummingbird fluttered for a few moments in front of my window, as if she was looking in at me).

The more I accept the fact that ‘an individual compass’ navigates me through life, the more I can let go of the should’s and the supposed to’s. Nobody knows what is right for me except me. In my world, there is no man in the sky looking down in judgment, condemning me for my mistakes. My suffering is the result of going off my course, of invalidating my own knowingness.

Someone out there kneeling
No one out there listening
But what I want to know
before you save my soul
is who gave this power to that fucker up there.

~ Someone Out There, Cowboy Junkies

I don’t care what is ‘up there’ anymore. I care about what is right in front of me, what I touch, the ground I walk on, the food I eat, the things that bring me visceral pleasure. I am rooted in a bodily experience, I exist because food grows out of the earth and nourishes me, I am here because a flesh and blood woman gave birth to me. While I respect the unknown and the mysterious, I don’t give it human attributes or the power to rule existence.


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