As a lawyer, I've heard so many times, and I've seen with my own two eyes, how critical integrity is. My word matters. My ability to feel and show respect matters. My temperance matters. My intense and steadfast care in the things I do matters. My conscientiousness matters. These are all forms of external integrity -- meeting high standards, not giving in to defeat, respectfully working with others, and in all ways, being respectable. It's imperative in a profession where poor judgment can lead to losing a law license or the respect of judges and peers. Without my integrity, what have I got?
(Caveat: I am human though, and I have learned to also be mindful about my conscientiousness in particular going too far... I know this now. It can create an unhealthy rigidity that can feel toxic if it bleeds over into everything too much. A law professor once told me I was conscientious to a fault... which I was a little offended by at the time, but now I realize that perhaps I can be, when I am overthinking things, anyway. It may give me near perfect grades and a reputation for doing impeccable legal work, but it steals joy to be too conscientious in all facets of life. Perhaps I should remember a little more often something that my boss (also a highly-respected lawyer, by the way) told me a few months ago: you have to be good enough to be healthy, but bad enough to be happy... there's a lot of wisdom in that off-handed comment (which clearly stuck with me).)
But at the core, without integrity, I am not me. And I cannot do all the Everything I do in an authentic way without it. And interestingly, as an artist (my other me, the eccentric and grittier side of my otherwise type-A personality), integrity also lies in the center of everything, albeit manifested differently. Maybe it's no coincidence that integrity has the word "grit" embedded in it. I've got that in spades. The artist-side of me is a less conscientious version of my integrity-fueled self, though. When I have focused on art in various ways throughout my life (in making, in loving, in music...), it's been with an honesty and ease of dedication that comes more effortlessly than in any other form. There is no bending to expectation or convention. It is just pure as can be. An integrity tied to my inner self that just flows out. I am less anal-retentive in art, and passionate. But still... integrity is key. (And I'm realizing the concept behind what I'm sleepily trying to explain is also tying to a book I started reading called Finding Your Own North Star... and the main important takeaway from that book (which I didn't finish yet) seems to be this: we have social selves (the supposed to do's and should do's) and essential selves (our own internal North Star that our gut points us to if we listen). And they must be in harmony.)
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I should probably back up and start where lawyer-me usually does: with the definition (...that art-side I was swimming in a moment ago in that paragraph just before threatened to interfere with my orderly analysis... but I honestly like that it interrupted the order by injecting a little chaos, so I'm gonna leave it as I wrote it... as it just came out).
Anyway, Webster's defines integrity as:
1
: firm adherence to a code of especially moral or artistic values : incorruptibility
2
: an unimpaired condition : soundness
3
: the quality or state of being complete or undivided : completeness
Adherence to a code... an artistic code even. Incorruptibility. Unimpaired. Soundness. Completeness. Undivided.
This is who I am. Who I must be. At my core. Whether it's the conscientious and detail-oriented lawyer version or the steadfast and pure artistic side flowing from within. Either way. Incorruptible. Sound. Unimpaired. Whole. Even if seemingly disparate on the surface.
And I'm realizing why the concept of integrity keeps sitting on my shoulder. It's one of the hardest things to hold on to with steadfast determination when things crumble or catch fire. When change is afoot. And it happens to be the Monday concept on which I focus in a series of daily meditations I've been doing for a number of months now. Each day of the week, I focus on a particular concept or notion from the seven virtues of Bushido, which I understand only loosely and on a surface level to derive from the Samurai honor code. I'm not focused on the history of Bushido or the why or how this concept ended up on my path. Indeed, I had never heard of Bushido at all until a friend posted about it on Facebook. But I saw it, it caught my attention, and I realized I needed to incorporate it into my way of thinking at this time in my life. And so I have. (When something makes itself evident to me, I listen now. I don't quash or ignore things I sense I'm supposed to see or hear.) And so these seven lessons are now ones I remember, consciously, every day. On repeat.
I have this printed out on my desk at work next to one of my monitors and have an electronic copy on my phone for reference on the weekends, with a reminder on my phone for every morning to meditate on the Bushido concept for the day. And I do it and reflect on how it fits and strengthens me with each passing week. The first virtue I meditate on every Monday, and so on through Sunday when I get to the seventh.
And even though I began this post thinking about integrity, today is Thursday. Which in my meditative cycle is honor. Which happens to have my favorite precept of all seven in a simple and poignant line at the bottom:
YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM YOURSELF.
Can't you just still hear that reverberating in the air? I cannot hide from myself.
I did for a long time. Not in everything. I've been authentic more often than not throughout my life. But I did hide from myself as I tried mightily to be conscientious in all things, even if it meant silencing inconvenient things inside, even when mess should have been allowed to win. Life is a beautiful mess, after all. And this conscientiousness of mine running rampant was, indeed, to a fault as my professor tried to tell me twelve years ago; I now see. But I refuse to ever do that again. There's no going back once you open your eyes to your self. I know myself, and I love her, strengths and faults... all the things. And I trust her. I never wanted to hide from her. But it's easy sometimes to hide from yourself when you're so determined to do what's objectively right, when you're a pleaser by nature, when you're determined not to fail at things, and when you've worked so damn hard. But... when I stopped hiding from myself, something magical happened. I greeted myself on a path. Petals unfurled. Smoke cleared. Fog lifted. Every metaphor like that you can think of. There was more light I had forgotten to see. Things began to sing everywhere. I could see things falling into place. It's an irreversible course fueled by energy, by the universe, by everything I see, which just propels me forward in an authentic and beautiful way. With so much less fear. Enlivening and solidifying the me from whom I cannot hide. Indeed, pieces seem to fall into place even while they are also objectively falling apart. I cannot hide from myself. The conscientious form of integrity is still inside me of course, but so is the integrity with GRIT. My social self and my essential self -- my North Star -- are coming together. I have a burning desire to be whole again. And I am so close.
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