Integrity and Corruption

The former, a search, a concept of what we would like to be, an image of ourselves and of others as we could be at our most glorious, our most alive and real, our deepest level of existence, with our actions mirroring the truth of our hearts; an honesty of word and deed, as they say. Corruption, then, is the opposite- the bending and slurring of our lines, boundaries, and our very faith. Perhaps principles are solid...dedication to what is right...but solid conceptions of right and wrong are but another vague remnant of childhood.

("Where is the road to Neverland, like we were promised in Peter Pan, lost boys can't stop or understand the raging storms of men.")

Of these two- integrity and corruption- I say the latter is not less valuable than the former.

When do begin to arrive? (To achieve that of which we dreamed.) At present, integrity is notable only by it's absence, conjured up by the sweet after-taste of memory that corruption leaves in its wake. I think it was C.S. Lewis in "Out of the Silent Planet" who said that a pleasure is only complete when it is remembered. So it seems to be, these days, with integrity. An elusive notion to start, it grows slowly more clear as it deteriorates despite grasping hands. Failure is like rot, and shows you the flaws in your solid notions.

Out of high school, searching as always, I defined the word for myself: "When your hands are cracked and callused, and the rain is dripping from your hair, and you keep going; that's when you know you're there."

I suppose, then, the corruption comes in when you are finally alone and you put your head down and cry. And when you flick off your alarm at 4:00 am and go back to sleep, as though you could hide from the dawn. Corruption, also, of your defenses, as you begin to notice how a slew of strangers has crept into your life and made themselves at home in your heart, despite your tallest strongest walls. Corruption of your dependence, of the ties to friends that keep your afloat, as alone in your house (again) through Delta rain, you discover the pleasure of drowning, the honesty of letting go. Corruption of your pretty face as you resolve to admit your weakness, in hopes of mending it. Corruption of your form and shape, as you collect your shards from the floor, finally aware of the fault-lines, and ready to rebuild your image of yourself and especially the world.

When do we begin to arrive? Apparently, only after we have departed.