In All Honesty | Embodying Integrity

In All Honesty | Embodying Integrity

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In All Honesty | Embodying Integrity
In All Honesty | Embodying Integrity
The ritual of re-entry

The ritual of re-entry

Learning to honor the space in between

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Maris Young
May 24, 2024
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In All Honesty | Embodying Integrity
In All Honesty | Embodying Integrity
The ritual of re-entry
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Take a deep breath when reading In All Honesty by Maris Young

IN ALL HONESTY | AT A GLANCE

This week’s column is for paid subscribers, and it holds:

  • a featured story on the importance of acknowledging transitions


Oh, and be sure to check out the last column:

A pilgrimage towards radical acceptance

Maris Young
·
May 10, 2024
A pilgrimage towards radical acceptance

I’ve been in a tussle with What Is, attempting to bend it to better fit the shape of What Could Be. It’s a losing battle, and yet I can’t quite figure out how to stop...

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between two universes

“On my way home,” I texted the babysitter after hauling my Doula bag into the front seat of the car. Five hours of early labor support whizzed by for me in what felt like an instant. Outside of Birthlandia, however, the afternoon had already melted into evening, my eldest son was home from school and my husband was preparing for his weekly guitar lesson.

I hurried back. If I returned within the next 15 minutes, I could stay within the same babysitter pay rate.

By the time I parked in our driveway 5 minutes down the street, the incessant beeping of the IV monitors was still ringing in my ears. And the artificial chill of the delivery room was still sending shivers up my spine.

Even so, I raced up the steps to our front door, ready to resume my role as wifemotherwoman.

Minecraft Story Mode blared from the TV, greeting me before anyone else could. “Mom! I’m learning how to make an origami swan!” my oldest yelled out. “Mama! Mama! Mama!” squealed my almost 18-month son as he twirled around with a bright yellow block in his hand. “Everything went great!” the babysitter said, her voice rising slightly over all the commotion.

I thanked her, paid her and walked her to the door. Guitar licks hummed through the air from the music studio as my husband prepped for class. My stomach growled, harmonizing with the rest of the house’s ambience.

I wanted to transform into my domestic self without missing a beat…

Paid subscribers unlock the rest of this week’s prose (+ my full archive of writings).

Become a paid subscriber & get access to In All Honesty all year long. Here, we’re on a quest to discover what walking in integrity looks life for each of us. If you’re into nervous system work, somatics, emotional embodiment and personal narrative, you’re in the right place. May this column inspire you to get to know yourself better✨

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