“Mistake” is another word for a working draft we are unable or unwilling to revise, a draft that stands at odds with the story we wish to tell about who we are and what we want. It is a judgment one part of us lashes on another. To indict as having chosen poorly what we once chose willingly is to renounce and dissociate from the substrate of us that did the choosing — a way of denying the stratified richness and complexity of being alive. In a truly integrated life, there are no mistakes — only ...