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Some days I carry meditation beads alongside tins of Copenhagen snuff.
Some days I’m in the four walls of the yoga studio talking dharma and mindfulness. Others I’m choking down tear gas in a stuffy concrete box.
Some days I can barely roll out of bed or bend down to lift my daughters. Others I’m moving weight on my shoulders over distance and terrain.
Some days I don’t sleep. Others, I do.
Sometimes I’m Gandhi, others I’m Tyson.
The key, however, is not to fight, but to reconcile. To show compassion for each half of the whole.
There’s a decent chance I may never align these shades of my being. There’s also a good chance I’ll pick up more vices and coping mechanisms along the way.
The important part is, I’m steering my own ship.
My advice? Look inside. Figure out what makes you weird and dual and different. Embrace that shit.
And vary your life experience.
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