good day practice no. 03
Two Things can be true
Edition no. 03 · AUGUST , 2026
We spend a lot of time trying to decide which version of something is the real one.
Was it good or bad?
Am I excited or nervous?
Do I want to stay or am I ready for something different?
Sometimes there is an answer. And sometimes the truest answer is both.
Two things can exist in the same body without one disproving the other. You can be grateful and want more. Strong and tired. Certain about one part and completely unsure about another. You can love something and know it needs to change.
The practice this week is not choosing a side too quickly.
It is making enough room to notice what else is true.
THE PRACTICE
A little productive discomfort…
This week’s practice uses myofascial tune-up balls.
Place a ball underneath an area that feels like it could use some attention, then slowly let some of your weight meet it.
There may be a moment when your first thought is: absolutely not. Stay curious before deciding.
Notice the difference between intensity and pain. You’re looking for pressure you can breathe with, not anything sharp, electrical, numb, or overwhelming.
Let yourself settle around the sensation rather than pushing harder into it. Take a few slow breaths. Then move the ball away and pause.
Notice the after.
The pressure may have been deeply uncomfortable, and the space it leaves behind can feel remarkably good. A little like discovering you had a massage hiding underneath something you were fairly certain you hated thirty seconds ago.
Both can be true.
THE SOUNDTRACK
Three songs living somewhere between softness and strength this week:
Away with the Fairies
Sleepy Fish, Philanthrope
Empowerment
FACESOUL
light dark light
Fred again.., Angie McMahon
There is something I like about putting these three beside one another.
One drifts. One gathers strength. One names the whole idea directly: light, dark, light again.
THE Poem
Two Lights
Low sun, early moon,
and the mermaid hauls out
onto the one rock they are both lighting.
Look — her two shadows,
one thrown east, one thrown west,
each of them hers, each telling the truth.
She has been down where the eelgrass leans,
where winter gathers
in the bones of shells and stones.
The cold has taught her
the blue patience of the deep.
Now the day's last heat finds her shoulders
while the deep still hums beneath her skin,
and the rock says nothing,
and the tide, for one held hour,
moves neither in nor out.
Salt dries on her in white lines,
the sea's handwriting: you were here.
Wind lifts her hair: you are here.
She does not wipe either one away.
A fishing boat drags its small thunder home.
A light comes on somewhere along the shore.
She watches both worlds
get ready for night,
in no hurry to choose between them.
And when she slides back under,
the dark water blooms green around her —
even the dark here
carries its own light.
THE THROUGHLINE
This theme has been following me through different kinds of practice.
In conditioning, it showed up as strength and softness. Working hard while staying steady inside the effort.
In stillness, it became something quieter: noticing that your body, breath, mind, and heart may each be telling you something different, and none of them necessarily has to be wrong.
That may be the larger practice.
To become a little less interested in immediately deciding which feeling gets to win.
To stay with yourself long enough to hear the second truth.
SOMETHING TO CARRY
Where have you been asking yourself to choose between two things that might both be true?
Smile & sigh. Yay.
Let’s make a good day of it,
Bevin
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