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  • Writer's pictureJuna Mustad

I am Large, I Contain Multitudes

You can’t put me in a box.

I am a multifaceted, complex, dynamic, wild and unruly.

I contain multitudes.

I can feel both the greatest joy and the deepest grief at the same time. I can feel abundant and in total scarcity. Love and fear coexist in my heart 24/7.

I want to make money AND I don’t give a sh*t about making money. I am so excited to finish writing my book AND every part of my being resists finishing my book. I got the vax AND no part of me trusts those money-hungry goblins running big pharma. I want to experience the greatest love in this life AND when love is here, staring me in the face, all I want to do is run the other direction. I am a sexual, wild creature AND I am a tame, prude, shy, little nugget of love. I want to be fully seen and shout my truths from the mountaintops AND I want to hide in a safe, quiet, little corner of the Earth for all eternity.

I contain multitudes.

And yes, I contradict myself all the goddamn time.

The more I do my inner work, the more I become acquainted with all my different parts: my inner little girl, my wise self, my Soul, my messy self, my shy self, my fierce snake goddess, my selfish self, my good girl, my badass courageous self… so many parts. And they all make up the sum total of Me.

I am enjoying noticing how my ego would love to sort through all of these parts, discarding the ones that don’t serve my ideal self-image, so that it can pedestalize, parade and instagram-ize the one or two parts that make me look really good.

But the truth is… we are all beautifully, messily, imperfectly HUMAN and we are a compilation of a multitude of parts, and that’s perfectly ok.

A healthy human isn’t cut off from their unsavory parts. Instead, we are constantly meeting them, befriending them, integrating and composting them into the Whole of ourselves. Just like when you toss a handful of chocolate chips, walnuts, and raisins into a bowl of cookie dough batter. You stir it around using a big wooden spoon, and then bake the cookies until all the little individual morsels of goodness start to soften, melt, and connect into one perfectly, imperfect, sticky, gooey, delicious little cookie.

That’s me. That’s you. We are all just cookies… walking, talking, breathing, beautiful contradictions.

We contain multitudes.


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