As ilg heaved, huffed, and puffed my fatigued hip flexors through the deep, sacred snows i actually arrived at such a point whereupon i felt i was literally fucking the snow with each uphill hip-flexor driven stab into the expansive, soft, and all-too accommodating virgin powder…the universal symbolism upon my sweating, heaving, driving body/mind/spirit not being lost to the rather obvious analogy; at times, the intensity of cardio work spurns sexual passion which of course is but an often sub-conscious, samskaric longing for an end to duality and a return to wholeness.
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