I work in a very long, narrow two-story government building. The cubicle is sometimes cell, sometimes cloister. Like the mind. Spinal compression, unlike 401k plans, compounds faithfully. When the back groans too much I get up, walk about. I walk from one end of the building to the other purposefully. There should be no other way to walk when at work. The gray halls are adorned with colorful framed prints meant to motivate: “Commitment –…

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