Two Desires at the Same Time: How Internal Ambiguity Actually Works

Epigraph

“Choice to the means”.

Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, III.2, 1111b; an excerpt from the English translation by W. D. Ross. The passage distinguishes the desired end, about which one can daydream endlessly, from the concrete chosen action, which actually carries a price tag, but it does not demand that we automatically chuck one desire out the window for the sake of the other.

What This Article Is About

Picture a hypothetical scenario: you receive a tempting job offer in another city. Your soul spreads its wings for a career leap—right up until you remember the loved ones, settled routine, and beloved couch you would leave behind. Think about the career, and moving feels obvious; turn to your family, and staying looks like the only right move. Your attention bounces back and forth like an erratic ping-pong ball, and the internal prosecutor immediately chimes in: “If you are a functioning, well-adjusted adult, why won't the other voice just shut up? Are you spineless?” Ambiguity is promptly branded a personal defect and a character flaw.

Yet in reality, you aren't housing two secret personalities, a clinical disorder, or “one true dream buried under layers of false illusions”. You simply have two independent, deeply significant interests. They may aim at entirely different goods, hinge on different timelines, demand different tools, and threaten different consequences. This article is no magic wand promising a “loss-free option” or turning the mess of reality into a sterile formula. We simply aim to untangle the knot: name things plainly, locate exactly where your goals step on each other's throats, and see what can be adjusted in the setup of the choice itself. The choice remains yours. A solid understanding does not guarantee that doubt will vanish, but it may help you stop waging war against the very fact of its existence.

I. Two Statements Can Be True About One Person

“I want to move” and “I want to stay” sound like a blatant logical contradiction only if you try jamming both options into the exact same calendar date and a single geographic coordinate. In this hypothetical scene, they may aim at distinct values: professional advancement versus daily human warmth; a change of scenery versus a reliable haven; thirst for the unknown versus attachment to your people. Concrete actions on a given Tuesday may exclude each other, but the value of both goods does not evaporate. Acknowledging this means dropping an absurd demand: as if a responsible adult is obligated to demonstratively fall out of love with and devalue everything that didn't fit into today's immediate decision.

Here is an illustrative picture: you read the contract, eyes glowing at the fascinating tasks. A couple of hours later, you sit with an aging parent and physically feel how vital it is to stay close. Neither reaction exposes the other as a fraud or a lie. Each highlights its own slice of reality. It makes sense to write down both formulations while they are fresh, rather than rebuilding your entire identity around whichever emotion washed over you last. This is not a test of character strength, but a way to keep facts from getting washed out of memory. And it lets you check: are you frightened of leaving in principle, or of the specific clauses in the offered contract?

The deadlock usually begins when we inflate desires into cosmic slogans. “Freedom” declares war on “Family,” even though upon inspection “freedom” might just mean not having to clear every minor move, while “family” means being physically present at a couple of key dinners a month. Precise phrasing does not guarantee that everything will magically click into place, but it at least makes it testable. Could the role allow a flexible schedule? Or is physical on-site presence strictly non-negotiable every single day, and the commute impossible? You cannot extract a work schedule from grand ideological banners. Until tasks are broken down into details, you are just slamming pretty abstractions together; the structure of the real conflict has not even been established yet.

Recognizing both desires does not mean they weigh precisely the same on the scale. One may take priority right now, another may ache sharply in your chest, and a third factor may push a rigid deadline. Emotional intensity, fundamental significance, and urgency are three distinct things, and they do not automatically align. You can desperately want to drop onto a beach and still sit down to finish a burning obligation whose collapse would ruin your reputation. Or you can consider a long-term goal your life's purpose while spending today methodically securing basic safety. These distinctions do not hand down a “correct” verdict in advance. They merely offer a clear vocabulary for talking to yourself without toxic self-reproach just because different corners of life demand your attention at once.

II. First, Find the Point of Collision

In their 2017 review, researchers Julia Gorges and Axel Grund distinguish between conflict over limited resources and the incompatibility of means or end states (resource vs. inherent conflict). Along the way, the authors candidly show how diverse and inconsistent scientific definitions and measurement methods in this field actually are. This is a theoretical map for orientation, not a diagnostic label stamped onto an ambivalent person's forehead, nor an ironclad guarantee that any practical exercise will work. The review's conceptual and methodological frameworks were consulted for this purpose, not specific empirical trials treated as personal fortune-telling.

Consider two everyday situations. First: you want to cram for an exam and you want to hang out with friends. If time is short, this is a clean resource bottleneck in your schedule. You might adjust the duration, move the meetup, or trim your study prep—even if that isn't always feasible. The second situation is fundamentally different: you want to spill someone's secret in juicy detail while simultaneously keeping your sworn promise to keep quiet. Here, adding a twenty-fifth hour to the day changes nothing—the act either violates the promise or it doesn't. You have to deal with rights, commitments, and the boundaries of personal accountability. Internal tension may feel equally wretched in both instances, but the underlying mechanics of the problem and the ways of handling it are radically different. Do not confuse the resource-versus-inherent axis with the distinction between a cognitive construct of conflict and a directly experienced instance.

Quite often, an entire impasse rests on a single stubborn method of action. Someone deeply values a friendship, but fervently believes the only proof of love is a weekly four-hour slog on a commuter train; meanwhile, the travel leaves them completely exhausted. If both parties are willing to rethink the format, part of the problem may shift. But if in this specific friendship physical presence across the table is the decisive element, a hollow substitute in a chat app will fall flat. Re-evaluating means must preserve the core of the need, rather than replacing it with an empty box-ticking convenience. What exactly does that face-to-face meetup sustain, and can an alternative channel deliver the same thing? Without an honest answer, penny-pinching on time risks losing the very thing the connection was maintained for.

Try completing the sentence: “Acting on the first desire breaks the second right here…”. Where exactly is the crunch? In money, calendar hours, a pledge, geography, another person's consent, or irreversible fallout? If you cannot locate the point of collision, you might just be meditating on two abstract ideals that do not actually require a knife fight right now. If the point is found, you can work with it. That said, having two competing goals does not oblige you to open a ledger detailing every psychological friction from the past decade. A practical distinction belongs to a single situation and exists to serve action. It loses all utility if you start sniffing out hidden conflict in every cup of coffee, convinced you aren't allowed to live until the entire universe has been cataloged.

III. Desiring an Outcome and Choosing an Action Are Different Steps

Aristotle, back in Book III.2 of the Nicomachean Ethics, carefully teased apart what we wish for (the end) from what we decide upon (choice to the means). This is historical normative action theory, not a contemporary clinical protocol or a psychological questionnaire. We draw on this distinction for basic mental hygiene: to keep from mistaking any powerful craving for an actionable blueprint. The capacity to desire is always broader than the ability to execute, and applying this ancient insight to our daily lives is a conscious comparison, not dogma.

In our hypothetical example, one can genuinely admire a job opening and still firmly reject relocation under the current terms. Passing on a particular offer does not mean you have abandoned your profession or buried your ambitions. You might wait for another opening, angle for a different role, or negotiate the terms. The reverse also happens: the proposal is compelling enough that you pack your bags, carrying with you the very real possibility of homesick sadness. In both cases, the chosen action is far more specific than the wish: it comes with dates, price tags, and real-world consequences. Saying “I choose this option under these conditions” is vastly more honest than attempting to convince yourself that only one pure, unadulterated desire remains inside you.

Meanwhile, reality is under no obligation to indulge our daydreams: imagined options do not always exist in nature. Remote work, which you so sweetly fantasized about, might simply have been left out of the contract (or explicitly denied), travel costs might be exorbitant, and the deadline to reply down to a couple of days. Talk about searching for alternative means should never create an illusion of limitless freedom. First inspect the real ground, then separate available paths from those painted by wishful thinking. The thought “it would be great if the terms were different” is totally valid, but it doesn't rewrite the agreement. If negotiations are realistic, lay out your terms. If they aren't, the conflict narrows down to picking between available consequences. Laying out the situation clearly does not diminish the gravity of the choice, nor does it guarantee immunity from self-deception.

Separating daydream from decision also guards against hasty agreements. You can openly acknowledge an idea's appeal without clamping on the yoke of commitment that very second. “It’s a great concept; I need time to evaluate the terms” preserves breathing room to gather facts. The flip side is not turning your own internal ambiguity into a perpetual holding pattern for everyone else. If other people are organizing their plans around your answer, your deadline and clarity have direct ethical weight. Honesty isn't just rummaging through your feelings; it's also what you communicate to partners. Harboring internal conflict does not grant a license to promise incompatible things to three different people, only to bat your eyes later and plead a sensitive, multifaceted nature.

IV. Sometimes Different Timelines Are in Conflict

“I want to collapse and do nothing” and “I want to ship the finished project” can look like sworn enemies if you ignore timing; sometimes they genuinely compete. One desire screams about this evening, while the other targets results next month. Lump them together, and the real picture vanishes. It helps to clarify: how much time does each action demand, when will the fallout hit, and what happens if schedules shift? Often enough they line up sequentially: an honest, short rest right now, followed by focused work tomorrow morning. Other times, schedules genuinely sabotage each other. Factoring in time won't add hours to the day, but it may help you avoid labeling yourself with “chronic procrastination” when you just needed a realistic schedule.

A common scene: someone dreams of speaking a foreign language fluently, yet every evening ends up glued to a screen. This could be a basic need to decompress after work, not proof that the educational goal is bogus. If study sessions are perpetually shoved into the ninety minutes before bed when the brain is shutting down, the schedule deserves its own audit. Are there different slots, smaller steps, a more realistic horizon? Then again, sometimes another truth surfaces: the person loves the glamorous image of being multilingual, but has no intention of choosing the grind of grammar drills and vocabulary decks. That too is useful information to register without self-flagellation. Neither poor scheduling nor faded interest should be declared guilty in advance—look at your actual track record of actions.

Another chronological snare is trying to have it both ways: preserving total flexibility while demanding a reputation for rock-solid dependability. Loitering in an endless “I haven’t decided yet” is wonderful for personal autonomy, but it can erode trust. The cost of stalling is built into the choice itself. You can agree on a hard deadline, state provisional readiness, or set strict boundaries around your commitment. But no guarantee exists that other people's patience will stretch indefinitely to fit your pace. Your need for freedom does not cancel out someone else's time. The whole point of an agreement is to make the boundaries of waiting visible, not to dump the entire burden of your uncertainty onto someone else.

A temporary arrangement can be an entirely appropriate move. For instance, you agree: we live in this mode for the next three months, and then we evaluate. But the real conditions here are paramount: is there a clear exit ramp, and what will a revision cost everyone involved? If the contract is legally or practically irreversible, and the exit cost is ruinous, slapping on the label “we’re just testing the waters” doesn't make it a safe trial. You must strictly separate an innocuous experiment from a high-stakes bind. This applies to internal dialogue as well: telling yourself “I'm choosing this for now” removes unnecessary finality, but it doesn't erase facts. A solid temporary solution doesn't conceal its price behind the word “temporary,” nor does it require you to declare your current working compromise your eternal essence.

V. Sometimes a Desire Clashes with the Image of a Good Person

The internal parliament convenes with extra hostility when a moral facade is attached to each scale. Two promotional billboards of character unfold before us: on one stands the “Devoted Keeper of the Hearth” (the one who stayed); on the other, the “Fearless Trailblazer” (the one who left). Suddenly, an ordinary job decision escalates into a holy war over “Who am I at my core?” Yet a specific action rarely sums up an entire human being. You can leave and continue to offer dedicated care; you can stay and pursue personal goals. Slogans about loyalty and courage are no substitute for examining actions. It pays to ask what concrete obligations and risks are actually on the line, rather than staring spellbound at the billboards.

In a hypothetical example, relatives insist that a “good daughter always stays close,” while trendy friends argue that a “mature adult always chooses themselves”. Both grand proclamations usually mask mundane questions: is actual help needed, what kind, how often, who else could step in, and what would this relocation actually do for the woman herself? Once abstractions yield to numbers and facts, the ethical drama grows more nuanced, but the actions become visible. You cannot declare from afar that all caretaking is codependency, or that self-assertion is always noble. A person has every right to value connections and personal horizons at the same time. Responsibility begins with facts, not with crowning the catchiest slogan in an imaginary debate.

If what terrifies you most is outside judgment, name that bluntly, too. What exactly are you anticipating: a heavy sigh, a screaming match, losing a financial lifeline, or public shaming? Facing an awkward conversation is one thing; facing a genuine threat to safety is something else entirely. A vulnerable position often ties your hands, and in such cases the breezy advice to “just sit down and tell them your truth” sounds tone-deaf, if not downright dangerous. Sometimes the first step isn't heroic speeches, but gathering intel, building a financial cushion, and securing a safe exit. This is an analysis of context, not a one-size-fits-all manual: where there is a risk of violence, professional support services and physical safety assessments are required, not a pretty exercise in radical candor.

Decoupling self-worth from a specific move doesn't turn you into a callous cynic. On the contrary: values are finally tested through practice. If care matters to you, what will you actually do on the ground? If autonomy is key, what risks are you prepared to shoulder alone, and how will you cover them? Such scrutiny can either reinforce your original impulse or flip it completely. It promises no standing ovations. But it lets you move away from competing for “Person of the Year” toward evaluating an action, its limits, and its costs—without guaranteeing clarity or anyone else's approval.

VI. Compromise Isn't Useful for Every Conflict

When desires fight over hours in the day, splitting the clock can sometimes save the day: part of the evening for work, part for socializing. But there is nothing inherently sacred about slicing things down the middle. If a task demands five hours of deep focus, two fragmented slices of two-and-a-half hours will not yield the same result. If an in-person meeting matters specifically on someone's actual birthday, bumping it to Wednesday changes its meaning. Any compromise is judged by its quality: did it preserve what was essential to both intentions, and is its price manageable? It can be a brilliant maneuver, a limping stopgap, or sheer nonsense. The buzzword alone guarantees no victory.

There are situations where compromise is outright destructive. You cannot split the difference by leaking half of someone's secret and smugly tell yourself you kept your word. You cannot dilute a lethal hazard with eloquent rhetoric about balancing risk and reward. If a situation calls for qualified medical care, legal expertise, or professional oversight, you cannot paper over it with an amateur pros-and-cons table. What you need is a strict inventory of participants' rights, actual hazards, and permissible actions. Harbouring two passionate desires does not endow every daydream with an equal right to exist. Other people's boundaries, the laws of physics, and finite resources constrain choice, no matter how intense the internal storm.

Sometimes a viable path lies in reshaping the format of both aspirations. Someone longs to master a difficult profession but isn't willing to wreck their evenings. Instead of a frantic sprint, they opt for a measured two-year track, openly acknowledging that the victory lap is deferred. That is a fine choice, provided the pacing holds up. But you cannot pass it off as identical to a fast start: what if the hiring window slams shut in six months? A third path must stand up to its own constraints. Its trap lies in flattering you with the illusion of “getting everything while paying for nothing”. It is precisely this promise of zero loss that warrants the sharpest skepticism: a third option is valuable not because it lets you dodge the word “choice,” but because of its real-world viability.

VII. Loss After a Choice Does Not Prove an Error

A real choice may leave behind a trail of regret for what was left behind. If both desires mattered to you, sadness is understandable, though not inevitable: one action simply cannot encompass two mutually exclusive realities. It does not follow, however, that every twinge of regret is therapeutic, useful, or bound to dissolve on its own. Regret can serve as a reminder of loss, but it does not in itself establish that the decision was a mistake. You can relocate, build a thriving career, and still miss your old neighborhood; you can stay put and mourn the missed leap. What needs auditing are the conditions, the consequences, and newly discovered facts. Demanding that one must “choose in such a way as to never feel regret” can paralyze decision-making by forbidding you from mourning unchosen paths.

A hypothetical example: a month after turning down the offer, photos of that team pop up on your feed—laptops, coffee, glowing smiles. Your stomach immediately sinks. It’s unpleasant, but that sensation does not automatically invalidate the reasons you said no. Perhaps living a five-hour flight from family remains unacceptable. Or perhaps new facts emerged at your current job that you had no idea about a month ago. Ask yourself: what are you looking at right now—new verifiable information, or just an emotional twinge from the sight of an unharvested crop? If fresh facts have emerged, sit down and review your plans (no one has banned course corrections). If it's just the memory of a value you held dear, acknowledge the grief without frantically scrambling to undo everything just to stop the momentary discomfort.

This brings us to personal integrity. Acknowledging your own loss doesn't mean strapping it onto your loved ones as an unpayable debt: “I sacrificed my glittering future for you, so now your full-time job is making me happy”. If the decision was yours within available alternatives, you have to carry its price yourself, without turning your partner or parents into lifelong hostages of your nobility. Obviously, if direct coercion, manipulation, or abuse occurred, the conversation is entirely different: not every action qualifies as a “free choice”. But within ordinary agreements, adults can state their deficits and renegotiate terms directly, without wielding old regret as a club to extract emotional reparations.

VIII. Ambiguity Can Be Held Until a Reasonably Clear Step Appears

Sometimes a situation doesn't require an immediate fist slammed on the table. You can calmly clarify terms, check deadlines, conduct talks, and keep both formulations in view. That is solid prep work so long as it yields new information. But endless mental rumination rarely turns up fresh facts. It pays to distinguish tracking down a genuinely missing puzzle piece from running the hundredth lap of the same internal argument. If all the parameters are known and every new comparison sheet merely swings your mood, it makes sense to set a firm deadline on deliberating. Such a boundary is a self-management tool, not a universal psychotherapeutic law, and it works only where the cost of delay actually allows for it.

Reasonable clarity has nothing to do with ironclad guarantees of absolute success. You can understand your core reasons, see the buy-in cost, and recognize the hazards without having the faintest idea how you will feel six months down the road. Every decision carries an honest share of uncertainty: “Based on what is known today, I am going this way; these areas remain blank”. If the blank spots are critical to life, pause or dig deeper. If they cannot be eliminated, weigh acceptable risk. No article can do this heavy lifting for you: it hinges on expert input, legal frameworks, physical safety, and the well-being of those who depend on you. Internal doubt can easily linger even after impeccable fact-finding, and that is no reason to dump ashes on your head or conclude you are a terrible analyst.

Returning to the opening offer: you may end up leaping to the new city, staying put, or negotiating custom terms. Clearheaded analysis does not predetermine the outcome. It simply helps you see that both your career drive and your need for closeness were genuine, while the specific conflict grew out of the unique setup of the offer. Once that happens, the action finds its proper scale. It does not have to obliterate the second desire or chisel your value hierarchy in stone for eternity. You can assume commitments, take responsibility for their consequences, and adjust course when circumstances change. A human being is always infinitely more complex than any single decision they make.

IX. Two Interests Can Support Each Other in a Different Form

Fixated on a head-on collision, we frequently miss how goals can quietly sustain one another. An energizing job can provide financial stability to care for loved ones; warm family ties can support learning; timely rest can aid recovery. These are not cosmic laws of universal harmony, but very down-to-earth connections in real lives. There is no need to twist them into a sugary pretext to swallow any absurd compromise. But it is worth asking: which part of one aspiration can support the other, and which part actually trips it up? When you do, the conflict loses its apocalyptic aura and becomes a bounded problem that can be discussed without chasing fairy-tale perfection.

In a hypothetical example, a parent is torn between playing guitar and spending time with their child. During band practice, these activities are incompatible. Yet sometimes music can become a point of connection—provided both genuinely enjoy it and the format suits the child's age. Naturally, this does not replace the parent's focused creative work, nor does it obligate the child to share that passion. It simply shows that in different forms, goals behave differently. You might preserve separate solo rehearsals, dedicated childcare hours, and carve out a small shared zone between them. Or you might discover the child cannot stand the guitar, meaning no overlap is possible. The inquiry must permit that negative answer; otherwise, family time turns into an imposition where a child is treated as a prop to soothe parental guilt.

There is also quiet mutual support in scaling back ambitions. Trimming a bloated project down to realistic proportions can carve out breathing room for both work and personal life. That maneuver, of course, has a price: income, timelines, or output quality may change. You cannot pretend that a pared-down version is identical to an all-out blitz just because it feels cozier. You have to state clearly: this part we saved, and that part went on the back burner. Such an arrangement may fit the current season of life, without demanding that you denounce your big dream as a youthful blunder. Its time may come later when resources line up; or it may not.

This perspective keeps you from pinning a tragic label on yourself: “I am a tormented soul, forever torn between two worlds”. Words like “always” and “never” need checking against specific facts. Today's contract forces a trade-off; tomorrow's prospects might look entirely different. At the same time, certain limits are permanent, and no verbal acrobatics will dissolve them. Mature thinking holds both realities: life can offer alternative configurations, yet a given choice may still come with tangible loss. Exploring mutual support expands your view of the field, but it does not abolish the conflict or promise a cosmic prize for clever thinking.

What This Means in Practice

Within one specific situation and strictly voluntarily, write down your two conflicting desires separately. Give each a complete, standalone sentence, without hedging with “what I actually want is...”. Next to each, note what underlying good it serves and what concrete action you already envision. Do not pin moralistic labels on them, branding one as “infantile indulgence” and the other as “mature duty”. Wanting to relocate for a major project and wanting to stay for human warmth are both legitimate entries entitled to sit on the table. This exercise makes no claims to pristine objectivity; its modest goal is to help you see your own framing and correct distortions if your description turned out to be inaccurate.

Point your finger directly at the collision point. Exactly which calendar date, bank balance, non-negotiable obligation, incompatible action, or simple “the other party says no” prevents you from combining the two? Separately, list the things you still lack verified data on. If you haven't seen the actual contract text, send an inquiry to HR instead of sitting through a hundredth meditation on “Freedom vs. Duty”. If hours on the calendar clash, work on your scheduling. If commitments and rights are at stake, sort out what is permissible and what is not. Where significant medical, legal, or professional risks are present, turn to qualified professionals: keeping a journal does not substitute for clinical protocols, legal counsel, or physical safety measures.

Now, without unnecessary melodrama, assess a single workable option, taking a hard look at its price tag for both desires and all stakeholders. Do not crown any newly discovered third route as a “loss-free solution” until you have checked its fine print. If a decision is due, state its grounds, its deadline, and what you are consciously letting go of right now. If the decision is paused, specify what facts are missing and the outer limit of how long you can wait. Crucially: you can stop this practice at any moment if it descends into self-reproach and offers no clarity. Walking away from drawing charts does not make you irresponsible, and clarity is not obligated to arrive on command.

Once the action is taken, don't run around with a thermometer checking: “Well, did the second desire finally die?” Look at the factual consequences. Are agreed-upon terms being met? Have critical new variables surfaced? What needs ongoing support? Feeling regret is entirely legitimate, and revising plans is too, but neither is required to clock in on a schedule. The point of this effort is to take a reasonably clear next step where both interests are named honestly and the actual price isn't glossed over with fake optimism. Internal harmony is never guaranteed. Sometimes a working stance sounds straightforward: “Both matter to me; right now I choose this path, fully aware that the one I left behind was valuable too”.

Key Quote

“Resource vs. inherent conflict”.

Julia Gorges, Axel Grund, 2017, abstract of “Aiming at a Moving Target”; an editorial excerpt of the formula from the abstract. The terms capture a conceptual distinction in the scientific review; the quoted formula names this distinction, but is not a medical or psychological diagnosis.

Connections Between Traditions

Comparison	Shared Question and Boundary
Goal conflict review ↔ everyday clash of desires	Useful for dissecting the specific mechanics of an obstacle; academic definitions and measurement tools remain quite diverse.
Aristotle ↔ desire and decision	Wishing for an end and choosing a means are distinct steps; an ethical treatise does not serve as an off-the-shelf motivation test.
Planning ↔ moral responsibility	Calendar maneuvers help with time deficits, but do not justify breaking a promise or trampling another's rights.
Acknowledging loss ↔ reconsideration	Regret can serve as a reminder of an unchosen path's value; conditions, consequences, and new information also matter when reconsidering.

This is an author-created comparison map, not a universal law of nature or a promise of therapeutic healing.

Primary Sources

Gorges J., Grund A. Aiming at a Moving Target, 2017. Frontiers in Psychology 8:2011, DOI 10.3389/fpsyg.2017.02011 (Department of Psychology research group, Bielefeld University, according to publication details). Read for the abstract, theoretical distinctions, and associated methodological measurement limitations; individual primary empirical studies were not examined separately, and the review as a whole is not used as a personal forecast. Licensed under CC BY; authors and original publication are properly credited. The review does not demonstrate the clinical efficacy of our practice.
Aristotle. Nicomachean Ethics, Book III, translation by W. D. Ross. Read for passages III.1–2 on voluntariness and deliberate choice; used strictly for the narrow distinction between ends and means. This is historical normative ethics, not a clinical guide, legal code, or everyday doctrine of total control over everything; ancient views on victims, social status, and punishments are not carried over into modern practice.

About the Authors

Andrey Zarinsh — author and founder of the United Wisdom project. Explores themes of internal transformation, the unity of traditions, intercultural dialogue, and contemporary spiritual discipline. Instagram: @andrey.zarinsh.

Maria Evilkut — co-author of United Wisdom. Alongside research, she seeks to test these ideas in practice and observe how principles of unity and mutual understanding operate in real life between people and cultures. Instagram: @ilkutki.