The ‘fitness’ for sale
hasn’t made the world
any more fit.

“Working out” isn’t
for us who want to feel well,
in a culture that capitilizes
on our feeling always
not well enough.

So we try harder.
Which doesn’t help.
Because trying harder only reinforces the idea
that we’re not where we should be.
Which is insane! Because we’ll never
do anything well,
if we’re not at home where we are.

Fitness… is dying.
And its only chance, is for us
to breathe softly through our noses
and let it return.
Less “What is your new PR, girl?”, more
feeling the kiss of the earth with our feet.
Less huffing, puffing, comparing, judging, more
listening to the trees; being tickled by the breeze.
Unplugging… in order to reconnect.

Picking up and carrying heavy shit!
Dancing with the hills or
playing out –> in the rain
Sprinting in the sand
or making poetry
on some course of our own design: in the open air.
Long Hair No Hair Blue Hair DON’T CARE!
Strolling.
Not striving.

To hell with entities that prosper
from our learning to feel helpless
in a society
which seems to operate under a cloud of guilt.

Our response can be simple
yet rebellious; and sweet.
Let’s not overthink it.
Make our own gyms — in the garage…
or in the backyard, or at the park;
or wherever we can walk or jump or climb
or hang or lay or dance.
Or squatitate.
Or do some Feldy.
Or load up a bar for some deadlifts.
Whatever it is it doesn’t matter.
We’re it. Relax.
The ridly tonic of being
is upon us.

Drop the pebble.
Ride the wave.

Zenso