The ‘fitness’ that’s for sale –
full of connotations, misconceptions,
hasn’t made the world any more fit.

“Working out”,
is not working out
for the billions of us who want to feel good,
but just feel bad, while looking into
the mouth of a “culture”
that makes a FUCKTON of $$$
from our feeling not good 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.

Actual fitness is dead. And its only chance,
is for us to breathe life back into it.
Less “What is your new PR, girl?” & more
feeling the kiss of the earth with our feet.
Listening to the trees. Smelling the breeze.
Unplugging… in order to reconnect.
Chucking or swinging or lifting or musing —
on strange, dense objects. Carrying heavy shit!
Dancing with the hills or playing out in the rain.
Sprinting in the sand or making poetry
on some lines 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 operates 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 you can walk or jump or climb or hang
or lay or dance. Squatitate. Or do some Feldy.
Or load up a bar for some deadlifts. Here we are,
the ridly tonic of being. Ask questions. Notice.
Cogitate. Throw expectations to the wind. Madly,
mirthfully: just fucking whatever! And quit thinking
you have to pay someone to
feel good about what’s happening.