The ‘fitness’ that’s for sale –
full of connotations,
& backasswardness –
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 running ourselves
into the mouth of a “culture” that capitilizes
on 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 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 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 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. Ask questions. Notice. Wonder. Energize.
Throw expectations to the madhouse. Mirthfully!
And quit thinking you have to pay someone
to feel good about what’s happening. Zenso.