With these words

These words are dangerously low in B12. 
They have no energy, no spark, no verve, and no vim. 
They are tired words. 
Drained words. 
Fatigued. 
Slow. 
These words lack balance and stumble often. 
These words trip and fall on the rug of ‘oh, shit.’ 
These words have fallen and they can’t get up.
These words are bugs on their backs, one jaded leg kicking. 
The antenna of these words is drooping. 
These words have lost the will to live. Did they have will? Was it ever free? 
The joie-de-vivre and playground skip of these words are locked in detention. 
The sails of these words are empty. 
These words are stuck in the doldrums. 
These words are shriveled by salt. Tenders punctured and flat, they bob in the slop like sad sea raisins. 
These words can’t get to the shops or lift a spoon to their mouth. 
These words can’t get out of bed. They cannot even blink their distress.
These words live in the past of their memory. 
“We were powerful words. Working words. Mighty fine words!” 
These words sit drained by the present. 
These are empty words. 
The battery of these words is dead. 

These words have no Vitamin D.
They are red alert, mega-deficient, "10,000 mcg, stat!", words.
These words are starved of light and overwhelmed by darkness. 
These words are pallid. 
Sickly. 
Bloodless.
The bones of these words are brittle and weak.
Vowel, consonant, letter, and alphabet: the whole skeleton of these words aches.
These words are engulfed by persistent pain coupled with a dull and nervous burn of cartilage and limb.
The extremities of these words are numb. They tingle. They bruise.
These words can barely lift themselves out of this hole. Noodle arms. Twiggy legs.
The hair from these words is falling out, drifting in a gentle float to a hard floor. 
These words are a tangled mess. They clog a bored and yawning drain.
The skin of these words is pale and delicate.
These words are locked in darkness, depressed and alone. 
These words are anxious. Their nerves—and nerve—are shot. 
The wounds of these words heal slowly. 
These words are prone to fracture. 
The backs of these words are broken. 

Supplement these words.

These words have more protein. 
They consume the recommended daily intake, in grams, from animal or plant. Nom nom nom.  
These words are primed and taut, amped and charged. They are lifting heavy. They are adding more plates.  
The muscles of these words are up for it. The arm wrestle of right and wrong, of conscience and consciousness, of banality and joy.
They stir and scrap, tussle and spar. 
These words are pinning down truth on the grey space grappling mat between reality and fantasy. 
These words are chowing down on chicken that struts in open air.
The strength of these words is enhanced by the wild-caught salmon of the Sea of Tranquility.
These words are natty. 
Organically raised.
Brawny.
Powerful.
These words have above average grip strength.
These words hold tight. 
The fast twitch fiber of these words is full tilt, head on, no fear.  
These words are growing. They are twisting the energy from every calorie like water from a rag.
Jacked. 
Stacked. 
Built.
These words?
These words are pumped!

These words are rich in calcium. 
They are full fat and creamy. 
The teeth of these words bite and tear and chew and eviscerate. They pick out the seeds and discard to the wind. 
These words are yoked on the omelets of eggheads.  
These words are foundational. They are adding universal rebar to support heavy loads. They are building moments and movements, not monuments.
These words tickle nerves to action. 
These words say cheese.
These words clear mind fields.
These words bone up and add balance.
These words reach for things on higher shelves.
These words are rich with goodness.
These words do not cramp. 
These words fortify. 
These words supplement and support those other words. 
These words?
These words lead the way. 

Supplement these words. 

Eat courageous Vegemite.
Have a revolutionary sardine.
Chug a glass of fight milk.
Tear a leaf from empathy kale.
Gorge on resistance rib eye.
Consume meaning in your daily diet.  

With these words, we will become a better body. 

*

Speaking of Artemis (albeit indirectly with my Sea of Tranquility reference from above), here are some wallpapers from NASA from that incredible mission. I watched the reentry of the mission live on YouTube and got all emoshhhh when the red chutes fired.

This week’s amends…

Five Remembrances
I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape having ill health.

I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

Based on the Upajjhatthana Sutta

On Rotation: “All the Tired Horses” by Bob Dylan.

How AM I supposed to get all this riding/writing done?!

A reminder that all songs featured in this newsletter over the years are added to the giant mega super playlist of magnificents and magnificence which you can access with an effortless depress of this button. 👇

Photographer, Chris Perani, takes extreme closeups of flappy things called insect wings. Like this one. This is Colossal sheds some light on the project and process. The bug images on Perani's site are also INSANE.

Via Fave 5

Classic.

Shameless Podcast Plug

Listen to audio versions of The Stream on my podcast, Field of Streams, available on 👉 all major podcasting platforms 👈

Here’s Apple