Practicing Plain Text

We eat bananas.

No, we don't just eat bananas, we Eat Bananas. En masse foodstuffs travel traceur-fast through our kitchen-space--lucky to keep a tub of yogurt twelve hours after it was bought in the first place! Goodbye pears, apples, granola, and cheese; you have no chance with hungry monkeys such as these. Dairy? We really should own a farm, for the milk spilling uninturrupted into our muzzles--(Do monkeys have muzzles?)--and so much sausage comes and goes that dinner is sausage--don't laugh! It's true:

Him: I'm still so hungry tonight...
Me: It's because you didn't have sausage yet, did you?

Rumpled packages from sweet-and-spicy tea, onion skins, cheese dust, and frozen berry drippings all spot the countertops during neccessary food-frenzies. [Monkee House living comes complete with empty jars, tubs, and milk jugs galore!] Oh the yougurt--the yogurt!--it's something we just can't store. Four-five-or-more hungry bodies to feed--feuling catleaps and wallpasses, dips, pushes, lifts, and swings. Jumping, juggling, running, fighting--that's play-fighting, 'cause we're peacable, even being raw--and whatever else catches fancy that may prove acceptably challenging to take on--Rraaahhh! Bring us beefy-beef-beef soup and broccoli; carrots and avacados and eggs and honey...

We're so hungry we feast on our fears--and have, and will, for the rest of our years.

We feed for late nights and busy days, building boxes and community, discovering new ways--of living together and working for fun, supporting each other training alone together as one. Who ever thought a home could be grown of adults who are children with a serious need to play, so much that it permeates each moment, each day? Each flop onto furniture when too tired to want to move--but only because the opposite of that was, just earlier, so true. And tomorrow it will be just as true all again, so we'll buy more bananas, because it's not going to end.

Exsistence of the Humanest

This isn't the first time I've not tried to stop myself from ranting, carried away in the righteous cadence of my thoughts. It is not for me to declare annoyance with that which is different--beyond my understanding--as I've ignorance just as that which irks me so.

But, I'm so not better than anyone else. Not elite, superior, nor besting any of my race.
--This isn't a race!

Parkour is to be trained to help others, not to lord our fitness and abilities over them. Comments about sheeple, "the weaker", our fellows as prey...This mindset does not advance our spirits, but sets us morally backwards. Imagine, being dismissed for a different way of life, for following practices that you'd never chosen, but had shoved into your mind and physical existence through endless medias of misinformation. Shame to utter survival of the fittest as if only we know the truth, when it just isn't true any more. Rather, I'd see leading by the fittest, protection by the fittest. Yes, I would that every person in a protect and serve position was an active athlete. That I could be sure if I were running, I would be caught. But because this isn't true, I don't give up on them, muttering, "Oh, they're behind on their bodies and would just never survive, (if it really came down to it, in this distant supposition in my brain.)" A cop-out on society if ever there was one. What good training the 'strong' to be stronger and leave the 'weak' to waste away when what makes us humane is the vast diversity in which we come? What good is knowing ourselves while refusing to acknowledge all types? If the 'fittest' were the only to 'survive', I'd be well and truly dead as an infant, suffocated by my own treacherous lungs. Instead, because some brains were mightier than brawn, I had a chance, to pit myself against an upbringing of fast-food and seated entertainment, the temptations of inhibiting substances, the arrogances of those who seemed to appear without struggle to succeed in everything physical. Yes, hard work is done by all those mighty bodies, I discredit none for their perseverance, willpower, and self motivation, but if I believed that only the self-motivated are meant to succeed, I'd be forgetting myself years ago and do no justice to so many I meet today. When creating ourselves as strong, capable bodies comes so naturally, it is difficult to imagine not being this way. Easy to dismiss bad habits as laziness, or unwillingness, to change. But what people who 'aren't there yet' need isn't disgust from anyone else, but full support in the immensely difficult journey it may be to change. Is it so crazy to think that, sometimes, people don't know where or how to start? Ignorance is no crime, is not a disease, is not exclusive but inclusive to everyone, somehow. This is about choices, knowing that they're there, how to make them, and how to find the strength to follow through.

I want humans to be active, fit, and playful. I proceed as if that day of survival-of-the-most-prepared/adaptable/knowledgeable/fit will come within my lifetime, but I also acknowledge what is going on right now. Guess what? Every tenth of those obesity statistics is derived from some individual--a thinking, feeling, human. I should hope compassion is beyond no-one.

Parkour is a word. We are people. And practicing our movement alone doesn't make us better if we're unwilling to apply it to the most difficult task; helping others--really helping, not telling nor preaching to them--to find themselves as we have, as striving, vibrant bodies and minds. Supporting mankind as a whole is not beyond traceurs; nothing is.

/rant

-MonkEE