Work your body, feed your soul.

Behind Eden's extravagantly wrought iron fence is Edan's compost heap. Where once you entered, light seemed to glimmer off the dew that appeared to be misted upon all the flora. Air as pure as the ancestral oxygen that first existed when the atmosphere was born. Nothing neared such perfection, nothing was so innately beautiful, as the first few steps into the garden. Until you walked it's entirety and approach the pile of organic remains, hot and wet in it's own decay.

Over the fence, the neighboring garden gradually become unkempt and overgrown. What was once the rose bed has evolved into a tangle of thorns. The life in the pond has been obscured by the blooms of algae turning the clear water murky. Time has a way of amplifying neglect, when such a beautiful place becomes forsaken the compost heap makes it's advance towards those beautiful picturesque gates that once coaxed us into a place of charm. The snails, more obvious now, leave behind a latticework of slime on the bench. The obnoxious crunch of leaves fills your auditory sense, drowning out the other physical sensations to behold.

Our bodies are this proverbial garden, we must tend to it daily. To reap the fruits we must sow the seeds. It's not about being superficial but to be optimal, to be at a humans peak performance. As a individual I hold this ideal in very high regard, it is a crucial value. I have vowed this half a hundred times to anyone who will hold me accountable: I will never let myself go. I will never give up on my body. I will not accept this physical laziness that embeds itself in other people's muscles, this parasitic trait that brings the archetype of vigor to it's knees.

At 14, I set my mind's eye on vrschikasana, the scorpion pose. Even before I dared to attempted it I felt the energy in my upper body, an exhilarating sense of a heart opener that has never left. 12 years later and never losing sight, I'm able to bend my backbone while supporting myself on my forearms. More than a decade later and I'm only beginning to grope at the partial expression of the full posture. This body of mine as taught me patience, resilience, and endurance. This pose is my most inspirational as well as the most humbling.

My journey into arm balances has changed me. I feel more forgiving of myself when I reach my limitations, I know when to hold back and when to go deeper. The line is pushed a little further every time until that fateful day when you finally breath into a pose and burst past the finish line like a Olympic sprinter. Inside stars are bursting and I'm high on that pure shit, that clean oxygen you can only get from breathing with your whole body.