Rituals of Strength

The rituals of strength, the smell of the dew on the grass before the sun has risen, the cool darkness of morning, it is worship.  The early morning alarm sound jolting fuzzy awareness from the warmth of sleep, the sound of water running in the sink, brushing teeth, making coffee, wanting to go back to bed, it is worship.  Moving the joints, stretching the limbs, increasing the flow of blood, the pumping of the heart, the sound of breath, it is worship.  First pull, first lift, first swing, first sprint, it is worship.  It is so early, so many people are still asleep, or dragging themselves into the shower, here on the field we sweat, we grunt, we doubt ourselves and our ability but we continue to move, to push, to pull, to lift, to throw...the sun begins to spray the first rays of light across the horizon, it is worship.  Covered in sweat, gasping for breath, body trembling, fully awake in ways beyond the boundaries of consensus reality, alive, really alive, really alive and breathing and human and aware and so fucking thankful to be awake, aware, alive...it is worship.  The rituals of strength.