The earth isn’t a metaphor - it’s a circuit. Bare feet close the loop that shoes broke. Modern man wears rubber and wonders why he’s anxious. The cure is under him, not in him.

When did “mental health” become a subscription model?

Coconut oil Sun-fed fat that forgives heat. Rich in lauric acid, caprylic, medium-chain fuel. Kills microbes, feeds cells, burns clean. Smells like calm power. Humans used it for food, hair, fire, skin. Preserved everything from wood to wounds. Tropical survival toolkit in one shell. Now bleached, deodorized, fractionated, and “scientifically improved.” They fear saturated fat but inject plastic. The lab imitates the tree — poorly. You can’t outformulate sunlight.

They call raw milk “dangerous” but inject kids with patented proteins. The cow’s milk fed every generation before refrigeration. Now it’s banned for “safety.” Safe from what - life itself?

Salt isn’t the enemy. It’s the spark. Without it, nerves die and muscles forget their job. The only thing “low sodium” helps is the profits of pill companies.

Liver, heart, tongue - real multivitamins. The ancestors ate them first, not last. Now people swallow synthetic pills and gag at the real thing. Cowards can’t digest truth.

The sun fed every ancestor you have. Now it’s a “hazard” managed by billion-dollar lotion dealers. They turned the source of life into a PR villain - “UV danger,” “SPF protection,” “anti-aging defense.” What they don’t mention: the skin burns because the diet is junk and the cells are weak, not because the star hates you. People marinate in seed oils, hide indoors all winter, then smear plastic on their face and call it “self-care.” Their skin can’t even tell noon from neon. The irony? Most of those creams block vitamin D, disrupt hormones, and cause the very cancers they claim to prevent. But the bottle looks clean, the label says “dermatologist-approved,” and that’s all the herd needs. The primal body doesn’t fear the sun - it’s built by it. Fat, minerals, and real food make the best SPF on Earth. If the sun kills you, your diet got there first.

No pill fixes what the moon regulates. You can’t out-hack a body that just wants dark, cold, and quiet. Rest isn’t luxury - it’s repair time. Even lions know when to stop pretending they’re productive.

If disease is random, why does it follow lifestyle like a shadow?

One melts with warmth, the other with shame.

Phenoxyethanol Perfumed antifreeze with a PR team. Cooked from phenol and ethylene oxide. Industrial solvent repackaged as “gentle preservative.” Petrochemical birth, synthetic death. Numbs nerves, disrupts hormones, hits liver. Infant toxic at doses that fit in lotion. Still “dermatologist approved.” Approving what, exactly? In creams, wipes, “natural” serums, even baby oils. Sold as safer than parabens — marketing Sudoku. Your moisturizer’s expiry date costs your mitochondria. Safety is a slogan, not a standard.

Food used to heal. Now healing comes in capsules with slogans. Powdered broccoli isn’t nutrition - it’s marketing. If your diet needs a barcode, your problem isn’t deficiency - it’s dependency.

You can’t store life in poison. Water remembers its prison. People sip microplastic cocktails and call it “hydration.” That’s not health - it’s slow recycling. ♻️

The modern world treats sleep like a subscription plan - pay monthly with caffeine and hope for updates. People brag about being “too busy to sleep” as if exhaustion is a badge of honor, not a sign of decay. They install blackout curtains, mouth tape, magnesium sprays, melatonin gummies - everything but discipline. It’s the same circus that sells “biohacking” while ignoring the first law of life: dark, quiet, cold, early. The body doesn’t need optimization. It needs obedience to light and rhythm. The brain still thinks it’s in a cave. Your blue-lit bedroom confuses it into thinking it’s noon in Las Vegas. So it keeps cortisol high, testosterone low, and thoughts loud enough to drown instinct. Then you wake up, scroll, and repeat - a ritual of digital jet lag disguised as productivity. Sleep is not optional maintenance. It’s the nightly reboot that keeps the species from turning into software. He who breaks the sun’s rhythm breaks himself.