There was a time when you could go to any schoolyard and see kids being kids. Kids would run, leap, throw, and exert themselves with the pure joy of uncorrupted youth. They were suddenly realizing their bodies were incredible machines capable of precise, complex movements, and the games they played developed these capabilities. Dirt clod fights, epic dodgeball matches, and tetherball developed hand-eye coordination and agility; roughhousing that never graduated into enmity taught kids the value of a few bumps and bruises (as well as how to dish ‘em out); games like tag, capture the flag, and monkey in the middle emphasized foot speed, lateral agility, and rapid changes of direction. The teacher on yard duty might hand out a citation or break up a little scuffle once in awhile, but recess was generally pretty relaxed. About the only thing your average schoolyard athlete worried about was explaining away the grass stains, or maybe the scuffed knees. Looking back, we really had it good: unstructured play, impromptu workouts that didn’t feel like work but got us into great shape and developed our social skills. We were little Groks, cultivating our minds and bodies without actively planning a routine (or play date). It probably helped that we didn’t have Nintendo DS Lites or smart phones (or overbearing parents) to distract us, but the fact remains that we just were. A bit like Grok, we didn’t run and jump to get better at running and jumping; we ran and jumped because it was fun, because it simply felt like the right thing to do. Our athletic development was merely a bonus.
A while back, I gave a bit of Link Love to Nature’s Platform (thanks, NeoPaleo), a contraption that fits over regular toilets and allows users to squat instead of sit. I included it mainly for the laughs, a bit of tongue-in-cheek (no, not that cheek – the other one!) ribald humor that was somewhat relevant to the Primal lifestyle (because let’s face it, Grok was definitely a squatter), but then I got to thinking: maybe there really is something to squatting. At the very least, I owed it to our bowels to look a bit deeper into the subject, to try to get to the bottom of it, as it were.
We like to throw “Grok” around pretty liberally. It’s the name of our prototypical human ancestor, sure, but it’s also become a rallying cry of sorts: Grok on! What does it mean when we say “Grok on”? Do you know? Do I know? I have something in mind, but I’ve never really expounded on it in any detail. In fact, I’ve purposely left it ambiguous; to Grok is partly, I think, something very personal and subjective for each person.
What does the dictionary say (and what would it say if MDA was a household name?)
With hundreds of Primal haikus submitted yesterday you didn’t make it easy on me. In fact, I had such a difficult time awarding one winner that I’ve decided to chicken out and make you do it! I’ve boiled it down to my top 10 favorite Grokkus. Vote for your favorite below. The winner will receive 6 bars of each flavor of pemmican, original, honey and cherry free, and salt free (that’s 18 bars of meaty goodness).
This poll only lasts until 3 pm PST, so place your vote now!
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