The Josh Lynott Project

Recorded: December 10th, Melbourne.

I look around and I see a man out the front of the cafe in a pair of high-mileage running shoes and I think to myself “I wonder if he runs.” I walk the same street most mornings, always passing the same Mulberry tree to see if there are any ripe berries for me to pick. I smile at the woman who walks past it at the same time and say “We need to get a ladder, all the good ones are at the top.” It makes me think of the wild blackberries in Portugal and Tasmania and how they’re the perfect ‘pick-me-up’ when I’m on a long run. I put my music in and debate with myself if I should listen to the world around me or to a curated “chill-house-cloudy-morning” playlist. I conclude there is no right answer, there never really is. Most of the time, I’m out walking in my running shoes. If my shoes had feelings, I’m sure they’d smile when I went running I take them running. What about the days when running shoes were called “Sand shoes” or “Sneakers” or “Tennis shoes”? I never played tennis in my running shoes but now that I don’t own tennis shoes, I suppose I’d have no other choice. Shredding the sole and tipping my tendons onto the edge of oblivion. 

Every-time I see another runner across the street, I smile. I love to see people embrace an activity and a practice that I enjoy so much. I am so curious what there routine was before they left the house and what they said to their partner, house-mate, or pet when they returned home.

A lot to think about and not much at all.

Guest:

Joe Westood

Poem: "Results aren’t everything, indeed they’d better not be because results always come later - and later is always too late."

Recorded: December 2nd, 2024

Location: Manly, NSW

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Poem:

Doing too much,

too soon.

You ran yourself into the ground.

instead of a long it,

across it.

If only you listened,

to the part of you who wanted to move slow.

You would be there by now,

instead,

you're running

to catch up.

Recorded:  26th November, 2024

Location: Launceston, Tasmania

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

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Guest: Oliver Zafiridis

Josh's Poem:

Mostly, it comes back to space;

sometimes, it's obvious to us,

and rarely do we have enough of it.

Space is a luxury,

and often we need to make space to realise its importance.

It comes in many different forms;

physical space is the most tangible and easy to grasp.

We think of our homes, bedrooms,

workplaces, cafes, mountain tops, and city parks.

They're easy to access (and easy to clutter).

But we can go smaller,

like the gap between our big toe and the top of our shoe.

The space between our pumpkin

and the top of the oven.

What about the gap at the end of our bookshelf,

do we jam one more book in?

The spaciousness on the dash of an old car,

before there were screens,

and too many dials and buttons for heated seats -

it was ornate and gave us enough.

I could go on.

However,

I'm curious about the space that you create on your morning walk,

or deep in writing practice,

whilst cooking,

running,

anything that is counter-productive to a fast-paced world.

To do all these things,

takes up space -

in your calendar,

on a trail,

in someone else's world.

I want to know more about how it feels,

and what it feels like when the walls of your mind crumble,

when you don't

have space.

I wish I could tell you about the gift of space,

when you set a dinner table,

when you let someone else have theirs,

when you see people

breathe,

because they had space.

I like the space the different types of space,

one tap of the spacebar,

the return button,

the tab,

and my own.

Mostly, it’s clear to me

we need more space.

to give it,

to create it,

to sit with,

to share.

It's easy to do and create things that take up space,

and harder to do things that make space.

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Recorded: November 18th, Adelaide, South Australia.

The Poet's Lullaby.

Who sings the poet to sleep,

when the words don't stop dancing,

amongst a mind too soft for the pillow,

amongst a mind

cut too sharp

that couldn't

wouldn't

lay flat amongst the sheets of the navy sky.

There must be a lullaby for the poet's mind,

a bench to sit on behind closed eyelids,

to let dreams play,

unfurling and                                    recoiling,

nightmaring,

tip-    toeing

wandering the liminal space

between the subconscious mind and the future heart.

Can the poet fall asleep

tasting their own medicine

listening to the music they composed

toiling on the words that carved their foundations.

a lullaby surely soothes the soul of the cracked heart

pouring balm into the waterways

that broke free,

hoping to find love in other places

when the world stopped singing

Yet the poet,

malnourished by a world lacking feeling

starving for something real

seeks out the silence that follows a whisper

aching for a desert

desiring one instant

for time to freeze.

Give the poet nothing,

deprive them of everything

and only then will you hear,

the sweetest lullaby

beacuse it was deprivation,

that put the poet to sleep.

A world of stimulation,

killed the poet.

and

bled them dry,

of every

single

word.

Recorded:  Tuesday 12th of November, 2024

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

Register for my mentorship! ⁠⁠Fill it out the form here.⁠

Poem:

Only my friends know the colour

of sunrise

Blush

An asymmetry

Blush

My cheeks spoke in italics

The more they spoke

They don’t speak like this often,

We don’t know the answers to.

Recorded:  Sunday November 2nd of September, 2024

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

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Poem by Josh Lynott

You're obsessed with the wrongs things.

You're obsessed with the wrong things.

You're obsessed with what they want you to be.

You're obssesed with the marketing,

of who you could be,

of what could you be,

of the way you could be.

But You're none of these things.

You don't run like that.

You don't dress like that.

You don't talk like that.

You don't even smile, like that.

I wish you were honest,

an obsessed with something true.

Something real.

Because if you were.

Obsession wouldn't like like this.

Obsession doesn't care what people think

Obsessions knows craft,

not opinions.

Recorded:  Thursday 16th of October, 2024

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

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Recorded: 16th of October

Location: At The Above, Melbourne, Australia
Guest: Dave Clark @spacebetween_ @attheabove

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

Register for my mentorship! ⁠⁠Fill it out the form here.⁠

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Poem / Quote from Dave: 

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”

Today's Guest: Maurica Diaz Arellano Curts

You can find Mau here ➡️

https://www.instagram.com/maudac/

https://www.instagram.com/airelibre.earth/

A Note To The Runners: ⁠⁠Get my book here.⁠⁠

Register for my mentorship! ⁠⁠⁠Fill it out the form here.⁠⁠

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Today's poem was from page 20 of my book "A Note to the Runners.

Co-hosted with Akash Patel from the Under Pressure podcast.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

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Poem: Brain Volume

Turn the volume in my brain down,

static crumbles against the pillow,

glasses cracking, tipping, knocking

my hands try to communicate to my brain,

errors, swirling, spinning wheel of fatigue

months and months tuned into the same channel

direction north star,

direction all in

if you were to tip it all out,

would you be happy with what you find in the pile

I think so

so now, here is my brain

slow to move, slow to process

missing questions and important statements

just as the sky misses the lightning,

striking to make a point

striking to be heard

short sharp details on a black canvas

instead the cloud wraps around my brain

not black, not white, not grey either

my head is in the clouds now,

not searching for turbulence

just looking for the remote

to turn down the volume

on the wind,

on the rain

on the swirling

on the thoughts.

Listen to our previous chat here: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/josh-lynott-project/episodes/021-A-deep-dive-into-performing-under-pressure-with-Akash-Patel-e2a0r7h