The Josh Lynott Project

Recorded: Monday 29th of April, 2024

Location: Sao Vicente, Madeira, Portugal

THE SLAB!

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Guest: Mudi Jayasekara @mudithj

Poem:

Poem one read by Josh

"8:49pm" The Night Before:

I feel numb 

Because I know I’m about to feel so much. 

My body knows.

My brain wants all the answers but my body will do the work.

I’ve had tears behind my eyes,

Waiting to fall but holding on.

I know they’ll come out.

Somehow I’m protected.

The way everyone talks,

They know something big is about go down.

Something bigger than me.

I’m in prayers.

I’m in thoughts.

These are not small.

Well wishes are wonderful, 

But these wishes have weight.

I hope to do them proud.

I hope to do me proud.

This is a war of heart.

Play smart,

Play to life,

Because this is life.

Quote from Mudith:

"Run slow to finish fast."

Blog from Ben Dhiman:

https://bendhiman.substack.com/p/endurance-games

Recorded: Monday 22nd of April, 2024

Location: Sao Vicente, Madeira, Portugal

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program.

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Poem: "He Is Not A God"

I am not religious.

There is a distance between them and I

an eternity it feels,

I want to close the gap

in this lifetime,

They did this in the same years as me,

They built a god from the same factory.

We are mechanics, and I want a machine.

If he existed, so can I.

I hate being relatable,

but right now I need something to relate to.

Hope grows on the fuel of relating,

gods grow from being unrelatable.

Yet they never were.

Boring. Same old.

Day in day out.

Special isn't a word to describe.

They built machines. They built the mechanics, too.

So make me a mechanic.

Make me a stone mason.

Make me a carpenter.

Make me a scientist.

Make me boring.

Gods are boring

because they did the boring work

Here I am,

flittering about in the ocean

this is not where they exist.

Angels and gods are not friends.

All I need to know.

All that stuck with me,

He is not a god.

I will carry that.

And with that,

I may beat him

because a god is unbeatable

but a human is not

and that is all you need to know.

You can beat him

because he is human.

He is not a god.

Recorded: Sunday 15th of April, 2024

Location: Sao Vicente, Madeira, Portugal

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Poem: I will not be lost.

There is a man below attending to the potatoes,

There is a woman above, she lost her footing.

A man in the hospital waits to greet me with a smile,

The family laughs at my expense. I laugh. It's contagious.

Too far from home, I lost count of the miles.

The counting never stopped. It mustn't stop.

The moment the count stops, I'll be lost.

I see it all the time. Lost people. In a lost world.

Watching motorbikes defy gravity, 10 inches from death.

Windy roads, brakes that work, most the time.

At least when I need them. That's all that matters.

The ocean never stops talking to me.

I keep staring at the horizon, are you on the other side?

There is a dozen sides, I hope you're on the one I'm looking at.

I never knew my north from east, nothing goes south.

I'm looking for west, for wins, for wonder.

She calls. Twice in the morning. She's sweet.

"Is Pasta, okay?" Mr Man, of course it is.

He calls, once in the evening. Assuring the dream is alive.

She misses me in the evening. She's over the horizon.

He walks with a limp now. The strongest man I know.

Are his days ever dark? They must be.

Every sunset turns to dark. The sky never sleeps there.

These two legs of mine. Remind me of everything.

I keep stumbling. Guessing. Falling.

The path isn't clear. I can't see the path.

I returned their map. I'm drawing my own.

I'm not lost. Because I can't be.

The most beautiful thing I heard,

was from a man I admired.

He talked of life and said,

"the magic is not lost on me."

I went on, knowing, living.

i'll never be lost. I can't be.

It is not lost on me.

It is not lost on me.

The magic, the love, the effort,

the enduring, the hardship,

the goodluck, the trying, the care.

All of this, is not lost on me.

Recorded: Sunday 7th of April, 2024

Location: Santa Cruz, Madeira, Portugal

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Poem one: "Carve yourself to stone"

Carve yourself to stone,

Work away into the dust

And come back tomorrow

You will blunt all that sharpens you

Please return inspired

Because the sword needs the stone

Without it

You will remain rounded to the world

No cut through

Rolling with the crowd

Missing opportunity

Because you were scared to hold something sharp

Let yourself carve

Into the dust. - JL

Poem Two: Sardine Can

Jammed in a tin can, 

My family are below,

Stripping flowers, walking dogs, staring at screens.

Me and 400 sardines,

Staring at screens, wishing I could send flowers, needing water.

As above, so below. 

I’m up here, they wouldn’t even know. 

I’m so far away, and going further.

Now I’m in the ocean.

Not in it, not on it, above it. I’m not above them.

I just see things differently.

All these planes, I think they did that to me. 

I’m a sardine bouncing between tin cans.

Some would do anything to be a sardine

I must remember that.1

4 hours in a tin can,

Is a small price to pay.

Poem Three: Missing You.

I want to miss you whilst you’re in my arms,

So when you’re not,

I’ve done the missing.

You won’t be missing.

You’ll be there,

In my arms.

You won’t be there, 

You won’t be missing.

We don’t miss what we have,

But I want to miss you,

When I have you.

My arms want to miss you twice.

That way, you’ll know what I felt

All the times I missed you.

And maybe I’ll never miss you again.

Because I did all the missing.

But it doesn’t work like that.

I’ll always miss you, 

Till you’re back in my arms. 

Recorded: April 1, 2024

Madeira, Portugal.

Major tech difficulties.

Poem: Clunky.Somewhere between the horizon and my kitchen,The sun appeared, coffee in hand. What are you doing there? I tipped granola into my bowl of honey.And went on with my day. Three flights, three beds, three daysScrambled eggs look at me with envyYou’re not one of us.Get out of the pan, go back to sleep.I feel flat, but stand five foot tenIs the rabbit on the moon really making riceAll I want is one grain.One grain of Familiarity,Calm,Routine.Clunk is as clunky does,Like the gear stick in my right hand.The accelerator should be on my left, it’s not.But I don’t really care,It all becomes one.So what’s there to learn under an orange roof,Some days it takes five days to walk the dogClothes talk to more people inside outRain laughs at you when it’s sunny insideJournals fill up with two cups of coffee.Poetry sense, makes doesn’t, I got it wrong, say it again.Poetry makes doesn’t sense,Say it again, I got it wrong.Poetry doesn’t make sense.The joy of clunkyIs like the sweet fruit with bruisesOften overlooked, but when devouredYou’re glad it fellAnd no-one else picked it up.I want to walk to the sun, Meet it before the horizon but not at my kitchen.Whilst it’s still bathing, We can talk about clunky,Just like my coffee machine.Just like my brain this week.

Recorded: March 25th, 2024

Location: Collingwood, Victoria, Australia

Sponsor: LSKD

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Guest: Louis Stenmark

Poem:

Tell Me Jimmy - Josh Lynott

"But maybe we could take the strengths of each other", Jimmy said to me. 

Our lives spun in different directions, yet orbited the same axis. Relaxation juxtaposed with chaos, two unlikely friends. 

Tell me Jimmy, of what stability looks like and I'll tell what you freedom feels like. 

Coffee in Hawaii today and Portugal tomorrow, two beds and four planes.

Tell me what it to have a wife and a home, not a house, but a home. 

The grass isn't greener, it's a different variety. 

But I know one thing, 

both of us must obsess over living. 

Poem Two - Read and written by Louis Stenmark

Deep Regret, Don’t you fret

We’ve all been there before

Mindset, don’t let

Your thoughts dictate the score

Paths of life Who’ll be my wife

Where do I spend my time

Fear worries goals and dreams

Regret is the ultimate crime

Embarrassment

Deep resent

Let me rest my eyes

Shoulds and oughts Bad thoughts

Please find a new disguise

Don’t fear, it’s near, no not your demise

In hale, exhale

The sleep captures you by surprise.

Recorded: March 16th HAWAII TIME, 2024

Location: Waikiki, Oahu, USA

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Weekly poem:

The soul has a colour, just like the heart of a sunset.

Resistance has a body, just like the ridge lines of a mountain.

Movement has an art form, just like the strokes of Picasso.

Our desire has an agenda, just like a rip in the ocean.

Curiosity has a face, just like clouds you make shapes from.

Everything you are, can be found in the different shapes of life around you. 

Amidst the complexities of life, and beyond the reductionist attempts to understand it - you, me, and the life around us, we aren't too dissimilar. - JL

Recorded: March 12th, 2024

Location: Paddington, NSW

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INTRO:

Poem:

Power to the words you all wished to talk,

power to the delivery and the way you walk.

there comes a time, when the mirror is the mind

you say what you want, even if you're leading blind.

I get it, I see it

but very few do it

this takes heart,

to steer clear

from the line on the chart.

Do what you love and it'll all be okay,

easier said, harder to put into play

but what if you do and the world pays attention

someone will whisper, always live with intention

Stand up, show your face, show your paper

thoughts left in shadow, soon turn to vapour.

Here you go, let it out, you are not alone

Let me tell you, there is power to the poem.

Journal prompt: What are you holding back from the world?

Recorded: March 4th, 2024

Location: Katoomba, NSW

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oin my Instagram Channel: "One Percenters" via @joshlynott

GUEST; MIKEY CONLON

IG: @itsmikeyconlon

INTRO:

Poem One: "A place we all have in mind" - Josh Lynott

There is a place we all have in mind, somewhere we want to go.

A place that makes sense, that holds the pieces of the puzzle that matches our edges.

There are places we want to go with certain people, because they know the feeling too.

There are roads we wish that never ended, and songs that could a play a little longer; maybe an extra chorus.

I know there are places you want to go, because I have places that I dream of going too.

These places, to you and I, they look different but I know that the feeling is similar.

There is a place that waits for you, because it owns a part of you that you haven't seen yet. 

This place isn't a land to get lost, or a space to find answers, but a grounding to be. 

There is a place we all have in mind, somewhere I hope you go. 

Poem Two - Mikey Conlon

Although my mind wallows in worlds of pain

I know the face of peace will arrive to me

In the hills

In silence

Smelling the flowers and singing with the birds

Doubt will be a thing of the past

And the new day will be cheerful, not concerned.

Journal Prompt: When was the last time you did something exhilirating?

Recorded: February 26th, 2024.

Location: Paddington, NSW

Sponsor: @whatasesh Running & Mindfulness retreats.

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Poem:

"Dressed in gold." - Josh Lynott

It is said that before hitting the mountains,

the last light ray of sunset stops to smile. 

For it knows all the colours it has been,

and the people that watched in awe,

hoping one day they might dress in gold too. 

Waiting is the mountain,

beaten, rugged, and covered in stone

but it waits softly

for it will hold the golden gown of the last sunbeam.

Everyone needs a place to undress,

because there is no weight heavier than colour.

Every day new colours appear,

the spectrum is too wide to see.

The last light ray needs a home on the mountain

side because only tomorrow will it journey from blue to gold, and back again.

At day’s end, we're all dressed in gold in someones eyes,

someone's our mountain to hold.