The Josh Lynott Project

Recorded:  Monday, 30th of June, 2025

Location: Melbourne, Australia

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

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Poem:

Bench spray in the refrigerator,

goats cheese in the washing machine,

watering my plants in the shower,

running laps in my mind.suit details,sweet details.

Petals blooming,Petals falling.Too much ginger,few shooting stars.A world upside down,

still spinning,

still hoping,

that all the things I put in the pockets

of old sweaters, paint-splattered jeans

show up, somewhere

In the ether between honey and lemon

I’m trying desperately hard to make sense

of things that

don’t belong

in my

refrigerator.

A bonus episode on The Josh Lynott Project.

Something I've been wanting to try more of.

A one-take video whilst I'm mic'd up cooking dinner.

I hope to upload more videos of this style to YouTube and Spotify in the future.

Recorded:  Monday 23rd of June, 2025

Location: Melbourne, Australia

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

Support my work (buy me a coffee) here.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

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

Poem:

The little littles

the one percenters

asymmetrical hand holding

coffee sits, saying no to plastic

autumn leaves, streets with no wind

camp fire,

staring, staring, staring

wish on you

on me,

on shooting stars.

steam room

one sillouhette, yours.

running,

getting lost

redirected, reorientated

off-piste, over fences

of course

life’s better with broken rules

life’s better with the risk of

broken bones

and so we love

to learn

to wish

to dream

on the clock

on 1.11

on 11:11

anything that makes

me healthier, wealthier,

happier, and full of opportunities

yet with out these wishes

and hopes

I’ll still look

for the little littles

and all the things

that the world didn’t want me to see

yet I looked anyway

hidden notes

sweet details

that changed my life

over

and

over

again.⁠

Recorded: Monday 16th of June, 2025

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.⁠

Read this: Why curation, discernment, and restraint matter more than ever.

Poem:

Your voice rattled around sunflowers,

And stirred around the topic of soup,

Just as the tumeric stained wooden ladle did. 

Your legs held strong on beloved topics,

And crumbled under the pretenders mask. 

Liking something, is easy. 

Knowing it, feels like an anchoring,

And living it, is what we strive for. 

So we stand,

And we stare, 

Into the abyss and old-painted ceiling cornices, 

Wondering, what would life be 

If we were to love this thing,

To turn this musing and pondering

Into a tree so deeply rooted

It could never be removed from this earth

This heart

So our voice rattles,

Fearing we might like something into monster

Or like something into ashes

But we don’t like it enough

To tell each other

How much it means,

How much our life depends on it

And in this see-saw, tango dance

What we once liked, so purely

Runs away. 

And we’re left with nothing to love

And wondering,

What to rattle on about?

Recorded: Monday 6th of June, 2025

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Guest: Rebecca Taylor // @becktaylor // @soarrunning

Sponsor:

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Recorded: Monday, 26th of May, 2025

Location: Melbourne, Australia // Boston, USA

Sponsor:

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Guest: Cole Townsend

You can find Cole and his work here:

Substack // Running Supply

Recorded: Wednesday, 21st of May, 2025

Location: Melbourne, Australia

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⁠JOIN MY RETREAT!⁠

Guest: Michael Nitschke

https://substack.com/@nittaz

https://www.sparc.com.au/staff/michael-nitschke

Recorded: Monday, 19th of May, 2025

Location: Abbotsford, Victoria, Australia

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

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Poem:

Spin yourself around in circles – the faster you move, the lighter you’ll feel. If not in the body, you’ll soon feel it in your head. Dizzy, even a little effervescent. Feelings, like air bubbles, rushing to the surface.
I’m puzzled. The world seems to be spinning faster, but it doesn’t feel any lighter. Is the gravity of Earth pulling down heavier? Is this what centripetal force from high school physics really feels like, or are my shoes just weighted? The world is dizzy. I’m sure we’re meant to be dancing, fox-trotting, salsa-stepping, but I think we’re pirouetting, on the same damn dime and spinning ourselves giddy till we run out of time.

I look at the things around me that are meant to move slowly, like magazines, curtains, and the butterfly wings on the latte next to me… but instead, they’re turned over left-right-left-right, pulled up before the sun and down after the moon, rung in on a bell, capped with a lid, and sent off for a photo to be sipped on through a screen.

I think the world is seeing stars. Not rockstars, pop-stars, or even shooting stars. Perhaps, if you don’t take a deep breath. Quick. Box-breathe, 4,3,2,1 - you might see them too.

We became bored with being bored because it wasn’t efficient enough. Now, I’m a little worried if boredom has become extinct. Will it be something we talk about, like the Tasmanian Tiger? - “Oh boredom, it went extinct in 2017.”

I look at how we run ourselves in circles in conversations, communities, and countries. Of course, we’re going to bump heads and fall. Look up, see the stars. Close your eyes a bit, look carefully.

You saw what I saw?

A star goes wild in the places beyond air — a dark star born of coldness and invisible. It hits the upper edges of our atmosphere and look! It is seen! It flames and arcs and dazzles. It goes out in ash and memory. But its after-image remains in our eyes to be looked at again and again.

Stewart tells me.

So I know there are stars, something true and real, but I found they don’t look like galaxies, and the suns retired 3 billion years ago.
They look like poems, and soft, narrow tracks below ancient trees. They look like a heavy head on a Sunday afternoon at 2 pm with a tea in hand. They look like adventures, and long dinners, and I’m sure they are dusty, like the book that’s been staring at you for the last 17 months.

So, I’ve found there are two ways to see the stars. You can spin yourself into orbit, or you can pull the handbrake and stop on the side of the road, letting the traffic pass you by.

There’s a space for you that sits beside noise.

Stars still exist.

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Poem:

I wrote you,

About all the sweet things,

Rooftops in San Francisco,

Golden gate Red against surfers blues,
Gucci swatches and black sand beaches,

Denim, embroidered, bleached, and teased.

I wrote you,

About style.

It’s in the eye, not the pocket. 

I wrote you,

About pizza boxes, 26 inches

Covered in poems, in love notes

What is not done with love,

Is only illusion.

And that’s why I wrote you,

To remind you of these things.

Sweet things. 

Date: Tuesday 6th, May 
Location: Melbourne, Victoria 
A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

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

Poem:

if there is nothing to say,

perhaps, I am empty.

a bowl with no fruit,

an ocean with no waves

I have been conditioned to overflow

to pour honey in every mug

aching to warm hands without gloves

and find way to move light through cracks

sometimes there is nothing to say

the flowers don't need turning

or blooming

there is enough food on the table

and the bread,

simply,

needs time to rise.

you forget

I forget

the power of nothing

of saying

of doing

of feeling

so if you have nothing to say,

rejoice.

sit with it

come again,

and admire the empty fruit bowl.