A lack of sleep means a loss of focus.
A lack of food means a short temper.
A lack of touch means impaired learning.
A lack of water means hallucinations.
A lack of sex means a strained relationship.
Fulfill the physical and the mental follows; like a puppy panting in the desert, it comes. The crude supplies the foundation for the fine. The biological drives the logical. Our art is propped upon piles of vegetables, feces, and pillows. Technology is powered by the passion excreted by a thousand sweaty bodies, humping and gasping, filled with water and steak and wine.
I am amazed at the ways in which our physical state affects our mental.
I am also abhorred by the same fact.
When will we break free?
And…what do we do in the meantime?