My top priority isn’t happiness... a dream job... or even family.

It’s health—physical, mental, and whatever passes for spiritual health these days.

When I’m solid, I can lift everyone else.

If I’m coughing up blood, nobody’s getting rescued by me.

Nothing hits harder than a health scare.

Everything you thought mattered?

Gone.

Like realizing halfway through a sandwich it’s tofu, not turkey.

Modern life ambushes your body from every angle.

Let’s start with food.

We evolved to hunt and forage... not microwave popcorn or mystery nuggets shaped like smiley faces.

You want a clean diet?

Picture what someone in 60,000 BC would eat.

Mostly plants. Maybe a scrap of meat. A berry, if lucky.

No oat milk lattes.

No plant-based chorizo.

Just real stuff.

Now movement.

We’re built to sprint, wrestle, climb, and tumble like kids fueled by Capri Sun.

Instead, we slump into chairs...

...then try to undo it with 11 treadmill minutes next to Gary and his protein shake sermon.

Screens destroy attention.

Pings, pop-ups, pointless DMs...

We’re wired for all five senses—maybe six if you count your aunt’s ghost stories.

Now we scroll and squint.

Shoes?

Tiny padded prisons.

Back pain, foot cramps, posture issues?

Blame the shoes.

Go barefoot on grass...

...and your spine will thank you.

Remember getting dirty?

Not teen-boy-bedroom dirty.

Actual dirt.

Rolling in grass. Eating with hands. Dog slobber.

Now everything’s “ultra-sanitary plus.”

Still sneezing.

They call it the hygiene hypothesis.

I call it a reason to stop nuking your immune system with soap.

We’re meant for tribes, not echo chambers.

I grew up partly in the Caribbean: zero privacy, constant contact.

My great-uncle once barged in mid-poop to deliver unsolicited critique.

No secrets...

...but also no alone time to spiral.

Smartphones?

Slot machines in your pocket.

Ping. Like. Comment. Hate comment. Heart emoji.

Emotional whiplash every hour.

Our genes prepared us for famine and silence.

We got Uber Eats and TikTok.

DNA roots for sugar, bad lovers, and whiskey.

It doesn’t say no.

That job’s on you.

Poor health is so normal, nobody calls it sickness.

It’s just... life.