[ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖇𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝔸𝔽 ]

Which, I do not.

My fucks are not subtle. In fact, my fucks are fierce and furious, however, they are reserved for few and far between.

Why? I am going to tell you. Not because you asked, because I do not giveAF.

Long before the woo woos arrived on the scene: I practiced, and guided yoga, which, most folks do not know, is an art form, a practice of embodiment.

The precise definition of yoga is union: alliance of mind, body and spirit. Yoga is not postures, nor performance. And definitely, not fashion.

Yamas and niyamas, fucks and no fucks, respectively, are the martial arts of yoga: the soul.

Yamas pertain to interactions with others: niyamas focus on internal self care and personal awareness.

Neither are asanas, which are the poses.

Posers, pose.

Yogis, or in my case, ninjas, cultivate mindfulness, harmony|balance, and authenticity.

While everyone runs a muck preaching love and light bullshit, I do not giveAF.

Energy is the essential essence of all life force, and while love is exhaulted as the highest frequency, it is not: authenticity is.

My authentic |absolutely aligned| self does not giveAF about unconditional love because that is the pure liquid light vibration we are born from, and will inevitably return to.

This is earth mother fucker:

we don't do that, h e r e.

This realm isn't for all that holier than thou shit, this is a survival of the fittest planet. And to be one of the fittest, one must simply [not subtly], NOT GIVEAF.

I unyieldingly stand behind my philosophy of wielding energy currency exchange, which most woo woo mother fuckers call a|bun|dance.

A bun dance, is shaking that ass. I do not shake my ass [for money], and I do not give away my fucks easily.

I've always said, if you wake up everyday with 100 fucks, and give ‘em all away:

yous a broke ass bitch.

A fuck, is a buck [works well in english]. A pinche, is a peso, works just as good. You can add your language of a fuck, is a buck, si tu quieres, and let me know if it's as poetic.

I embody shadow dancing. I practice do no harm, take no shit. I emit a fierce force of fortitude. All of that lives inside this fearless, and fuckless meat suit.

Long before perpetual amnesia, my embodied brand [the kind that is singed into flesh] not the mass marketed henna tattoo, was neurotique ninja: a savage, yet harmonious weaving of my neurosis and martial arts.

Yoga, saved my life.

I've died more times than a fucking pussy, and I've come back with more and more fortitude: less and less fucks, respectively. [LAW OF RELATIVITY].

I will articulate the ¹²immutable laws of the universe for dummies, in a future article.

These fixed principles which govern our existence are essentially the NO FUCKS of THE UNIVERSE: you can fight, or flow boo boo. The Universe doesn't giveAF anymore than I do. Trust.

I fucking flow boo, no woo.

All of our perfect, imperfections, are perception, and what you perceive, you receive.[LAW OF ATTRACTION].

I AM ATTRACTIVE: NOT REACTIVE.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and I can teach you, butt, I have to charge.

All you get for free, is this [for now].

Be| cause I DO NOT GIVEAF.

And, honestly boo, neither should you.

In concluding this full moon, ass in your face, not subtle, flower moon milkshake, look at your finances:

Your bank account will directly reflect a bun dance, or an abundance deficit.

Wield them fucks like a ninja boo.

Shadow dance with swords and call it yoga if you must, butt, if you're wearing lulu lemon or alo, while you perform in a body v. embody; I’mma pants you, and smack that ass [𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖊].

𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖞 𝖍❀𝖜𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 | ⚔︎⚔︎