31 January, 2018—3:45pm Expansive and silent, the waves of snow scuttle and shimmer. Black trees are silhouetted by white-blue sky; colors echoing the earth. God always seems to speak to me when I am standing here in this vast open space—feeling small. Today He spoke through the article I read just minutes before. The author described me, and so many other Americans, obsessed with fitness. We follow YouTube amateurs as if they were gods. We fling our Thor’s hammer like our bulging coach; or leap through air, pursuing trim, toned, Athena. Our clothes, phones, cars, are replete with their icons—their enviable abs and distended thighs. They heed our sweaty sacrifices and listened to our egotistical prayers, rewarding us with the body we covet. But we are mortals. We cannot dwell amongst the gods. The insalubrious rituals they demand batter our bones and mangle our muscles. Desiring to become strong, we are depleted. Yet we drag our sinewed body before the altar without exception.