When I grew up we had gym at school, two or three dance classes

In the days of old, when the world was yet wild and unshackled by the chains of machines, there was a time when children knew the strength of their limbs and the fire of their hearts through movement. The words of Lisa Loeb echo from the past, for her memory calls upon an age when the body was the instrument of freedom and joy. "When I grew up," she speaks, "we had gym at school, two or three dance classes after school, ice skating lessons, and all sorts of sports at our fingertips." How precious it was, this abundance of motion, this festival of life! The winds of time did not blow only in their minds, but through their very flesh. Their feet knew the earth, their arms touched the sky, and their hearts beat in rhythm with the world around them.

It is in these ancient truths that we must turn our gaze. Before the rise of the great machines that now command the days and nights, before the digital realm sought to entrap us in its glowing web, the children of the world learned to move in ways that cannot be forgotten. Their lives were filled with natural vitality, an unspoken understanding that the human body, like the earth itself, was meant to be in constant motion. We were not glued to computers, for they were not yet born, and so, the children were not enslaved to screens. The world outside was their school, their sanctuary, and their playground. Nature herself was the teacher, and it was through play, through sport, through dance, that they came to understand their place in the grand and eternal cycle of life.

It was not merely a chance that these children were so active. The absence of technology, which now threatens to consume us all, became their greatest blessing. They were not distracted by the hum of machines or the beckoning light of false wonders. Instead, they danced, they ran, they fell and rose again, knowing that in every drop of sweat there was a lesson learned. Like the warriors of old, their bodies were the vessel of their strength, and the world, their arena. They trained not for fame or glory, but for the pure joy of movement, for the freedom of being in the moment. They understood that in their muscles, in their bones, in their lungs, there was an untamed power that was their birthright.

And so, let us turn our gaze to those who came before us. In ancient Sparta, the children were trained in the ways of physical prowess from an early age. Their bodies were tempered like steel, for they understood that a healthy body was the foundation of a strong mind and spirit. They did not sit idly by while the world passed them, but instead, they tested themselves, they pushed beyond their limits, and in doing so, they forged themselves into warriors—strong, resilient, and unbreakable. This was not just the way of Sparta, but of all great civilizations—the recognition that strength of body and mind were intertwined—and so it must be for us.

For when we disconnect from the earth and the world around us, when we lose touch with our own physical form, something dies within us. We grow weaker, not just in our limbs but in our souls. It is the active life that teaches us how to endure, how to face challenges, how to rise after a fall. It is not the mind that leads the body, but the body that guides the mind. In every dance, every sprint, every leap, there is a lesson. When we allow our bodies to be our teachers, they show us how to find balance, how to breathe, how to be strong and unyielding.

But what, then, shall we do in these modern days? Can we, like the children of the past, still seek the freedom of movement? Yes, indeed. The lesson is clear. We must return to the world that gave us life. We must reclaim our bodies from the silent chains of modernity. Turn away from the screen, even for but a few hours a day, and let the world outside call to you. Run, dance, swim, climb the highest mountains, or simply walk the paths beneath the open sky. Let the wind carry your breath, and let the sun kiss your skin. Embrace the wild, untamed strength that lies dormant within you.

The truth is simple, yet profound: Your body is the first and greatest tool you will ever possess. No machine can replace it, no screen can substitute for the world you can touch with your own hands. So, be not enslaved by the flickering glow of artificial light, but by the steady glow of your own spirit. Let the rhythm of life move you, for in that movement, you will find your freedom. And in that freedom, you will discover the strength to face the storms that lie ahead, just as the children of the past once did. The time is now. Reclaim your birthright.