philocaly
“every moment you steal from the present is a moment you have lost for ever. There’s only now.”
If actions are an accumulation of thoughts, doesn’t each act express the actor's belief?
The girl wondered these things sometimes, laying flat on her back. Her cognitive processing was a bit rusty. She needed to be supine when thinking thoughts. Laying down helped the fluids flow.
Lymph flows toward the heart—the organ of repose.
The Passion Flower (Passiflora) is considered the perfect flora specimen as it contains both male and female parts. Hermaphroditic. Bisexual. Multi-petaled and edible. A winding vine bears its fruit.
Spanish missionaries discovered Passiflora in the 1600s as they travelled through Peru. Priests of the time said it was symbolic of the suffering of Jesus. Crucifixion. Agony.
The girl took the floret to cure her heart.
She was irregular. Heartbeat patterns overlapped and paused at odd intervals. Arrhythmia. Abnormal rhythm. The remedy was to recline. To teach her heart to quiet.
Excitement sweeps through the girl’s body like an electric fence. One stoke, and each limb freezes. A marching band stomps and rolls to the steady beat of the snare drum. Rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat. Someone has to hold the tempo. The girl needs a drummer to attach the spirit. If she were an instrument, she’d be the flute. Lithe. Full of air. Pursed at the edge.
Paralyzed through the exuberance.
An AED restores rhythm to the essential organ—a machine that analyzes how much life is left. Death may be the recourse for an absurd life. Jesus took six hours to perish at the cross. It takes the girl six days to settle into sleep. Which is your favour—to want for a thing you cannot have, or to arrive at the point of self-actualization?
Death for love negates all fear. Purity requires more than each organ doing its job. The Soul seeks light; upwards and onwards. Blood pumps in many directions to fuel the body. Red and blue; one is oxidized one carries toxins. Removing waste is the only way to clear a path to the through-line.
Let the Soul breathe.
The girl wore loose clothes and left her hair on her shoulders. The laxity bore no use. She ate yogurt with a fork to slow the process of consummation and gave up meat. Rippling with angst, the girl feels lusty and romantic toward each foe, leaf, and fellow. She sounds like a harp with too tight strings.
Do passion and panic unravel from the same thread?
Photo source.
