From the most recent female ephemera, remember the spirit children, the essences that united from all of our physical union and they whisper, what about us. But they drift into the atmosphere and I have done all I can.
Sometimes I remind myself that it doesn’t matter whether you live for another three days or twenty years. For the mystic lover, three hours could be a hundred years. Remember this; I can tell you no more about it.
Repress desires and you become a hypocrite. Rumi said that.
All we have is to give and to hurry. But when we act with abandon, surrender to the life we pass through and become spirit, the way people do in love, we can be happy. Which is why people like falling in love: they are able to live a thousand years in a single instant. And most come crashing back to earth in jealousy and carnal lust. “What should we do next?” The spell is broken.
After practice you can eventually surrender to death and each life frame you live passes in slow motion.
I still can’t do it, but I’m getting better. Classic literature helps.