Nathalie C.M. Sabbagh kindle The Magdala

It is my opinion that certain smells can happily coerce the mind or consciousness to descend into physicality; there, it is instantly reminded of its connection between ‘the self’ (itself) and its ‘human’ (the body). Enjoyment of an interpreted wave of euphoria induces the mind to fleet a pulse: “Breathe for olfaction’s sake!” The lungs comply without force and the heart follows in due course. With that being said, could such an act be defined as both a moment of weakness and self-awareness? Pheromones, chai, or lemon zest pies: mixed concoctions of delighted odors in a vibrational field of invisible muses. In trying to interpret or possibly understand aromatherapy, the mind must “sommelier” itself upon a scent. In order to do this it must subjugate itself, or if you will, allow itself to fully embody the object of which it’s trying to understand. For better words, it must surrender or fall into complete unison. How silly, but yes! Pure and simple! Why complicate it? Because it couldn’t be that simple? No fighting…. No separation! Two objects, beings, or whatever you want to call it, in a remembrance play. And when that is achieved, would you possibly consider it to be the epitome of ideas like ‘falling from grace’ or ‘true love's kiss’? Don’t think too hard; no misinterpretation: that would imply a thought! Right now, in this moment, I brought you here and although “here” is most certainly questionable, you followed nonetheless. I ask you now to go think about what I could have possibly meant or implied by all of this. Go and see how your mind can sink or swim! My take is that the journey could never repeat itself, no matter the mind at play. Even in not trying, such a path would nonetheless be part of the experiment. So would all of the littlest outliers, the contrarians, realists, existentialists, and data dots that would have tried to outsmart the game in their own witty way. There would be no end to the sensuous bouquet of possibilities created. Essentially, in reading, you too my dears have fallen prey for this book surely feels that way. The Magdala is an abstract depiction of a beautiful journey by means of poetry and short tales (perhaps the inner voyage of finding oneself). Essentially, your interpretation reflects its truest masterpiece which makes you … the mirror.