Sex, Drugs, and Public Health

Persephone

Upon watching her as we rocked

Swirling. Slowly. Within the amniotic fluid. Celestial liquid bathing her skin. Filling her lungs. Transmitting vibratory sounds. For a small eternity, magic built her floating body from an amorphous clump of cells. Cells composed of atoms precisely arranging themselves into molecules. Molecules precisely arranging themselves into latticeworks. Latticeworks of molecules creating cells of specific, vastly different intent.

Some of the atoms were created by the sun five billion years ago. Some were created yesterday. Most came from previous incarnations: as a part of some pre-historic and long-extinct sea animal from the oceans of Pangaea; as a part of Achilles’ ship. Perhaps some had once been part of Jesus’ body.

At some time, unknown to us, she began to dream. Floating within the Celestial liquid, awash in atoms of stardust, her dreams were, perhaps, fueled by her connection to the Cosmic Flame that gifts us all with a miniscule part of Itself – a Spark – which we call “life.” Beyond that, we can guess nothing more of the nature of her dreams.

And at some other time, also unknown to us forever, she discovered something floating in the Celestial liquid. It touched her cheek, creating within her, awareness of her self. And some moment thereafter, in the immeasurable time that growing neurons take to transmit information, awareness of her finger. Her finger played for eons with her cheek. In time, it came to respond to her desire, whenever she wanted to feel her cheek. Her finger became her first friend.

Within the utter darkness, swirling, slowly, safe, awash in Comfort that knew neither hot nor cold, nor light, nor pain, a sudden rent. The Celestial amniotic fluid rushed out thru a Black Hole. A blindingly harsh Black Hole. It sucked her into itself, extracted her from her Comfort and quiet and sleep-like darkness.

Cold. Blinding light. The unknown pulling of gravity. And a sudden interruption of blood entering her. Of nourishment entering her. Of oxygen.

Her brain screamed for oxygen.

Her first inhalation bubbled air thru her fluid-filled lungs. Her first exhalation spewed out amniotic fluid. Her next inhalation brought cold into her. But also, oxygen.

Her heart frantically re-shunted her plumbing. Ductus closing. Pressures of her blood surging where it had been low, dropping where it had been high. Her Foramen Ovale – little window between her atria – began to close, separating left from right in her heart.

Her intestinal tract, conduit for nothing but amniotic fluid and sloughing cells, prepared to go to work.

All this demanded energy at an accelerated rate. She began burning fat. Her weight dropped.

Instinct and hunger combined to send her on an expedition for food. With Sarah’s help, she found the breast and learned to use it.

Eat.
Sleep from exhaustion.
Eat again.

And while the plumbing and neuro-circuitry evolved methodically under pre-programmed guidance, she slept. Her eyes closed, her body cradled, she returned to her Celestial dreams. Her body hummed its internal song of construction, and beyond her body, her infinite memories of the galaxies and nebulae of her intra-uterine world swirled around her. Slowly. Liquid. Watched over by the Cosmic Flame.

Music :“Echoes” Pink Floyd