Moderation can be the cruelest form of zealotry. Ancient philosophers, especially the stoics, believed that we should temper all emotions, never enjoying anything too much, never risking to get swept away by feeling.
But what happens when moderation takes command, when what is safest and most acceptable assumes charge? Feelings not permitted to grace our gestures do not dissipate. They mutate under the skin and grow. Expressions, beliefs, desires all find a way of bursting out, sometimes not in a form we would expect.
Words and touches free the tumorous pressures within. In our most immoderate moments, they can touch off feelings of rapture. Yes, we lose our reason in that love, but we find peace with our bodies as well. We moderate our souls by giving the joyful parts of us their freedom.