An Erotic truth is that what we lack in capacity to feel or connect, we fill with performance, emotionality, drama, or motion. We attempt to perform what only surrender can bring. We go for dramatic displays, romance, and love pumped with fillers. In truth, we simply have no idea that what lies beneath all of this is more profoundly beautiful than anything we can simulate.
We spend our time in the simulations rather than developing the pared-down sense perception that could perceive the perfection that is right here. Whereas we could employ our efforts to reveal the beauty, we instead smother it in our attempts to make things beautiful.
We keep our world small so that we encounter limited stimuli where we already have a built-in response. We fear the gap where we might have to improvise. Consequently, built into our politics is a response of outrage or affinity. Built into media is an ever-increasing intensity of drama to maintain the stimuli response.
Built into our literature is lyricism and drama. We don't use phenomena to showcase phenomena, we use phenomena to tell us how to feel, and we don't even think to be insulted by this collective patronizing.
We've built our entire structure of communication as a means of concealing reality, constructing over reality rather than revealing. The spontaneous moment of naked reality is too shocking to the programmed mind. The groundlessness of not being implicitly instructed as to how to respond sends the mind into shock. Our insecurities might rise up from below what is involuntary and primal in us—our rage and sorrow. These are not centralized or dramatized versions of tears or outbursts, but the rage and sorrow when received by the body as a flare of white sensation or a flood that draws us down from our head to our toes.
That which is not integrated is exaggerated. When we do not integrate, we exaggerate and miss out on our lives that are right here. We know life through a lens of thought. We do not hear, but instead hear our thoughts about what we are hearing. We do not feel, but instead feel our thoughts about what we are feeling. We do not taste, but instead taste our thoughts about what we are tasting. We will feed and feast on thoughts without ever tasting actual life. Having to travel through this filter, everything will need to be exaggerated, as it will scarcely make it to our essence.
Eros starts with the declaration that this is enough, then uses communication to describe just this as it is, without all the extra. It dispenses with the protocols that are built-in response instructions—look sad here, nod here, give affirmation here, don't go there. It aims to increase the spontaneous intimacy of the connection that comes from description of this very moment entirely outside of the context of time.
It focuses on what is here now. It asks, "What is this stroke here like?" It doesn't ask, "Is it beautiful or ugly or heart-rending?" It asks not at that level of abstraction, but is focused on the tiny, incremental units of description that require the mind to tune in to the sensation rather than be carried by it.
We often misemploy abstract plays on emotion in order to move another person along. We employ "purr" or "snarl" words that carry with them a connotation—a pre-charged quality that ignites feelings in the other in order to move them in an emotional direction. Built in is the prescription for how to respond rather than the description that leaves the space open to discover what one's response is.
We want to pump for a dramatic response to cover the fact we cannot sense the subtle one. We drive it to a climax rather than lingering or meandering through simple sensations. Our storytelling is like this—we have a story, an arc, a climax, and a come-down. We believe we did not get ours if there is a momentary description that opens the senses, honoring the listeners' space with room to sense what they want to make of it. Or we may choose to remain with them in the mere intimate act of sensing.
We communicate at the open-ended level of sensation. We describe what is without aiming or even knowing where it is going. This may infuriate the tumescent mind that wants to always get somewhere, but it will fortify the Erotic mind that is always already here. We nourish this mind by anchoring into this moment, by describing what is.
There is everyday speech for the purpose of influencing others. There is right speech for the purpose of respecting others. And there is Erotic speech for the purpose of being intimate with others. Erotic speech is the full, unfiltered, undiluted description of what is happening for us in this moment.
It may include rage, hatred, passion, dullness, or confusion. It only aims to describe with such precision so that the Erotic body of the other has an accurate map as to where to locate us. It moves with the ever-changing description of Eros. It liberates from the past and the future, meaning it isn't concerned with the false application of linear expectations. If there is love here now, then the aim is to communicate the love with the fullest possible expression of the love. If there is disgust, the aim is to communicate the depth, dimension, and texture of disgust. We communicate from inside it, making it connectable, meeting in the sensation and in the connection, and thus eroticize it.
This requires more of the mind. The mind "just wants to be told what to do," so a description of this nature feels unbearably tedious and exhausting. Unable to tune in to the present moment, the tumescent mind screams at this moment, "Would you just get on with it already!" It seeks the payoff, the climax of knowing how to feel and what to do.
Yet, if we do this often enough and long enough, a phase transition happens, whereby the Erotic mind within us which has heard all along begins to take root. Suddenly we are fluent in the language of the present moment. What seemed like so much meaningless description and sounded like all the other description becomes the unbearably elegant and skillful stroke that opens this moment rather than closes it—as agenda-based communication does.
More importantly, it is recognized as the language of nobility among nobility. Those who are seated on the throne of the present moment, to a degree that they can allow others to feel their own experiences and from this place—the only place where true connection can happen—can step into the shared experience of now.
It happens in the tiniest descriptive strokes, but those strokes have unbelievable impact on those with the Erotic body to sense it. After all, this is what all strokes are for and what all else is a substitute for.
