Tumescence, derived from the Latin word tumere, meaning to swell, arises when we consciously or unconsciously redirect Erotic energy away from its natural course. This struggle between our innate desire for unity and pleasure and our self-crafted notions of right and wrong leads to the accumulation of unused Erotic energy within us. Unmet internal feelings, including fear, desire, joy, repulsion, and love, remain unabsorbed, accumulating within our bodies and minds, akin to plaque in an artery. Left unprocessed, this buildup disrupts the Erotic body, the wellspring of creativity and vitality. In the ordinary course of things, the Erotic body possesses an innate processing system, similar to emotional digestion, dynamically converting stagnant Erotic energy into available life force. Energy is neither created nor destroyed—only transformed into something else. When the Erotic body functions correctly, Erotic impulses and desires seamlessly transform into a flowing, continuously renewed, creative life force. We can absorb significant impact in this state while remaining happy.
However, when Eros is suppressed over time, our creative life force becomes tumescent, turning inward and causing a feeling of swelling, inflammation, and irritability. This sense of tumescence resembles a persistent background alarm, leaving the body in a heightened state of arousal while the mind expends precious energy attempting to silence it. If allowed to accumulate, tumescence can lead to destructive consequences, rendering us reactive and explosive. In these early stages, if a friend draws attention to our tumescence, we can still hear them and take corrective action—such as engaging in an OM, meditating, or indulging in a relaxing bath—to release the contraction. Failure to do so propels us into the higher stages of tumescence: diagnosis, prescription, and ultimately, sickness.
In these advanced stages, dynamism wanes, supplanted by rigidity, while our critical faculties expand, and our parasympathetic system shuts down, leaving us in a state of inertia. This deceleration may manifest as mania, a frenzied slowness that estranges us from our dynamic core. Tumescence also forges emotional armor, stifling passion, flow, intimacy, and creativity. In these later stages, if a friend points out our tumescence, we interpret it as an affront and take no action to restore our dynamism.
On the surface, tumescence may appear as an existential condition, a vague, nameless longing for the unknown, suggesting a quest for a deeper self-definition. But this is far from the truth. Once sufficient tumescence accumulates and solidifies, it becomes a self-sustaining entity, siphoning our life force. It feeds off us internally, draining our vitality, and externally, by orchestrating situations and provocations beyond our conscious control. Tumescence assumes various physical or emotional guises, seeking to draw more energy toward itself. This condition is contagious, perpetuating itself by feeding on the tumescence in others. In states of heightened tumescence, we often find ourselves surrounded by individuals steeped in complaints, sicknesses, and diagnoses. However, clarity is also infectious. In the early stages of tumescence, we tend to be amidst people who more readily return to a state of flow, dynamism, and clarity.
The feminine essence, when in its tumescent form, manifests as rigidity, annoyance, unsatisfied cravings, dissatisfaction, agitation, lethargy, guilt, anxiety, and irritability, often accompanied by heightened sensitivity to criticism. Conversely, the masculine essence, in its tumescent state, gives rise to feelings of helplessness, inadequacy, impotence, self-loathing, anger, and rapaciousness, frequently leading to excessive drive in social and career pursuits.
The tumescent mind would rather be right than be happy, so it develops an idea that something is lacking. The following is a list of questions meant to help us understand the ways tumescence typically operates:
When we believe we are hopeless, is this belief created by actively denying situations and experiences that give us hope, focusing instead on our inadequacies?
When we feel less than capable, are we really demanding a position of dependency, turning away from learning the skills that would have us become capable?
When we say we are unwanted or don’t belong, have we created a barbed-wire fence around ourselves? Are we living in a position of against-ness that repels others? Do we justify being unkind by saying we are being rejected, not the other way around?
When we feel worthless, have we created this feeling by avoiding activities that build a sense of worth and continuing activities that drain it, using our “worthlessness” as justification?
When we believe we are only wanted
for X (our money, skills, body), have we created this perception by offering X, often in an attempt to maintain control through X, and by negating any evidence we are wanted for something beyond it?
When we are kicked out, have we created a situation where it’s untenable to include us?
When we feel as though we are not enough, have we created this feeling inside ourselves by only showing up with a minimum amount of effort?
When we feel we are never good enough, have we created this feeling by not doing our best or not giving our all?
When we feel invisible or believe we don’t have a voice, have we created this feeling because we have remained concealed by hiding or not speaking? Do we get angry when we perceive we are unseen or unheard, using that experience to justify not speaking, thereby creating a vicious cycle? Alternatively, when we do come out and are seen or heard, do we come out with resentment or vindictiveness, which makes it difficult for others to listen to us?
When we frequently feel “messed up,” is this because we continue to create messes by indulging in behavior that messes us up, and do we then fail to clean up the messes we’ve made?
When we think we are “too much,” is this thought created by not developing boundaries that stop at other people’s limits?
When we think we are unlovable, is this thought created by rejecting love from others?
When we think we are too good for certain situations, activities, or people, is this a feeling of false superiority, created by spending our time cataloging everyone else’s defects and focusing on our own positive attributes?
When we feel we never get what we want, is this feeling created by focusing on what we don’t have while denying what we have?
When we are always in trouble, is this state of affairs created by provoking it either explicitly or under the radar?
When we don’t feel respected, is this created by empty, exaggerated talk while failing to do the work to secure the truth, facts, self-knowledge, and stability that command respect?
When we think we are the only one who knows something, is this perception created by discounting what everyone else knows?
When we think we know better than everyone else, is this thought created by denying our own faults and only looking at other people’s failures?
