Eros wants to coax out the most hidden, which can be found in the first-generation conversation, which comes before the discursive— before elaboration, analysis, and exposition. Eros does more than just allow for this to come out; it incentivizes for speaking this other language of unadulterated impulse.
All power lies within the layer of the unspoken. Vulnerability and potency lie in the unsaid, and gravity arises from having never been exposed. The unfiltered and uncensored, were it spoken, would provide so much sensation we could not guarantee the effect it would have on another person's nervous system, from deep intimacy to deep triggering.
Underneath everyday conversation, our wild mind, the mind of Eros, is having another conversation where much is articulated and exchanged. We want to have the first-generation conversation; we want to get real with each other. But we are heavily rewarded for remaining dormant, and punished for expressing ourselves, in order to maintain the facsimile of safety—safety being limited sensation.
It can feel perilous, as though we are going to reveal too much of ourselves and come off as fools. We haven't developed this kind of discourse. We haven't learned how to communicate in this way. We must learn to have trust in our resilience and in our desire to be real with each other beyond the conventional, polite, and mundane.
We need to believe in each other, believe we can take it. When we are hurt, it usually points us to something in ourselves that we want to discover and open to and soften; something we want to expose. However, that place is often where we are most ashamed and contracted.
We do want to let go. And when we do, we realize that whatever it was we were hiding was not so ugly; it was just human.