If Eros is the god of creation, the animating principle of life, then to be erotic means to be fully alive and in a state of being created. Erotic living, by nature, is the act of being remade by life. It’s a process of de-structuring (or destroying) to create an experiential identity whose first value is presence. It’s the opposite of a fixed mind and heart. This new identity favors being here now over being in the past or future. Erotic living can’t thrive in artificial and outdated concepts of self, boundary and quality of time. Evolution is one of the many faces of Eros.
An erotic person doesn’t cower in the face of change whether catalyzed by self, others or experiences. They know, though they can’t see, the gold is always in the darkness of the unknown. To live life present is to not know what comes next because it hasn’t happened yet. If it hasn’t happened, and you already know it, you are somewhere other than here. An erotic person knows the dark by heart. They know it so well, they’ve become it and thus, forgotten it. An erotic person has found out how to time travel to the only place that’s ever mattered—here.
James Hillman says Eros is aroused when we move deeply into life. I want to add that as we move deeply into life, life moves deeply into us.
Erotic living starts with the brave decision to begin practicing presence while slowly trusting yourself to stay here and behave in new and life-affirming ways. Trust is earned when it comes to the parts of ourselves we’ve often left in childhood. An embodied erotic life force energy is no exception.
Letting go of what’s fixed in favor of what’s dynamic is prioritizing being fully alive which is the same as staying here without being clouded by the entrapping, subdued and ghostly ruminations and prophecies from past selves. Beneath the onslaught of anxious thinking, the past is dead but the ego would rather lose erotic life than let change win. An erotic person knows it’s always time to kill your darlings.
Presence is the act of making peace with being born at all times.
When the essence of reality permeates your sense of self, you’re in coniunctio with Eros, creation itself. You’re no longer searching for the meaning or purpose of your life because you’re in the space where it comes from. You realize that you were always both the question and the answer. Because Eros is creation, a sense of possibility and newness enters your presence and becomes a way of life.
Presence is collaborating with the divine.
Once you get here now, it burns. You remember why you left (for collective and personal reasons.)
When you’re present, everything matters and matter itself comes from the word ‘mother,’ which is to say humanity’s soul carriages—women. To be present in a world that does not value the ultimate contribution from mother nature (women, femininity, female values, etc.) is to need to find a level of spiritual maturity that allows you to stay here despite the pain in this world. Otherwise, being present is too hurtful to maintain. And even then, in my opinion, a little dissociation might be a way to take a break. During these times, presence can feel like a Chironian wound.
But that’s where erotic life is, in the wound.
Nothing matters as much as what you do with what hurts.
Personal pain points to places of contraction in your identity. These deaths were conceived when their lives were met with less than love. Eros is life-giving in the psyche. Contraction corrupts the life force that is erotic identity. Hillman says, “The wounds of love stunt psyche, because the natural weakness and simplicity of its juvenile stage turn into a projective infantilism.” He mentions that we often don’t know we have this wound. Places that contract feel like they’re still responding to their initial traumas. This is how we can accidentally feel comfortable with people who elicit our pain.
He makes the point that Eros has a built-in inhibitor—fear. Learning to listen to the wisdom in our fear keeps us safe in love and erotic energy. Putting Eros and fear together instead of pitting them against each other helps us live erotically without throwing our lives into the fires of creation. Fear, in this case, is a potent teacher. The ultimate gift of feeling created by Eros is being continuously in the presence of the god of love who is the god of creation and destruction.
Suffer with heart. The rest of pain is a mockery of its maker.
Pluto and Scorpio in your natal chart are where erotic energy through presence (amongst other qualities) is most accessible to you. Your Scorpio house(s), placements, the house where Pluto sits, and their aspects are most pertinent because this planet stays in one sign for many years. Having said that, Pluto is my chart ruler, dominant planet and it sits on my ascendant so there are instances like this where the sign becomes more personal. Your own placements are where erotic energy is stored and waiting for its contraction to loosen. Transits from Pluto to your natal chart are also erotic opportunities for becoming. Pluto in your natal chart shows you where and how to meet yourself with presence.
There, in your own natal chart, is a key to your own lived vitality—the place where you can begin to exist in a state of novelty, creativity and erotic presence. Presence is a first step. Finding a way to respond to the pain in being here is a close second. There is much more to erotic living than these first instructions but this is a potent place to start. For your own nuanced and exacting natal chart + transits reading where I guide you into moving into your unique erotic energy, get the Eros, Always reading. It includes how to stay in it once you’ve found it.
Pluto transits and placements can feel harsh when you’re on the receiving end of the destructive pole of Eros. Finding ways to not only accept, but to celebrate and collaborate in being remade (created) is astrological remediation. Eros, Always is about living your placements and transits in a way that taps into the creative pole of this archetype. It’s the empowered art of living in erotic creation.
xx
love you,
Nairy