This article is a revelation, a turning of the tide.
For years, I’ve said there’s another way, a parallel operating system to the rational mind—one that doesn’t just make sense of chaos but finds beauty in it, draws out its hidden order.
It’s the mind’s native creative intelligence, not born of logic but of something deeper, more primal.
In a world that’s “tired and wired,” where attention flits and flutters, sexual energy could be our next horizon.
But first…we must let it stand on its own, decoupling it from the spheres it’s been appropriated into: pleasure, romance, duty, sport, indulgence, drive, spirituality.
None of these are inherently wrong, but they’ve tamed something wild, curtailed a bounty of benefit.
I call this force Eros, a method as effective as any in accessing what Henry James called the “mystical state”—dissolving suffering, birthing insight.
It’s hard to see it this way—to imagine that Eros could heal rather than harm, to think of it as something more than just sex.
But that’s precisely why we need a shift, a step back to see the whole picture.
The erotic impulse, when realized fully, is nothing less than the creative impulse itself.
If the truth of our nature is hidden anywhere, it’s buried deep in nature’s own quiet genius. In 2010, a provocative experiment was done. Japanese scientists placed oat grains in a pattern mimicking Tokyo’s suburbs and introduced a strange, single-celled organism…SLIME MOLD
As the slime mold began to move, it wasn’t random; it stretched and shrank with eerie precision, mapping out routes between the grains.
In just 26 hours, the slime mold had created a network mirroring Tokyo’s railway system—a task that took human planners decades.
This is how we might think of the erotic impulse. The rational mind spends years mapping out reality, while within us lies a quicker, more organic way of navigating. Lay down your coordinates—joy, richness, laughter, transcendence—and feed them. Let this inner intelligence work for you, much like the slime mold, which proves less vulnerable to disruptions, mapping its path with primal wisdom.
The “primitive” isn’t backward—it’s the way forward, a return to roots, to sources.
We’re not here to control or suppress these energies, but to collaborate with them, much like an artist works with the wild currents of creativity. It’s a shift from striving to something more fluid, more aligned with the natural rhythms of life.
Women, psychedelics, mycelium, Eros—these things we’ve dismissed as inferior might be exactly what we need. We’ve been looking up when we should have been looking down, into the soil, the roots, the dark places where life begins. Maybe the key to our future isn’t in the sky but buried deep within us, in the impulses we’ve been taught to tame.