What we call merging might better be referred to as non-separation. There is a primordial element that is the seamless undergirding of all things. We do not create union out of some void; we remove the artificial obstacles that prevent us from seeing union.
The question is, To what extent are we experiencing it? The obstacles—what we know as separation—are what make life worth living, what give it contours and texture and what we know humanity to be. Obstacles are what give consciousness the experience of knowing, being; of experiencing, growing.
Without obstacles and separation, there is no way for consciousness to know itself. Obstacles, then, are a necessary element for life’s playful nature to express itself through. In many traditions, a notion often exists that the pinnacle of consciousness is a mountaintop, devoid of these obstacles, steeped in silence and stillness. This mountaintop is a place that would allow us to ascend to where we can escape the difficulties and challenges of obstacles and rest in union. Eros would say this is indeed an experience, a wonderful experience, in fact, but no better or worse than any other.
If this spot is held up and clung to as an “ultimate” spiritual achievement, the deleterious effects of doing so will be similar to those of climax habituation.
Eros returns to union as a means to clear the psychic palate in order to reenter and engage life with fresh perception. The path of Eros is one of intimacy, of the relationship and interplay between states of consciousness.
There is a sweet spot, a dynamic tension between sensing the draw to union while savoring the separation between phenomena. In this gap, in the in-between where life is taut and vibrating, lies the spot we seek for: intimacy. Too merged and we lose the contrast and vividness; too separate and we lose the awe and reverence. Life is most salient in between. This intimate connection is a moving target and, for an Erotic practitioner, it is the object of attention, training it to a level of sophistication that is both dynamic and steady, strong and subtle.
We train our attention—or more accurately, attention is incentivized to learn—by directing it to this location to be drawn into its most refined state. Once our attention locates this place, the reward of resonance, of the divine union of being both one-with but still one, becomes so compelling that our evolved self is drawn forth in order to meet more of our reality.
It is not seeking one location like stillness, but for the one spot inside all locations: rugged, sublime, rich and dark, fast, empty and quiet. It does not discriminate. It looks only for how to find the sweet spot where the gateway of intimacy opens. The world shifts by orders of magnitude with this slight change; we recognize that no experience guarantees a result, that the secret formula to all experience is in our ability to be intimate with any experience. Pleasure is not inherent to eating; it occurs when we are intimate with our food. Reverence is not intrinsic in church but asks us to bring ourselves to the altar.
To know intimacy, then, is to liberate all phenomena of the responsibility we put on them to open for us, and to place the responsibility on ourselves to learn the art of opening to each thing. For some, this may prove too burdensome. For others, the promise of a life steeped in this state, where that door opening or closing is not a mysterious accident but a craft that can be developed, proves to be the only way to live.
And the reward is twofold: We get access to the state we desire and we get a kind of attention that is being ever honed so our depth of experience is carved more deeply in each moment.
Intimacy is a cultivation of both the art of silence and the art of sound. We keep the attention continuous in the rarefied locations between, and develop and play with more complex and interesting obstacles.
Further, we recognize that a life without obstacles is a life without life. We simply want more interesting problems to engage with than the default ones we are dealt.
But problem-cultivation—just like problem-dissolution—is an art. When both are developed in tandem at ever-more advanced levels, we carve out our capacity for intimacy. With this, a hidden doorway to freedom opens in the midst of wherever we are. A sympathy between our consciousness and all things develops: We are not merely an objective witness or observer; we are an intimate partner with our reality. As such, we live lit up, in love, and privy to the deepest secrets that lie therein.
