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To me, the erotic isn’t just about sex. It’s about life itself. It’s the pulse of aliveness that runs through us when we allow ourselves to feel: to savour, to soften, to delight.
When we touch the erotic, we are saying yes to life. We’re saying yes to our bodies, yes to each other, yes to this wild, improbable gift of being here at all. It’s why I often describe the erotic as a celebration of life’s goodness - because when we let ourselves feel it, we are honouring the fact that life is good.
The trouble is, we live in a world that teaches us to shut that part of ourselves down. We rush, we strive, we numb. We treat pleasure as frivolous, something we’ll get to later when the to-do list is done. But the erotic isn’t something to tick off at the end of the day. It’s a way of being: a choice to meet life with curiosity, wonder, and an open heart.
And yes, of course, it shows up in sex - in the way lovers move together, not just physically, but in presence and attention. But it’s also there in the way sunlight warms your skin on a cold morning, or the way a piece of music makes your chest ache, or the way you close your eyes to taste something truly delicious. The erotic is in every moment you allow yourself to be touched by life.
This is why I talk so much about erotic aliveness. It’s not about being “sexy” all the time; it’s about being awake to the world, awake to each other, awake to the simple fact that being here, breathing, feeling, is extraordinary.
So as you move through your days, I invite you to ask yourself: Where can I let the erotic in? What would it feel like to let myself be turned on by life itself?
Because every time you do, you’re celebrating life’s goodness. And that, to me, is truly erotic
