I've experienced a swirl of synchronous happenings these past few weeks all of which were centered on the myth of Psyche and Eros. There was the Facebook post about walking through our private underworlds in order to find our way to Eros and, ultimately, the hard work it takes to cultivate happiness. Then there were the articles I stumbled across on the Divine Eros and freeing our Eros energy. That's not every getting into the daily signs that crossed my path, from candles and cupids to seeds and golden thread.

Most of these signs might be easily dismissed by the simple fact that Valentine's Day is around the corner (when scented candles and cupid-shaped chocolates abound), if not for the fact that I saw these things in unexpected places, not in a holiday store display. The seeds came to me from an unlikely place: a random gift of my favorite popcorn, lovingly stored in a mason jar and a forgotten bag of seeds I'd harvested the previous summer tucked into my the junk drawer (Psyche sorting seeds in the first of many trials set by Aphrodite). The glittery sweater that I found in the back of my closet was reminiscent of the golden wool Psyche had to collect to prove her love for Eros. There was even more than one dream about navigating hell or wading through choppy waters (two more trials Psyche endured). It seemed after I read that Facebook post, all I could see were signs of this Eros energy.

Clearly, the universe was trying to tell me something. And when the universe speaks, I listen.

My task, it would seem, would be to reconnect to Eros. So what is Eros energy? A simple answer would involve invoking this God of Love to find romance, sex, and all the things we come to associate with Cupid and Valentine's Day. But it's a bit more complicated than that. For one, archetypes and gods are rarely so "copy-paste" in their answers, any more so than a tarot card can be read literally. Eros isn't just about romantic love or eroticism, it's about reconnecting to the passionate energy within ourselves, trusting the joy we inhabit rather than doubting it, as Psyche did when she was at first convinced her love Eros was a monster in her bed. 

Eros energy is the life-blood of our daily lives, the healthy relationality with ourselves and others that makes life, well, delicious. We are all like Psyche, in one way or another, doing the hard work to reclaim our private Edens, traveling through our proverbial hells and completing seemingly endless trials to reclaim our natural passionate essence, unblemished by experience, outside voices (which caused Psyche to doubt her love in the first place), and our own uncertainty.

So life was telling me something: I had to work my way back to the earthy hedonism, the everyday eroticism you feel when you are at one with yourself, in union with the things that make you feel happy, healthy, whole. I'd lately felt disconnected from myself, operating more out a sense of obligation than actual enjoyment, fearful of turning down social obligations because I didn't want to offend anyone. In truth, I wanted to be home; I needed to be quiet. I needed to slow down after feeling like I was moving increasingly faster and faster. I didn't feel joyful, nor lusty for life. I felt tired--and it was only the first of the year. Somewhere between holiday break and beginning teaching again, I stopped listening to myself, stopped connecting to Eros.

In order to find my way back to my Eros energy, I had to ask myself hard questions--what really brings me joy?--and be honest about my answers, which were, frankly, counter to the social norm. I thought of Psyche as I worked on opening up myself to the love vibes. I thought of her separating seeds: What intentions do I want to plant? What do I need to feel nourished? How can I find my golden moments without climbing an uphill battled to get to them? Again, I looked to Psyche, as she gathered golden fleece left on the reeds the rams brushed against, rather than confront these dangerous animals head-on. There are gentler ways of doing things.

Then we must not forget the waters of forgetfulness. Psyche bringing a jug of those waters back to Aphrodite is not to erase the past but to let go of the petty details and small grievances that only weight you down. You can't hold on to everything, otherwise, you've no room for present happiness. Her journey to the underworld reminds me that I can't give energy to things that drain me, just as Psyche must remain focused on the road ahead of her and not be distracted by the lost souls that call to her. 

All well and good. But what does finding your way back to Eros look like when you are an ordinary human? Much the same as Psyche's journey, truthfully. I saturated my senses with things that made me feel inordinately happy. I conjured Eros's fire to illuminate my path. I sorted seeds and gathered golden threads. I stopped giving energy to things that drained me as I move into a new phase of my life. I gave myself more quiet time, so I could listen to myself, my needs. And yes, there may have been one or two heart-shaped chocolates and lighted candles. 

Lest this seem all too easy, consider how we, as a culture, shy away from what we really want (hello people pleasing) and unadulterated pleasure (surely we must be always working). It can be a difficult journey to find our way to joy, to passionate pleasure in all things. But so worth it.

So I leave you with this soul seed to gather: What brings you ecstasy? What are you afraid of enjoying? What makes your life delicious?

Find it. Gaurd it. Nourish it.

That is Eros energy.