March Already. Of Course It Is.

Somehow it's March. I don't know how that happened either, and I'm not entirely convinced time is behaving normally right now, but here we are. There's something about March though, autumn turning in the southern hemisphere, Aries energy kicking in, that astrological new year. New business unfolding this year too. These threshold moments, they ask something of me. They want to move through me in particular ways, and the invitation is always there to notice what wants to come.

But the world has been a lot. If you've been anywhere near a screen in the last few weeks you'll have caught at least some of it: the geopolitical tensions that feel like watching two people argue at a dinner party where everyone else just has to sit there, the Wuthering Heights discourse that somehow consumed entire corners of the internet, and underneath all of it, actual war, actual suffering, the kind of thing that sits heavy even when you're not looking directly at it.

It's noisy. And when the world gets noisy, most of us do one of two things. We either get pulled into the current of it, scrolling and absorbing and outrage-ing until we're exhausted, or we go numb and flat and a bit disconnected from ourselves without quite realising it's happened.

Neither of those is great for your relationship with eros.

And I mean eros in the full sense. Not just sex, but your aliveness, your desire, the part of you that knows what it wants and responds to beauty. It's in your body before your mind catches up, in the way you move toward something that calls to you, in how you say no to what doesn't. It's in the small rebellions and the quiet insistences on what matters to you. Eros is the part that feels alive, that knows itself. That part tends to go quiet when everything outside of you is turned up loud.

Eros doesn't disappear in all of this. It gets buried under the noise and the numbness and the low-grade anxiety of existing in the world right now. It waits. It's patient like that, annoyingly so sometimes.

So this isn't a post with five steps to reconnect with your desire, because that's not really how it works. It's more of a provocation: notice what's happened to your body in the chaos of the last few weeks. Not what you think about it all, what you actually feel. Where you've gone tight, or flat, or absent.

Your desire, your aliveness, your connection to yourself isn't a luxury for when things calm down. And in these threshold months, as things want to shift and move through you, it's actually what you need most to stay tethered to yourself while the world keeps doing its thing.

For me, right now, that means coming back to my body outside of the noise deliberately and regularly.

Moving, being still, letting my nervous system settle enough to actually hear what's underneath. It means staying open to how my work wants to move through me this year, what it's asking of me, what I get to bring into the world through it. That's not separate from the chaos outside, it's the thing that keeps me oriented within it. The way I stay in relationship with myself, with eros, with what actually matters, is by not waiting for the world to quiet down before I do.

Your desire, your aliveness, your connection to yourself isn't a luxury for when things calm down. It's what keeps you tethered to who you are while everything else keeps doing its thing.