The doors to the Summer Intensive close soon, and the caliber of men gathering is extraordinary.

These aren’t just good men: these are men standing at the threshold of a profound transformation—men who recognize that attraction begins long before the first word is spoken…

… and that seduction is not a performance or an obstacle course: but an expression of our very nature.

For details, and to grab your spot, go here: Blue Fire, Red Strength.

For a glimpse into the labyrinth, read on:

* * *

When you feel the spirit inside you, you don’t need (many) seduction tips

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Well, I’ll still share some tips.

Once I saw what the Ars Amorata had for me, I threw on my chips and span the wheel.

I’ve seen things.

One night, I watched Zan work the humid bar in Rio, marvelling at his sub-communication, hoping I could someday pull that off. He did this thing where he would half-lift his glasses while looking at a woman the other side of the venue—as if it were a glance with the naked eye that threw jolts of electricity into her. Physically, he never left our conversation. Until, all of a sudden, he (and the girl) had gone.

My seduction was at the throw-spaghetti-at-the-fridge stage. Try enough times, goes the logic, and something would surely stick. My method involved finding someone attractive, revving up courage, lumbering over, breaking into her whole scrum of her friends, and entertain everyone with conversation. I should have been crushed by my low state of mastery, but I was inspired to go to bed (alone) each night with a vision.

Years passed, and I acquired the vision. I now feel how erotic and emotional energy runs through a woman’s body. I can see how she shuts it down (or tries to hide it), or when she yields and lets it flow. I know what the longing of the feminine heart looks like, and I can tell how close (or how far) she holds her deep beauty from the surface. Part of this vision, sure, comes from a hunter-like sense of pattern-recognition. But the deeper aspect of reading a woman is knowing how these same vulnerable energies move through me.

One time this girl came to help us in a workshop—she was a slim, smart, deep brunette. Gorgeous. Our attraction had a sharpness to it that it cut through us both like a knife. The first minute we met, she ran into the bedroom to hide. As the workshop wrapped up she confided in me: I was scared, I could not be around you. As soon as we met I felt you could see through my clothes!

Truth is, I felt my heart palpitate when I met her, and a similar uninvited whack of heat inflamed my crotch. Perhaps the only reason I didn’t go hide in a bedroom was that I had a job to do. I still think about that girl.

Attraction and terror so often co-exist. An early part of the art requires that we relax—we enjoy—the nausea and the butterflies that would throw our younger selves out of the dance. Instead, one must risk that vulnerable awkwardness before any next step can unfold.

Today, if I go to a gathering or a party, and there are a dozen good women present, I almost always connect with a beauty who is available, has something energising in common with me, and is excited to see me again. I do not always intend for this, and it was a fortuitous surprise when it started to happen. The irony is that, to get to this delicious moment with her, I almost always bake through a period of feeling uncomfortable, disconnected, and out-of-place. How strange, that feeling at home in one’s skin often unfolds from a period of feeling quite out of it. When I accept the discomfort of a social situation, my mind seems to clear from over-thinking, and I regain some ability to see clearly. For years, any time I’d feel that social awkwardness, I’d cover it up with small-talk that made me tired, and I never had that embodied energetic effect. Now, it comes naturally. I learned exactly where in myself to stand.

Getting together with Adelya was good fun. ‘It’s a good job you knew that I liked you,’ she said to me. ‘If you hadn’t had told me, I might never have known!’^*

As you can tell, finding my feet with women meant I sat in a lot of discomfort along the way. But beneath any emotional turmoil—not just in me, in us all—lays a vastness of inner resource. Inevitability, as I came to discover it, is a core masculine trait. You could call it persistance, or a sort of psychic will. What if you knew as you gazed at her that it’s inevitable, if you simply persist this way and smile, with love, that soon she will be yours?

But my favourite part of the journey has been letting go of all my know-how as a ‘seducer’, and becoming messy, vulnerable, human. Goofy humour that escapes my better judgment, which she then picks up and teases me for. Breaking the veil of ease and delight, and picking some utterly nonsensical fight. Sharing the memory, the thing I did, or that I’ve fallen in love with you like a fifteen year-old boy—thinking my admission would humiliate me in her eyes—only to see it bring us closer.

If I’ve gained any power with women over the years, it’s only because I love their power to make me humble again. Within all this red strength and blue fire I’m harping on about, if I have any great feature with women, it’s that I’ve just about learned to stand up within the special weakness I have for them.

I’ve just moved to a big city, and I’m feeling this weakness every day.

I’d like to share whatever ‘power’ or ability I have.

Not to everyone—my days of Amorati zealoutry are over! Most men are yet to see just how important such a connection is… not just across the breadth of their personal lives, but as an influence on everyone they know around them.

I’d like to pass on what I’ve gained so far, and journey with fellow men continuing to confront their edges.

From what I have gathered, it’s the exchange of ‘seductive energy’—the knife-edge threat of love or reproduction that hangs in the air between us; the way her simple scent or a flick of hair gets biological juices going—that makes life, in the flicker of a moment, worthwhile. Maybe it’s lack of eros in one’s life that causes depression. If you’re here, I sense it because you walk through life with this sweet twist of meaning.

* * *

How to let the spirit bloom

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The ‘depth and narrative’ work is great and all.

Liberating, for all the reasons we’ve discussed.

We can hang out in depth and myth all our lives. It’s a conversation that saves us from suffering, and can fill us with the pride of being ourselves.

But at some point, you probably want to grab your depth, your myth—other dimensions, too—and bring it all to a beautiful woman.

Face-to-face, side-by-side,

Swerving by,

Or in the conversation of a whole summer night.

— Who are you, right now, for the women of your life?

— Who would you like to be?

— Think of a woman who brought depth or brought myth to you, who wrapped you in new futures or lost, abandoned pasts. What was the meaning of her?

A man always stands at the centre of his panorama of women. Though you may feel separate from this energy exchange right now, if you only leave your house each day for a week, you will see women all around.

Each time I walk to the bakery, two women stand apart. One has these dark brown eyes which look down each time she takes my order, and her cheeks transform in a new shade of red. Her colleage—a beauty with hips the size of France—lets her soft eyes pour out at me. Her thick lips part in a smile so free, and my chest melts as if made of butter. I leave with more than daily bread: my feet tap and my fingers, as William Blake put it, emit sparks of fire with expectation of my future labours.

The spirit is in the air!

And love is paying attention.

What if the woman you’d like to see has already long seen you? What if the connection you long to create exists before you even try?

* * *

But most men don’t like seduction

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It feels like a hurdle for them to get over, or a hurdle always hanging over them. A course of obstacles—barbed fences, torn flesh, and pools of muddy shame—rather than an aspect of our great nature.

They feel delight or even arousal, but to that originating spirit they soon attach the need—for whatever reason—to possess her as quickly as possible, to claim the ‘result’ at the cost of the process. Or they attach stories that tell them they’re unworthy, that they can’t, and that they’d save an awful lot of trouble if they didn’t try.

How did we come to see seduction as a technical challenge and not simply mutual recognition? What if connection wasn’t an achievement, but something ancient we remembered?

Virtually all of us grew up in systems and cultures that hi-jacked our very personal spirit of seduction, perverting our natural erotic energy into compulsions or self-prisons.

I, too, had detached-from-reality stories about what seduction really ‘meant’. Getting something, or getting some, was the biggest thing in my psyche for half my life. My identity resting on sexual validation, I became a Jekyll-and-Hyde around women—charming on the date; werewolfing in the bedroom. The whole process brought more anxiety than pleasure, which stopped me being able to get to know her, and her being able to know the real me.

Those years were long.

I did not understand abundance.

Until we’ve let go of our conditioning, there is no lingering in that non-judgmental space of potentiality, the ball-tinging, stomach-churning, pre-psychological moment where female and male energies first cross. A man needs to learn to linger here, to sit in the play of nature before his mind. And his task, as soon as he’s up to it, is to wade off the urgency and the negative voices, the sense his worth-in-the-world is at stake, and simply breathe seduction’s air.

The first thing to be aroused in a man or a woman should be the spirit—the brightened mind, the stumbled word, the dilation of the capillaries and the onslaught of charge—before the ego kicks in.

What if we elongated the act of looking? What if we dared gaze a full five seconds, and betrayed ourselves a smile. What if we dare gaze for ten?

What if we overcame our mothers, who told us to avert our eyes from strangers, and the voices of the school-halls that called us dirty for liking girls?

What if our visage—never hard nor objectivising—threw bloom in her petals of love?

What if we elongated the act of noticing and being noticed—

And surrendered our façades and admitted: that yes, from the other side we’re playing part in this dance?

What if we’re caught in the observer effect: one glance, a rush of energy—

And let that burn through us and bring us life?

When you dip a tea-bag for a second in boiling water

As you remove it, you see the streams of its colour flow into, then claim, the depths of the cup.

That water never again becomes clear

And the tea-leaves themselves lay saturated and part-dissolved.

So it is in her and I, in the opening round of any seduction

—sometimes consciously; sometimes such that she shows up just in memories or in dreams.

What if you bought yourself ten seconds to look?

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We are an anxious and erstwhile generation; we have burdened ourselves with doing good—we evaluate our pleasure in health apps, and integrate last night’s intimacy insights in our monumental project of the self. Did you ever see a millennial ever bask, post-sex, with a cigarette? Or sleep sweetly in the sheets of shared juices? We take ourselves too seriously! Before we reach out and walk over, something has to cut through technology’s optimising grip of the psyche, and put us in poetic mood. And that something is this: the undefended first recognition of natural attraction, unmeasured and unquantified, and given a moment or two to bloom.

* * *

Amplify the Initial Flame

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Sure, there are specifics in the dance of seduction: what to say, how to say it, and how to develop a rhythm. Intimacy has a progression. Yet the more you sit in your depth and allow the spirit of things to kindle, you tend to discover these specifics for yourself. In the end, it’s preferable to find and sing your own song of seduction, than copy-paste anyone else’s or mine.

It’s how the hummingbird would do it.

But no mentor can leave his students without method or inspiration. Some choreography to take away, to master, and then make entirely your own. And we’ll do that.

For now, consider this the pre-course reading: before we go into the mechanics of seduction, we have to begin with the spirit. It starts with your very will and desire to enter an altered state of being. Can you see the world and women through differently-tinted glasses? How can you make it so that natural beauty and sensuality puts you in a good mood and not a negative spiral? This is a process, a state, to cultivate within.

This is what I’ll guide you into, all summer.

The thing with increasing ‘depth’ is that, the further you work through any blocks, the easier you’ll enter such inspired states. No more voices, no counter-veiling emotions paralysing your flow. No part of you burning to get beauty as something to prove to the past self within you who never got enough. Please note: I am not wandering the earth scouting for hot women. My love is a simple, responsive joy and gratitude to being alive.

So what gets you in the mood?

In the end, it’s largely a choice.

— Would you like to get in the mood for seduction?

— Do you have a daily, weekly structure of habits, of self-care, to remind you of this way of seeing?

— How quickly do you work through inner roadblocks, so you can return to that sense of spirit?

When you’re feeling the spirit and you’re confident of it, the ‘next steps’ of seduction always unfold from there.

To find your way in seducing women—and it’s the same in each culture across the globe—we must seduce ourselves first.

And at its core, it’s a process of allowing ourselves to be allowed.

—

The great thing about walking this path with a close group of brothers is that, as you start feeling the mood for seduction, it’s powerful when others reflect your energy back. Breaking the habit of not expressing yourself, for most men, is a tentative time.

— You’re excited to do this with her?! What if ten other men share their own experiences and ideas, which all amplify your inspiration and creativity?

One of the hard things about ‘leading our relationships’, I’ve found, is that my ability to lead dries up. If I don’t have an inspiring resource to come back to—a sense of invigoration or rest—I lose my access to the spirit.

In this light, the Summer Amorati Intensive becomes your sanctuary and your mastermind—that will bring out your pleasure and your delight, while cutting away at the fear or conditioning that keeps your spirit in check.

In the Intensive you will:

• Cultivate a source of self-love that women can feel before you speak
• Learn to navigate feminine energy with strength and tenderness
• Create connections from the depth of being, that go beyond ‘massive action’ techniques and ‘working’ at attraction
• Develop a presence that draws the right women to you, rather than you having to chase after them

If you feel connected to what you’re reading here, and you want to (re)kindle this energy in your life this summer, join me.

Just five days before we start: Blue Fire, Red Strength

Only three spots remain for men ready to transform their relationship with women forever. Will one of them be yours?

~ Jordan

* * *

*‘It’s a good job you knew that I liked you. If you hadn’t had told me, I might never have known!’

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Yeah, this phrase is a mind-twister. While we both tell different versions of our ‘origin story’, I knew that Adelya liked me from the get-go. I could see the sparkle of it in her eyes; I saw her body-language become more animated, subtly clumsy, whenever I came by. In this regard, she was no mystery.

Yet it took over a month for her mind to catch up with what her body already knew. She wasn’t ready for a relationship, she had past hurt to process. Her ego, guarding against the vulnerability of it, protected her with silly stories, with judgments of who I was. If attraction  comes with resistance and terror, it’s because there’s a lot at stake. Empathy is everything.

But I was confident that, with time and with exposure—by pressing forward yet with patience—she would unravel in my direction.

I had fallen in love with a woman three years before I met Adelya. We came close, but it didn’t quite work out. My depth, my narrative, as a man, was not vast enough yet to contain her. If you were just a little more embodied, this woman told me, if you just a little more owned your purpose, I would have no choice but surrender to you. As it is, she said, I can just about hold on.

Talk about transformative feedback. She said that to me in the car, and it paralysed me from making a move.

That rejection began the greatest transformation of my life.

By the time Adelya came into view—the most sparkling star in the galaxy that always orbits around us-as-centre—I had enough of a pair of arms into which she could fall.

* * *