At the end of my meditation, when I am experiencing – more than I normally do – sensations of equanimity and openness, I sometimes receive blinding glimpses of the obvious. In a recent session, for example, as I was welcoming more Presence in my life, I realized that my ego and desires often became the reasons I am absent in the lives of people I care about. When my ego is running on high-octane fuel, my attempts at empathy run on fumes. I know, I know – being here now is a pretty simple Buddhist tenet, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to do.
For me, one of the main benefits of meditation is to notice more carefully the sensations, thoughts, feelings, and sense of self that occur in any given moment – to be more aware of what’s going on within me and around me. Over time, the practice of meditation has helped me increase my ability to be more conscious and present more of the time.
Essentially, the pursuit of consciousness is a journey of subtraction—subtracting the ego’s noise to reveal the clarity of the present moment. By practicing the dual awareness of “where am I?” (presence) and “who is talking?” (ego), I can sometimes move from a state of numbness and sleep to one of intentional consciousness.
Eros plays a role as well. For this post, I’m defining eros as an encapsulation of all desires. In Greek mythololgy, Eros is the god of love and passion; he is the son of Aphrodite and is chiefly associated with Pothos and Himeros (Longing and Desire). Managing our passions, longings, and desires, of course, is another foundational tenet of Buddhism. Desire, in Buddhism, is the source of suffering. Letting go of our attachments and desires is the key to getting on the path to Nirvana. First, however, we have to notice them. As simple as it seems, I constantly struggle to do that.
The interplay between ego, eros, and empathy is at the heart of human relationships. My older daughter often says, “Do you want to be right or do you want to be in relationship?” Great question. When I’m attached to being right (ego), I’m less likely to deepen a relationship through empathy.
To move from a state of isolation to one of profound connection, it’s important to navigate the internal “noise” generated by the self and its desires. By examining these forces through the lens of consciousness, it becomes clear that deep empathy requires us to manage the biological and psychological drives that otherwise obstruct our view of the “other.” Ten years ago, I wrote a post on how personal pain can be a path to empathy. Five years ago, I wrote about the importance of inquiry and humility in empathic conversations. If you want to take a deeper dive into empathy, the links will take you to those posts. But first, let’s deal more fully with ego and eros.
In short, ego filters and eros fantasizes. Ego feeds delusion and eros feeds desire. Ego results in hyperbole and empathy requires humility.
The ego serves as the primary filter through which we perceive reality. From a neurological and psychological perspective, the ego is a survival mechanism—a construct designed to protect our identity, status, and physical safety. However, when left unexamined, the ego becomes a source of constant “noise.” It views every interaction through the prism of “How does this affect me?” or “How do I look in this situation?” This self-referential loop creates a barrier to empathy, as we are too preoccupied with our own narrative to truly witness another person’s experience.
Eros, while often celebrated as the spark of life and creativity, introduces a different kind of static. In this context, eros refers to the primal drive of desire whether it is sexual attraction, the hunger for possession, or the need for validation. When eros dominates an interaction, the other person is frequently reduced to an object of desire or a means to an end. The biological imperative of eros is inherently self-serving; it seeks to satisfy a personal lack. Like the ego, eros narrows the field of consciousness, focusing it on a specific goal rather than allowing for a broad, non-judgmental Presence.
If the ego is the filter, Presence is the light that clears it. Presence is the state of being fully attuned to the “here and now” without the interference of past regrets or future anxieties – without ego and eros.
At the intersection of ego and eros is a tunnel of shadows that obscures the reality of others. When I am preoccupied with my own needs and desires, my ability to be empathic erodes. I am unable to decenter myself.
Several classic works in literature powerfully illustrate this dynamic:
In the Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Jay Gatsby’s “eros” is personified in Daisy Buchanan, who becomes less a person to him and more a symbol of his own self-actualization. His ego constructs a delusional reality where the past can be repeated and shifted to fit his narrative. This delusion radiates outward; the characters exist in a state of “carelessness,” smashing things and then retreating back into their money or privileged status – blinded by their own internal myths. Sound familiar?
In Madame Bovary, by Flaubert, Emma Bovary is perhaps literature’s most famous victim of romantic delusion. Driven by a relentless eros fueled by sentimental novels, she constantly seeks a transcendent passion that the real world cannot provide. She becomes so attached to her fantasies that she loses the ability to empathize with the mundane but genuine devotion of those around her. She becomes emotionally unavailable to anyone who does not serve her romantic narrative. Are you starting to see some parallels to someone we know all too well?
In Remains of the Day, by Ishiguro, Stevens, the butler, is consumed by an “ego of professional identity.” His desire is directed toward the ideal of “greatness” through service and total emotional restraint. This professional ego creates a profound delusion: he believes that by suppressing his humanity, he is achieving a higher purpose. This commitment to his role completely numbs his ability to empathize. He finally realizes that he has spent a lifetime ignoring the emotional lives of the people closest to him, illustrating how a rigid ego can act as a barrier to human connection. Hmm, does the butler remind you of a person whose ego is entirely dependent on being “the Master?”
When I started writing this post, it was not my intention to make it a political statement. But as I wrote about the generic themes of ego, eros and empathy, I kept getting blasted by the obvious glimpses of our feckless President. He is full of ego, full of eros, and has no empathy. He could easily be Jay in Great Gatsby, or Emma in Madame Bovary, or the butler (don’t you love that image) in Remains of the Day.
No, we don’t need to return to classic literature to understand the relationship of ego and eros to empathy. We simply need to turn on the news on any day to see how malignant narcissism and unrestrained eros can completely obliterate empathy. And, in this case, obliterate is an accurate verb.
I’m hoping we can reduce the noise in our hearts and minds from egotistical needs and erotic desires. I’m hoping we can heighten our Presence and deepen our empathy with more people in more moments. And, Ohh, god help us, how I am hoping we can find leaders who are less filled with ego and eros and more open to empathy. May it be so.
