Category Archives: Guest Writer

You Belong Here (Whether You Know it or Not)

You can read this piece in its entirety on the Cosmophilia website — the site of Planet Wave’s 2015 annual readings for all 12 Sun signs and rising signs. You are welcome to comment on this article below or on Cosmophilia. — Amanda P.

by Kelley Rico

What is before and behind us are small matters compared to what is within us, said Thoreau and a few others. What lies within is the real birthright we seek and must claim to be fully alive. We are the mystery we seek to solve.

The fact of our presence here indicates a level of belonging here, and it is interesting that we nevertheless struggle so deeply with feelings of separation and doubt about all of it.

Photo by Kelley Rico

Photo by Kelley Rico


What we need to help solve our mystery and claim our birthright is a witness to our experience, not someone to judge it and assess our worth. Although far more common, the latter leaves us no wiser, and minus the mystery as well.

Fortunately, these many mysteries come equipped with blueprints and maps, as can be seen in our natal charts. The energies of the universe are essentially neutral and we move through them with greater or lesser ease depending on how we think about them. We can learn about that thinking, how to direct it, how to learn from it and how to claim our true and real selves by investigating the particular picture of time presented by a natal chart.

Your natal chart shows where the fault lines and powers are in you. It’s your cosmic blood and bones, so to speak. Pivotal to finding your inner voice and path wherever it may be or lead to, it also shows how to reach the healing that your birthright calls for.

That takes what it takes in terms of effort and perhaps more importantly, awareness of a different kind of time. Time is not a straight and unitary line, and part of the challenge of claiming your birthright is realizing how this works in your life. There is no doubt that your birthright and healing can be found and achieved using the wonderful tool of a natal chart, picturing as it does both you as an individual and you moving through all time.

Continue reading here.

Finding Equilibrium in Seesawing Libidos

When writer Mark Jaffe’s wife was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, their sex life reversed polarities in the extreme thanks to one of her medications. Along the way to encountering unique insights, they eventually manage to find some equilibrium — and an unexpected shared purpose. In terms of clearing the ground and building anew, this story is perfect for the last Uranus-Pluto square. — Amanda P.

By Mark Jaffe for The New York Times

Somehow our three children were out of the house and otherwise engaged, leaving my wife and me a rare moment to ourselves. So I suggested to Karen that we take advantage by heading straight to the bedroom. She rebuffed me, asking, “How do men get anything done when they’re thinking about sex all the time?”

Illustration by Brian Rea for The New York Times.

Illustration by Brian Rea for The New York Times.

Perhaps I could have come up with some explanation, but that’s not really what she was after. We had been married for 15 years by then and were raising three daughters.

In addition, Karen was a busy ob/gyn and part-time mohel. Our opportunities for having sex were scarce. Karen’s interest was even scarcer.

Friends who married long before I did told me that passion may wane in a marriage, but the love doesn’t have to. This was from couples who were still in their 20s.

I couldn’t believe it. To me, single and looking for love and sex, the two seemed so intertwined that I couldn’t imagine one ending while the other blossomed. Fifteen years into my marriage, I was hoping that just a touch of rekindled lust would enable my love to more easily flourish.

Karen wasn’t as concerned about commingling those twin emotions. Her point of view was reinforced each day at work when her patients complained how their interest in sex had faded to the background of life’s challenges.

For these women and my wife, there had to be the perfect confluence of events for sex to happen. My wife’s requirements were that her job had to be going well, the children didn’t need her attention, the house had to be clean, the temperature had to be between 76 and 84 degrees, and the Democrats had to control at least one branch of government.

Her patients would ask if there wasn’t some pill that would let them ignore the externals and give them back their desire. Karen would assess the acuteness of the concern and try to offer a solution, but she knew there was no magic pill. All she could do was commiserate.

She would come home and tell me how typical we were and that I would just have to deal with my oversize libido like all the other unsatisfied married men out there.

Then we learned she had Parkinson’s.

Suddenly we were faced with new challenges that completely outweighed any issue of unequal sexual desire. Our fantasy of the next 35 years had included Karen staying in a job she loved for as long as she wished and then for the two of us to shift to a retirement of travel and newfound hobbies.

That image was replaced by one depicting her early exit from the job she loved and a retirement filled with financial concerns, frequent doctor visits and uncertain health.

Our first adjustment was to try to live in and enjoy the present. It took a few months of finding the right medication and dosage, but since Karen’s Parkinson’s was in the early stages and could be controlled, it wasn’t long before her natural optimism took over.

For now she would be living her same life, with the minor addition of keeping a secret (so as not to alarm anyone or harm her career), and taking some pills each day.

Those pills would change our life more than the Parkinson’s.

Continue reading here.

Photo by Diana Hay

Choose Higher

In this Featured Article from Cosmophilia, Registered Nurse and energy worker Diana Hay explores the difficulties in feeling like she’s bouncing back and forth across realities, reminding us that wisdom lies within. Read the full article here. — Amanda P.

by Diana Hay

While I was deployed to Afghanistan, I was the leader of a small medical team. As a conscientiously spiritual person I vowed to myself that I would lead with integrity and wisdom, that I would follow my internal guidance, and use my heart as my foremost leadership tool.

Photo by Diana Hay

Photo by Diana Hay

I did just that while I was deployed. It was a disaster.

The military leadership saw compassion as a weakness and my cooperative leadership as poor leadership. Even though the team members flourished, the leadership would not condone my user-friendly guidance.

There was an investigation. I got sent home early, humiliated, my career shattered. My world began to split down the seams.

My long-time spiritual teacher, Jo Dunning, taught me that not only does everything happen for a reason, but everything comes as a gift for my benefit. I knew with all my heart that I was following my guidance and doing the right thing. Why was I getting kicked out of a life-long career?

My entire soul gave a strong middle-finger salute to God at this point and asked, “What the fuck?!”

I began to ask for help. I never ask for help, but ask I did. I hired a lawyer to champion me. I requested aid from angels, ascended masters and gods of all religions. I prayed, did energy work, used tarot, astrology, magic, oils, candles, mantras, meditation, even banishment spells. The more I asked for help, the worse the situation got.

I remembered that back in 1998 I received an astrological reading from a divinely gifted astrologer named Eric Francis. My chart spoke through him as he interpreted. He said that I was born during an eclipse, which brings a sense of destiny. I realized that part of me already knew that. He also said that I should get out of the military — that I didn’t belong there. I should have listened.

The sensation of no longer belonging kept happening. I remember back when the troubles started in Afghanistan; one particular emergency resuscitation in our trauma bay comes to mind. I was looking at the patient, writhing in pain from bullet wounds as we were sticking needles in him. A mystic calm enveloped me from the barbaric treatment. While in this bubble, I knew there were other choices. My entire being down to my bones knew: there is a better way.

Continue reading here.

On Being Four: What Active Counseling Taught me About Childhood Wounding

Editor’s Note: This week’s sex-and-relationships guest-post comes from Christina Louise Dietrich, whom we’ve featured a couple of times now. You can read more of her writing at her own blog. — Amanda

By Christina Louise Dietrich

The truth is like a lion. You don’t have to defend it. Let it loose. It will defend itself.
— Augustine of Hippo

Around the beginning of December 2014—somewhat consciously and somewhat not—Brendan and I began the process of healing my father wound. To say that experience has changed my life is an understatement of almost cosmic proportions; primarily, because I now believe myself to be a manifestation of Sovereign Feminine. Which is a radical and wholly new experience for me as a woman raised under patriarchy, because it means I have begun to reclaim my intuition. Something that was stolen from me as a child.

Christina Louise Dietrich

Christina Louise Dietrich

You see, a woman’s ability to trust her intuitive voice and be fully in her adult power is a dangerous threat to male dominance, so patriarchy keeps women locked in childhood by raping and beating their intuition out of them. Of course, patriarchy also traps men in childhood, beginning with the act of forcibly cutting off their foreskin and then progressively and methodically removing nearly all forms of loving, affirmative affection or validation. Because violent oppression is democratic like that.

For the last six weeks I have felt more powerful, grounded, and clear than ever before in my life. I make decisions, give voice to my grievances, and declare what I want with a confidence that I attribute solely to intuition and my novel ability to hear/trust what she says. Things that, had anyone asked me six months ago, I might have cited as benefits I could conceivably expect to arise as a result of such a healing. But certainly nothing I would have felt I deserved or was worthy to receive.

What I didn’t expect was the actual felt and embodied presence of my literal 4-year-old self.

Of course, the further I get on this journey, the more it makes perfect sense she would come to the forefront of my psyche: because I was 4 years old when my sexual abuse began. So, once I was able to touch that experience in a way that felt relevant to my adult self, once I could fully grieve the loss of what was taken from me, OF COURSE Little Chrissy would be more “here” to my mind and body. It made sense she would be at the surface as opposed to deep within my mind palace, hidden away where she had been safe and virtually unseen for the last 40 years.

Little Chrissy was present in my daily life and most of those ways were positive. I could feel her in how my playing with Avery changed because I could drop into it so much more easily, fluidly, and authentically. I made more funny character voices, readily joined and added to his stories, encouraged interchange in ways that hadn’t occurred to me before. There were times when I really felt like a little kid reborn and it was wonderful. I felt joyous and free to be silly, to dance, to be in my body.

Little Chrissy even got to have a wonderful cosmic experience on psychedelic mushrooms. As with the ecstasy, we set a strong, safe container appropriate for a Little and then proceeded to receive the mushrooms’ download. Little Chrissy was *totally* in her element because—as a divine and magical child presence—she intimately understood the mushrooms as well as what they had to say about where we come from, who we are. Being able to channel her fully while also communing with the mushrooms gave me powerful insight on what I’ve come to understand as the Universal Perspective.

A perspective that recognizes all life as equal and divine, filled with golden light and emanating from stardust. A perspective that allowed me to recognize Brendan and his soul as something I’d seen before, perhaps many times over the millenia, like commuters passing every day in a train station. Which explains why he has always felt like Home to me. That night, the divine in me recognized and resonated with the divine in him, and because of that I feel a little less alone on this planet. A little less identified with and clinging to the body I currently inhabit. A little less homesick.

There’s a lot more I’ll eventually share with you about what the mushrooms told and continue to tell me, about who I am and what’s happening to me as I continue the process of waking and reclaiming. And for now, this is enough. Suffice to say, I experienced Little Chrissy as a beautiful child, full of love, pure and divine; not yet injured, civilized, or abused. She is my lapis lazuli, my psyche’s most precious jewel.

Over the following week or so, I continued to feel her open loveliness, but then it began to change; I felt small, sad, scared, and vulnerable. Defensive; angry even. There was still something at work I couldn’t quite put a finger on, couldn’t locate fully in my body. Something was blocked and wasn’t budging no matter how much solo loving attention I tried to give it.

In addition, Brendan and I had to deal with the reality she didn’t want to have sex. Like *really* didn’t want to. He would kiss my neck and my body shriveled; I could feel my yoni clamp down/close up like a scared little oyster hiding in the corner. This was not the response I was accustomed to feeling when my sexy-hot husband kissed my neck, and I didn’t like it; I felt embarrassed and wholly unlike myself. I could feel my programmed inclination to bypass intuition and “just do it” sneaking up from behind.

But I couldn’t, not anymore. Intuition and Little Chrissy weren’t going to let that happen and, as a now-sovereign female, I had sworn to keep them safe, to believe what they told me and act upon it. Ten days into feeling like my body was working directly against us, we decided to set another ecstatic container with the express intent to Counsel on Parts, a powerful Holistic Peer Counseling technique.

Inner parts are those we feel inside. Similarly to many meditation practices, we can bring our awareness inside ourselves, witnessing what parts are there and what they want. We can even relate to each individual part as its own person, an approach that teaches us how to understand our internal world and which system(s) work best for us.

When we give our parts loving attention, we search for the Balance of Attention in order to bring about release. Remember that this process is neither linear nor especially predictable; our patterns tend to feel more like mazes, all twists and turns. As we learn to feel the Balance of Attention more acutely, we are better able to follow the pattern’s path and support its eventual release.

We were operating under the belief that if we held loving space for her and listened to what she had to say, she could feel sufficiently heard to stop interrupting us with the intensity that only an urgent 4-year-old can muster. We had already introduced Little Chrissy to both our adult bodies during the mushroom trip as a way to help her feel safe with us, to know we weren’t going to be “like the others”—that we had no intent to harm or scare her. Which was a critical step in our journey because at this point we knew the next ecstatic container would be specifically about sex.

Little Chrissy, as an internal Part of me, needed to experience us (that is, she and I) jointly having loving sex with Brendan as a contradiction to her lived experience 39 years ago. She needed to trust us in the present.

30 minutes after ingesting the ecstasy, I could feel Little Chrissy right up front in my psyche, where she stayed for about 45 minutes until she receded slightly, allowing me to experience a more integrated state. That is, I could still feel her, but I wasn’t “acting like a child” or trying to channel her directly. Brendan and I spent about three hours lovingly affirming who we were to one another, to our families, to our communities, and to the world. We were essentially lining our container with safety, love, intention, and acknowledgement—all things critical for the deep work we were about to undertake.

We then slowly started to have sex. I had been feeling something like mild abdominal gas for the past hour, which I’d attributed to either the drug or the snacks I’d eaten earlier. It was irritating, but nothing new to me as a lifelong sufferer of intestinal upset and certainly not something I considered stopping or slowing down for. But as he entered me, it got worse; it was a tight little knot right up inside the very core of my belly. It was deep and not moving like I’d expect gas to.

So, he got off and laid next to me. I put both my hands on my belly and began speaking directly to the knot. I told her I knew she was scared and that I was here to love her, to give her some attention. Brendan reiterated “This attention is for you, little one.” I told her that we needed to keep going and that yes, it was going to hurt, but I promised I would stop if she told me to. I asked her if she could trust me and, after a little bit, she said Yes, okay.

This time I got on top of Brendan and as he entered me, almost immediately I felt the knot seize up with pain. It was at the end of my vagina, right where it had always been. Where it had been for so long I had never questioned its presence. As I rubbed back and forth across the tip of his cock, I began to cry and then get angry. Angry. Angrier. The more I rubbed against that spot the more I cried and the more scared I got. I was able to stay there for about 90 seconds before pulling off and rolling over onto the bed.

I was shaking uncontrollably, my teeth chattering together like I was lying in snow. My whole abdomen was hot and tense. Brendan put his arms around me and held me, eventually putting his finger in between my teeth to stop the chattering. And then it happened: I was hit with a massive intuitive download and in an instant I knew the truth. I hadn’t just been molested as a child; I’d been raped. Repeatedly. With either penis, fingers, or object. Raped hard enough to wound, to leave that hard little knot.

As I lay there, sobbing, accepting what I had known-but-not-known my whole life, the wound began revealing itself to me, lighting up and getting hot so I could trace its outline. Its edges are jagged and sharp, like shards of glass. It looks like what I imagine a shotgun wound to the gut would: it spreads across my entire abdomen, all the way up my left side and into my armpit, and—most importantly—straight into my solar plexus, the seat of my intuition. And in that moment I was rocked by the cell-level understanding that The Affliction was a result of my having been raped.

For 31 years—since I first suffered The Affliction at age 12—she’d been trying to get my attention and I couldn’t understand her, couldn’t hear what she was saying. Because my intuition was broken, scarred; turned into a hard knot. And so she got disowned, left behind; alone and in the dark. No wonder I couldn’t stop shaking once I found her.

It didn’t stop there. Over the next two hours, my intuition showed me things about my family that directly contradicted my lived experience of them and what they had told me. I saw things they would *never* talk about. Things that would likely get me disowned if I spoke of them publicly. And I knew they were true; in my bones I fucking KNEW. During those two hours I remembered conversations I’d had with my mother over the years that never made sense, random things I’d overheard aunts and uncles saying, memories left in dark corners for decades that finally had the context they required to make sense.

It was like that scene in V for Vendetta when Inspector Finch asks Dominic whether knowing the truth would be worth the consequences. Because I clearly saw a chain of events, things that would otherwise have been deemed coincidence or laughably impossible, things that suddenly aligned with both my body’s intelligence and lived memories. I could see it…all of it, going back to my great-grandparents. My mother always said I remembered things nobody else could, and now I knew why. Someone had to remember, to be The Witness. That someone is me.

I’ve since received additional downloads that I’ll definitely be blogging about because WHOA AWESOME. I’ve also counseled extensively on what happened with both peers and my therapist. As I integrate all the aspects of being four—including the angry, wounded maiden and the divine star child—my understanding of who I am grows and becomes more defined. I see many things about what I’m here to do and how I might go about that.

What I specifically want to make a point of is this: there are parts inside each of us that need loving attention. Parts that may have been silenced decades ago. We may believe they have nothing to teach us, no wisdom to impart. Well, I’m here to tell you that’s not true because they do and they want to. If we can only be courageous enough to face them and hear their truth.

————-

Christina Louise Dietrich, a technical writer by trade, says of herself: “I write because I am claiming the voice my family and my society tried to silence, the voice that was my divine birthright. I am a woman, a mother, a feminist, a wife. I am compassionate, judgmental, loving, a bully, empathetic, obstinate, caring, rigid, and creative. I’m passionate about systems, beauty, process, experience, trees, interconnections, transitions, logistics, balance, and clarity. I manifest the Amazon, the Androgyne, and the Mother-to-be-Crone.”

Spiraling Towards the Center

Here’s another of the Featured Articles by a Planet Waves collaborator that has just been published to the Cosmophilia website, and is open for everyone to read. Here, Stephani Stephens provides insight into the ways Jungian techniques have helped her to discover her own belonging. The full article is available here. — Amanda P.

by Stephani Stephens

Sometimes I wonder if I am going crazy. What is it about this particular era, all the white noise ‘out there’ making the ‘in here’ the only way to make sense of it all? The louder and more hectic life becomes, the more I crave the confines of an inner perspective to help me find my way.

Carl Gustav Jung

Carl Gustav Jung

It is no wonder with my Sun and Moon in Libra and six planets sitting over the 8th and 9th houses. I am an ENFP (Extravert, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceptive) on the Myers Briggs scale, a Wooden Dragon in Chinese astrology, and a medium with a PhD.

I am also a Jungian, meaning that how I live, how I read, what I watch, and how I interface with the world is influenced by the ideas of Carl Jung. And with all of these prisms of perspectives and ways to know myself, I ask almost weekly, “Do I fit in? Do I belong here and now?”

Having all of these ways to explore who I am doesn’t make living any easier. Rather, I become more fluent in the specifics of who I am while I’m struggling.

By calling on divination, astrology, psychology, shamanic techniques and other chthonic assistance (concerning, belonging to, or inhabiting the underworld), I can honestly say that at least I’ve tried to grapple gracefully with the ebbs and flows of life. I’ve tapped into those internal settings that bring meaning and value to my decisions. Perhaps this is why I am a fan of Jung. He too struggled, doubted, and faced his loudest inner critics while wondering whether he fit in — and if so, how?

Continue reading here.

Madame Zolonga’s Guide to Cosmophobia

Have you stopped by the gorgeous, jam-packed site for Cosmophilia: You Belong Here yet? In addition to the extensive audio and written sign readings, we’ve published a full slate of Featured Articles by Planet Waves readers and collaborators that are fully open for everyone to read. Below is the beginning of Madame Zolonga’s tongue-in-cheek “bad advice” astrology column; you can read the rest here. — Amanda P.

By Madame Zolonga

Well-meaning relatives like to give new parents little books for the baby with titles like On The Day You Were Born. You probably have one on your shelf right now.

The title would be more honest if it said The Day You Arrived because it’s clear you don’t come from Earth at all. Yes, it’s true. You don’t belong here at all. And astrology’s here to prove why. Behold, the origins of your alienation revealed!

Aries: It’s like that scene from Blazing Saddles, when the sheriff comes riding into town: there you are on your dandy Appaloosa with your spiffy, new badge, all ready to rope up the bad guys and give your life for the damsels and the demoiselles — but the damned welcoming committee can’t even pronounce your name! Whether your skin is tan, brown or pink, it’s no different. You’re always the stranger in town. Not from around these parts, anyway. It doesn’t help that you secretly always feel like this is your first rodeo and that your brain runs with its engine in the back-end, like a Volkswagen. For you, every day is another ‘birth day’ — it’s fight or flight into the bright, white light.

Taurus: You can’t have it. Whatever it is, it’s not yours. This feeling started early. You weren’t breastfed. Or if you were, and your mother (goddess bless her) tried her best to be a 24-hour milk diner, even the Ephesian Artemis couldn’t match your appetite for more. You still can’t figure out how, on a planet so prodigiously abundant, you landed on a continent called Want. Too often you feel like Adam without a Garden of Eden. You’ve got a hunch it’s because, back home, your Daddy burned it down. Rebuilding your garden, then, is your life’s work. But here be talking snakes. When you master THAT language, you’re back in business, babe.

Gemini: You ARE the information superhighway. If only you could get the rest of the world on board, they’d never need the Internet again. The reason you don’t fit in is lack of telepathy. Not your lack, you see. Theirs. Cell phones? Cable? Routers? Really? It’s like talking to the fuckin’ walls. Why don’t you just pull two steel cans from the recycling bin and string ‘em together? You landed in a backward-assed zone of the Milky Way, for sure. It’s no wonder you prefer monitoring three flat screens and your Twitter feed while you’re on the phone to your sister: it’s the only time you feel you’ve remotely achieved cruising speed.

Read all 12 signs by Madame Zolonga here.

My bottom line:

Editor’s Note: This week’s sex-and-relationships guest-writer Aggie Sez at SoloPoly.com. Given that we’re at the midpoint of Mercury’s retrograde in Aquarius, the sign of groups, this piece about how to communicate clearly a “bottom line” in relationships seems a good fit. (And whether you’re poly or not, the question of relationship hierarchies is worth considering.) — Amanda P.

What I require and expect in my solo poly relationships

By Aggie Sez

The best — and sometimes hardest — part about choosing solo polyamory is that I can never coast in my intimate relationships. When you’re this far off the standard relationship escalator, you can’t afford to make assumptions about how relationships work, or about partners or metamours.

"NOTE: My intimate partners should not handle relationships like this," says Aggie.

“NOTE: My intimate partners should not handle relationships like this,” says Aggie.

Through much trial and error, I’ve tried my best to develop good relationship skills — including good communication skills. I don’t claim to be perfect, or even great, as a partner or metamour. But I do try to be forthright and transparent.

In that spirit, since I can’t take anything for granted in my relationships (and since I flunked telepathy) I’m using my words right now. This post is intended to let people who might be considering getting intimately connected to me, in any sense, know up front what my bottom line is in intimate relationships.

I’m posting this to my blog because I think it’s helpful for anyone to know, and be able to articulate, their own needs and expectations, for any kind of relationship — regardless of style. I’m not saying your bottom line should match mine. But I am saying: If you don’t have your own clear bottom line, you’re asking for trouble.

I’ve found it’s absolutely essential to know what your own bottom line is. To be clear and confident about it, and not waver or cave under pressure. To not settle for, or rationalize, getting less than what you need. To not cave to pressure, manipulation or abuse. To be as flexible as you can, but to know where bending or changing would be unhealthy or destructive. And ultimately, to be willing and able to walk away from relationships which fall irretrievably below your bottom line — even if that means not having any partners, or enduring some loss.

Knowing and sticking to your bottom line is especially crucial for solo poly people. So far, most people don’t really understand solo polyamory. Having relationships with us often involves a big learning curve for people. Often they harbor conscious or unconscious assumptions or biases rooted in the escalator approach to relationships.

Consequently our partners and metamours may expect that solo poly folks will eventually end up playing by escalator rules to some extent. Or they assume we are (or should be) willing to subordinate our feelings, needs, priorities, desires or autonomy to a hierarchy. Or, conversely, that relationships aren’t really important to us — so it doesn’t really matter much if we’re not treated so well by partners or metamours.

Aggie’s bottom line in intimate relationships:

1. Honest and open relationships only. I only participate in intimate relationships which are both fully honest (that is, all major partners and metamours know about each other, and the nature/extent of those connections) and sexually and romantically nonexclusive. I don’t help people cheat, and I don’t do don’t-ask-don’t tell relationships.

I will not avoid mentioning or acknowledging any of my partners to shield other people from their own insecurities. However, I may be willing, with direct negotiation, to support partners and metamours in expanding their comfort zone — as long as this isn’t being used as an excuse to cling to insecurity or prevent change.

Honest and open applies to my life, too. I am out as poly in every context. I won’t step back into the closet, which means I’m not a good match for people who’d want or need me to lie about or conceal any of my relationships, or that I’m poly.

2. Metamour relationships. Everyone in a relationship network affects each other, directly and indirectly. I like to know who I’m affecting, and who might affect me, so we can all take each other into consideration and more realistically grasp the context of overlapping realtionships.

Therefore, I usually want to meet — or at least communicate directly with — my significant metamours before a relationship progresses too far. (“Trust, and verify.”) We don’t need to be friends, or close, or even interact much all. But it’s important to me to establish direct communication and mutual goodwill; or to figure out how to adapt if that’s not feasible.

3. I don’t do hierarchy. I don’t wish to have an escalator-style “primary” or “nesting” relationship — but I am never a “secondary” partner (or person), in any sense. I expect full respect and consideration as a human being.

Hierarchy basically means that, at least in some situations (if not all), certain partners/relationships in a network always trump others by default. This undermines everyone’s autonomy — even that of people in a primary-style relationship. Worse, hierarchy actively disadvantages nonprimary partners in their own relationships. Hierarchy is fundamentally competitive, not collaborative. It reflects a scarcity mindset and a willingness to discount some people’s investment in their own relationships. That totally doesn’t jibe with my own ethics.

This is why, I require a full and equal voice with my partners regarding the form that our own relationship takes, and in how we negotiate and collaborate to handle our connection. In addition to negotiating our boundaries and voluntary commitments, this also includes negotiating what we do/don’t wish to keep each other in the loop about concerning our other relationships, major life decisions, etc.

My partners and I probably will to take our other partners or priorities into consideration (in terms or what we are each willing or able to offer in our relationship). However, metamours do not get to make any decisions or demands concerning any relationship that I am part of. I don’t enter or remain in relationships where I’m expected to comply with rules that I did not consent to or negotiate on, or where a veto in any sense (explicit or implicit) may exist.

Rather than deferring to hierarchy, I offer negotiation and collaboration. I am able and willing to negotiate directly with partners and metamours where our boundaries, priorities or requests are concerned. I’m really good at finding solutions. I’ve found this tends to yield better results that make everyone happier (even though no one always gets everything they want), compared to some partners/relationships always trumping others by default.

4. I don’t ask for permission, but I do offer consideration. My partners do not get to make decisions or demands/rules for any relationship of mine which they are not part of. Nor do I expect, or want, them to ask my permission for how they conduct their relationships.

I expect my partners to respect and not interfere with any other relationships and partners I may have. I offer this in return. If they have concerns, questions, jealousy/insecurity, etc. concerning my other relationships, they may raise this with me calmly and respectfully — and I will listen to and consider what they have to say.

I do generally prefer to keep my partners in the loop about what’s going on in my life (including my love/sex life). I often invite or welcome my partners’ (and sometimes, my metamours’) perspectives. I’m generally open to hearing or discussing their concerns or questions. And I prefer, but don’t demand, the same consideration in return.

5. No defaults or assumed obligations. My partners and I are not entitled to each other’s time, attention, affection, sex, etc. We are not each other’s “default” anything. Our relationship does not oblige us in any ways aside from mutual honesty, respect and consideration.

If either of us wants or needs something in our relationship, I expect that we’ll ask for it, using our words. “No,” or a counteroffer, is always an acceptable response — although this should be delivered kindly or considerately, knowing that sometimes it can be scary or risky to speak up for what you really need.

6. Safer sex. I thoroughly enjoy safer sex! I also have high standards for communicating about STI risks, and I talk with partners clearly about sexual health, likes, and dislikes, right up front. (That’s fun!) This is actually a bit of a skills test: I’ve found that people who are accomplished at, and enthusiastic about, discussing and doing a variety of safer sex techniques tend to be vastly better lovers and partners.

When starting any sexual relationship, I choose to only engage in barriered penetrative sex. I will consider and negotiate other risk factors situationally. I get regular STI testing and am willing to share results upon request, as well as discuss aspects of my sex life that may have a bearing on the health of people in my network. (More about my personal approach to safer sex.)

After time (as we establish trust and if I feel confident about our risk tolerances, boundaries, STI status and testing, etc.) I may sometimes choose to forego barriers. However, unbarriered sex is neither a guarantee nor a goal for me. It may work in some relationships and not others.

If I do decide to have unbarriered sex with a partner, they or I may choose to resume using barriers at any time, for any reason. This should not be seen as having any effect on our relationship — it’s not a “demotion,” etc. People who aren’t OK with this, or who “tokenize” unbarried sex as a symbol of relationship rank or quality, are not compatible with me in a sexual relationship.

7. Constructive communication. I expect to communicate calmly, directly, clearly, constructively and as promptly as possible with partners (and, if necessary, metamours) regarding key questions, concerns, boundaries or issues involving our relationship or relationship network. It’s OK, and healthy, to express strong feelings; but it’s not OK for us to interact in a blaming, accusatory, condescending, entitled, manipulative or abusive way.

I expect and invite my partners and metamours to speak up to me directly as well, with similar civility and consideration, as needed. Use your words: I do not abide manipulative or passive-aggressive behavior.

Things change, and I expect my partners to tell me when things that might affect our relationship shift, so we can negotiate and adapt as needed. I expect us to listen to each other, especially when that’s hard, and to collaborate on finding options and solutions.

I do not remain in relationships with partners who can’t or won’t communicate calmly and constructively with me. Also, I limit contact with metamours who lack this skill or willingness. (Although I’m happy to interact constructively and amiably with metamours to the extent we both desire.)

8. We are not going to shack up, no matter how long our relationship lasts. I am not interested in sharing a home or finances with any partner, or identifying strongly as a couple rather than an individual. With some of my intimate partners, we may end up sharing very deep investment or commitment in other ways, or spending lots of time together — each relationship I’m in finds its own level over time.

This is not a distancing tactic. I absolutely need my alone time, and my autonomy. I am a better partner (and make better decisions in relationships) when my housing, finances, support network, identity, and circle of family/friends is not dependent on any intimate relationship; and when my partners are not enmeshed with me in those ways.

9. I expect cooperation and goodwill, not perfection. Everyone makes mistakes. Also, people and life (and thus relationships) are always changing. so it’s inevitable that sometimes we’ll hurt, offend, transgress, misunderstand, embarrass, or neglect each other — perhaps even badly. That’s just part of being in real relationships with real people. I prefer to discuss mistakes and transgressions calmly and learn from them, to heal and become better people through that process.

I strive to always expect, and assume mutual goodwill with my partners and metamours; that we will not intentionally try to hurt or undermine each other. I don’t abide scorekeeping, territoriality, retribution or “pulling rank.” I will not remain in relationships where resentment, competition or contempt become entrenched in our dynamic.

10. We are always free to leave or change our relationship. My strong preference is to discuss and negotiate, sooner rather than later, the possibility of ending or significantly transitioning my intimate relationships. Also, I strongly prefer to transition into viable (not in-name-only) friendship with former partners and metamours. However, I don’t require friendship — or indeed, any contact at all — post-relationship.

We don’t necessarily need to agree when a relationship is no longer worth keeping. I don’t do “zombie relationships,” where we continue on out of habit or inertia, rather than from desire and caring. I won’t stay in a relationship only because my partner isn’t ready for it to transition or end. But I will always try to end or transition relationships kindly and considerately, where possible.

11. Joy. We must continue to bring joy to each other. Maybe not every single day; there are always hard times and lulls in any relationship. Maybe not screaming-in-ecstasy joy all the time. But even a quiet smile, a shared joke, a co-created accomplishment, that’s all joy. Without joy, what’s the point? That’s what makes my world — including my relationships, and this list — “go to eleven.”

…OK, that’s my bottom line. Other people probably have different considerations.

What’s your bottom line, and how well do you communicate it?

Planet Waves last featured Aggis Sez in June 2014 with the piece, “5 Ways To Get Enough Touch, Without All the Pressure.”

Belonging Through a Metamorphosis of Identity

In addition to the extensive Cosmophilia audio and written sign readings, we’ve published a full slate of Featured Articles by Planet Waves collaborators that are fully open for everyone to read. Here is the beginning of Louise Lowrie’s essay about individuating from her twin, its psychological upheaval, and ultimately knowing that witnessing, self-work and healing can happen in many different containers. Read the full piece at Cosmophilia. — Amanda P.

by Louise Lowrie

It’s like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story. — Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

I belong here, as we all do, amongst others but in our own individual vehicle of travel. This is what I now know.

Photo by Eric Francis

Photo by Eric Francis

My story started somewhat differently. I came into this world with a sidekick: my twin brother. Two minutes older to be precise. My sense of self was about being part of another in a symbiotic relationship.

However, the journey of forming my identity as an individual wasn’t planned, and it felt like it came from nowhere. To cut a long story short it happened when my brother decided to get married. It felt like a loss so raw, cutting, deep and wrenching that it was as though I had lost part of me. My other half was still in this world, but I no longer was part of him, nor he part of me.

It was like I had a silent witness by me as I grew up. Until eleven we were at the same schools, and then made our way to college and university in different parts of the world. We had our respective girlfriends/boyfriends, but still he was there; my best friend, my soul mate.

He was the quieter side of me, but he saw me, knew me, accepted me and loved me. He still does but in a different way now.

My brother’s engagement felt like a severing of all I knew in relationship. It felt like a death. So, I struggled. My sense of self and of belonging in this world felt utterly lost. I felt like I was living on this planet while having been sucked into a vortex. So much of what I saw in myself was through my brother’s eyes.

Continue reading here.