The Start of My First Book (and a scary ask)

Hi.

I am writing a book (working title: "F*cking Together") about the rise of sacred sexuality, community living, and the transformation economy. It's told through my own journey: overcoming a lifelong panic disorder, working at Meow Wolf and trying to create art without listening to my body, trying to build an intentional community with a polyamorous couple, and ultimately finding my way to the world of sacred sexuality where I now regularly facilitate epic events of healing and transformation.

Below you'll find the first 1000 words of the book. This is scary in itself because this is the start to a deeply personal story where sexuality is discussed openly. But if you read it and feel like, "Damn, I'd love to read more," then I'm going to make a big, scary ask of you:

Is there someone in the publishing industry you think should read this? Is there a literary agent you would be willing to connect me with?

I know getting a first book published is not for the faint of heart. But I believe so strongly that this story is worth telling and also that there are A LOT of people right now seeking ways to expand connection and consciousness. I think we're going to see a huge wave of interest in sacred sexuality in the next few years, and I want to be at the front, helping more and more people see that there are less traditional paths for overcoming loneliness and disconnection from our bodies and from others.

Feel free to reach out to me directly if you have any suggestions.

And now...

Blame loneliness. The kind of loneliness that comes after a great and terrible heartbreak. And also the kind of everyday loneliness that exists in a life where one lives alone, feels disconnected from friends spread across the country, and feels the imbalance of a job that takes more energy and psychic space than it should– but maybe it’s OK because it makes the loneliness seem farther away? And then, you know, a global pandemic happens, which amplifies loneliness with life-threatening stakes.?

I say "blame," but I guess I could also thank loneliness. Without the crushing pressure of isolation and fear that my aloneness might be a forever affliction, I started in motion the events that led to this book. Misguided, impulsive, intuitive, terrifying events. Events that, when placed together in the container of these pages, feel both wild enough to warrant writing them down and sharing them with you, but also rooted in a commonality of this moment now, in 2024. Shared longings to be understood, seen, held by others in more meaningful ways than we’ve been taught is possible outside of a traditional, nuclear family model.?

I stumbled into a journey over the last six years to quell loneliness. Monogamous boyfriends, polyamorous relationships, BDSM play partners, an intentional community with shared property ownership, making art in various configurations of collaboration, and finally arriving in the sacred sexuality world, which completely upended my notion of what it means to be together with other humans in ways that are impossibly deep and transformational.?

Even as the world feels hugely volatile and unstable at the moment, I also feel a sea change toward Something More. The rise of community living. The rise in psychedelic exploration. And now a small but growing interest in sacred sexuality*. [*Sacred sexuality is the idea that sexuality is more than just physical pleasure, that sexual energy and connection can be a source of healing and access to source/God/the divine– whatever you want to call it]. For me, this signals a true longing: for deeper, more meaningful connections and to find freedom from the trauma living in our bodies. If not from actual big T traumatic events experienced personally, then from ancestral trauma carried through Epigenetics and/or the trauma of just living a generally isolated, disconnected existence. There is fear that gets instilled in us when we subconsciously believe we are not safe in our own bodies nor, perhaps, with those closest to us.?

This is a moment in the evolution of human existence filled with fear—mostly fear of the unknown. What is coming? Who is against me? Who is in power? What can I do about any of it? In June of this year, I assisted a training offered by the International School of Temple Arts (ISTA), held in Turkey. The seven-day intensive is ISTA’s Level One, the Spiritual Sexual Shamanic Experience. If those words make you feel scared in their unknown-ness, please stay with me. I understand fear very well. I have a lifelong panic disorder that has organized my life into rigid categories of Safe and Not Safe. For as long as I can remember, my body was wired for anxiety and panic, triggered to take over when confronted with the unknown. Part of my journey of the last few years into less loneliness has also been a journey into new territories of safety.?

ISTA is a mystery school. What is a mystery school, you might ask? (I did). A mystery school is a closed society formed to teach, practice, and explore some facet of spirituality. Humans have always sought the answer to life’s mysteries. Ancient Egyptians, Greeks, Toltecs, Tibetans, Taoists, Kabbalists all had levels of study that required initiation. Mystery schools of old had rigorous requirements to enter the path of knowledge: think climbing mountains, periods of isolation, deep sacrifices and life-long commitments to the seeking of knowledge. To join ISTA, you simply have to sign up for a training, pay a fee for the room/board, and show up. I will explore much more deeply in this book what it means to be part of a mystery school focused on sexual shamanism, and what sexual shamanism is to begin with. For now, the thing to know is that people from all over the world are signing up for ISTA in droves. Since the school began 15 years ago, more than 10,000 people have gone through its trainings, each year the number of participants expanding. There is a growing hunger for Something More. (I also want to acknowledge that ISTA has come under scrutiny in the last few years for how they manage power and sexual dynamics between facilitators and participants. I will get into my experience with that later, but I just want to acknowledge that reality and also that ISTA’s leadership has gone through deep self-examination and reorganization).??

At the training I mentioned in Turkey, I had the very humbling privilege of helping facilitate healing experiences for about 50 participants who had come from countries like Iran, Ukraine, Russia, Syria, and Turkey itself because something inside them compelled toward transformation and healing. What I witnessed was men and women, many of them who had experienced violent personal and cultural trauma, choosing to step powerfully into the unknown?to reclaim sovereignty over their bodies and pleasure in service of love. I can think of few other things as needed right now.????

As I sat in that room, I cried for the years I was so disconnected from my own body that I didn’t actually know what I wanted, didn’t know how to ask for anything I needed, frozen in panic and in people pleasing, trying to keep everyone else around me happy. I cried for my mother, still trapped in her childhood trauma, and a line of ancestors– victims and perpetrators over and over.?

I cried for the person I was six years ago, swiping on Tinder in the hopes that someone would miraculously appear to take away all of my problems.

Someone did appear. That connection set off a chain reaction of epic proportions– a Rube Goldberg machine that began with fairly mundane, albeit devastating, heartbreak, and mousetrapped its way to me leading sex temples. It began in Santa Fe, New Mexico, working at a company called Meow Wolf, believing I was changing the world through art—and then learning what a transformational immersive experience really is. It began at the age of 36, when I imagined it was finally my turn to get what society has told me is the ultimate reward for being alive: a husband.