Anchorhold

Welcome to a space for the spirituality of gay and bisexual men. We have within ourselves the resources for our healing, liberation, and growth. Connecting with each other, we encounter the grace to lay hold of a richer, juicier life. Losing ourselves in deep play, we rediscover the bigger, freer, more joyous selves we're capable of becoming. Here I share my interest in personal and communal ritual, making art that expresses my inner life, and an intentional practice of erotic spirituality.

Erotic Spiritual Practice

At left, photograph by Drew Graham.

One of the central tasks of our growth as queer men is to reunite our sexuality with our longing for the Source of our inner life. In the terms of Jewish spirituality, this work is both Repair of the Self and Repair of the World. Repair of the Self, because it heals our spirit; but also Repair of the World, because as fully integrated erotic-spiritual beings, we find our courage to be the change in the world that we want to see: to say no to the false, homophobic voices that deny our desire as a path toward the Sacred, and to fight for others in their own struggles toward wholeness in the face of oppression.

Throughout history and across cultures, mystics have used the language of erotic union to describe their longing for and communion with God. If we’re blessed, the best sexual experiences of our lives are also among the most intensely spiritual.

It makes no sense to leave to chance something so important to our growth. The practice of erotic spirituality deserves our conscious and focused attention.

Take inventory. Be honest with yourself about your wounds. Even if you’ve been out for years, you may feel that your sexual life and your connection to Spirit have a great gulf fixed between them. Explore that disconnect. Sit with it, push back against it.

Pray or meditate naked. Staying in touch with your body-with your erotic body–is an excellent way to turn up the volume on whatever keeps you from bringing flesh together with spirit–and to celebrate their connection.

Breathe! Do it deeply and intentionally. Think of it as pleasure. Imagine that the air you take in is itself an erotic force, penetrating you with each breath.

Relinquish the Goal. Orgasm and ejaculation are gorgeous. But learn to cultivate longing for its own sake. How does it impact your emotional and spiritual state if you choose to remain aroused without immediate release?

Practice Queer Midrash. Reimagine the sacred narratives of the tradition(s) that speak to you–a practice that Jewish biblical study calls midrash. The stories of Ruth and Naomi, of David and Jonathan, of Jesus and the Beloved Disciple, of the centurion and his “boy” in Luke 7:1-10 are ripe for retelling in celebration of same-sex desire. Generations of mystics have used the language of the Song of Songs to imagine themselves having sex with God. Lord Krishna splits himself into dozens of identical manifestations in order to give his cowherd-girl devotees the experience of unique bliss in moonlit dalliance with him. Photographers John Dugdale and Oscar Wolfman offer rich visual resources for a practice of queer midrash.

Find--and create--erotic community No matter where or with whom you find your erotic fulfilment, treat your partners like the beloved of God. Hope for the same in return..

Stop “chasing the dragon.” Peak experiences don’t happen all the time. If we try to repeat them at will, we can get caught up in a cycle that’s closer to addiction than openness to Spirit.

Create seasonal ritual. It can be enormously healing to affirm the integration of your sexuality with Nature’s larger rhythms. Create for yourself an erotic ritual in celebration of the Summer or Winter Solstice, of the Spring or Fall Equinox. The ever-amazing Annie Sprinkle's website has a thousand suggestions for sexy things you can do in and with nature. For that matter, so do I, but you have to ask. (Photograph above by Drew Graham.)

“Like a great starving beast my body is quivering fixed on the scent of light.”–Hafiz

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Sacred Intimacy: Companionship in Spiritual and Erotic Healing

Different practitioners use the term "Sacred Intimacy" to mean different things. It's important to remember that Sacred Intimacy work is different from therapy, and can't replace therapy. I'm not a therapist. I don't claim to offer services in any officially regulated modality. (Some Sacred Intimates are also practicing therapists, but they're clear with themselves and with clients which modality they're working in.) Put simply, I offer heart-centered companionship and deep listening.

For me, first and foremost, Sacred Intimacy means that what passes between us is holy. It's filled and enlivened with the presence of the Divine. I will do my best to be as present to you, as available to you for your good, as I'm capable of being. My intention is to be open to working in whatever modality we agree will be helpful to you. A session begins with a short conversation in which you explain to me where you're at, and what you hope to take away from our time together.

The emphasis is on healing, growth, and the expansion of your life. You may, for example, have issues of erotic shame that you want to work on, or grief, or body image, or intimacy. I may ask for clarifications and make suggestions. Together we agree on the starting point for the experiential work that will follow.

A session might unfold through breathwork, guided meditation, bodywork, intentionally focused erotic interaction, creative movement, the shared creation of ritual, artistic practice, psychodynamic role playing, or some combination.

I can't hope to be of service to you unless I feel competent in the role I assume, and unless I have the sense that what we do has potential to help you move forward with your declared intention. So our initial conversation may involve some give and take around what's possible and what's useful.

It's essential for your integrity and mine that we maintain full confidentiality and respect one another's boundaries. We enter into sacred space together at the beginning of a session. We leave sacred space at the end, and what's happened within the safe container of the session remains distinct from any interactions we might have before or after the session. What happens in the session stays in the session.

Every Sacred Intimate has his own understanding of the nature of his work. Just below you'll find a series of links to the web pages of a number of Sacred Intimates working in various cities and areas.

Finding Yourself, Claiming Yourself

I invite you to celebrate who you are, and who you want to become.

Think of the times your life as a gay or bisexual man has flowed without effort.

Think of the times you’ve struggled to lay hold of your life more fully.

Maybe those times feel like opposites. But they’re parts of a single cycle: sowing and harvest, labor and rest, preparation and enjoyment. We can’t work toward a fuller life unless we already feel some trust that life will rise up to meet us. We can’t sink deeper into our present joy and satisfaction in life without being reminded that it took a long journey to get here.

Please join me in considering a place where the two halves of this cycle come together: in the safe, empowering container of ritual space and ritual time.

What's an Anchorhold?

For centuries in Europe, a handful of men and women took a vow to devote themselves to the cultivation of their inner lives and to make themselves radically available to their communities for spiritual counsel. Committing themselves to remaining in a single dwelling for the rest of their lives, they were known as anchorites; the houses in which they lived were their anchorholds. Those who needed what the official channels of the religious establishment couldn’t provide came to the anchorhold for conversation and support.

Neither priests nor monks, the spiritual practice of anchorites and their interaction with those who came to them fell outside formal control of the Church. As a result, religious authorities often viewed them with suspicion. One of the best known of these dropouts from ordinary social and religious norms was Julian of Norwich, a woman who had a near-death experience in 1373 and spent the rest of her life thinking about what it meant, for herself and for the world at large. The book she wrote about her revelation, the first in English that we know for sure was written in by a woman, is an astonishingly daring and original rethinking of Christian theology: a vision of a God in whom there is no wrath, who is both Father and Mother of Creation, and who will somehow, by a miracle beyond our ability to grasp, eventually effect the salvation of every living being.

Men and women of spirit who fell between the cracks, anchorites practiced what in its own way was a profoundly queer inner life, following the instincts of their own experience, flying under the radar of the powers that claimed to control access to the Divine.