The exchanges seem to be self-proliferating in many ways. Example: we had read the sneak-preview of Marnia's new book, and initially thought there were 14 exchanges. The second time we opened the document, there were 17. The third time we opened it, there were 21! I'm not sure what kind of cosmic joke the universe has been playing on us - but its been humorous to watch. As I mentioned before, affectionate touch seems to beget affectionate touch. We've been less strict about following the exchanges as they are exactly prescribed because it has begun to feel almost effortless to be physical and generous. We've passed the exchange where we are allowed to have sex and have not taken that route yet (it's been a dangerous time in the cycle).

We've done pretty well with these exchanges so far as not going into the red zone and getting too fired up goes. Then again, we weren't coming at these exchanges with much history of recent hot sex. There were a few moments in the past month where we thought: wait a minute, if dopamine is about anticipation, these exchanges seem to be enhancing that state. We reveled in a few evenings of spontaneous and saucy playing that was definately hot but not overly revved up - it seems like keeping hot sex on the down low has made that impulse pop up elsewhere. We have indulged this without getting too naughty. We got dressed up and took pictures of one another and danced and laughed. GH was wearing a nice tailored vest with no shirt underneath and my grandpa's old black hat. I was wearing a red skirt, purple shirt, tall italian leather boots and a cat mask (he has always affectionately called me "cat"). I don't mention this to be provocative (only) but to point out that it was interesting this behavior surfaced because I haven't really gotten into dramatizations of this sort before. I have a friend who's a drama major and she always needs some playacting to get turned on. I've always thought that was weird. I guess I've just been pretty down-to earth in my lovemaking my whole life - why would I need to add toys, frills, games, or accesories to something that is already so satisfying?

I'd post one of the best pictures here from that evening except my boob's coming out of the shirt. But it's a funny photo and portrait of me at this point in my life. I have this hippy woman's book written in the 70's called "Getting Clear". It has a purple background with a big red vagina-like orchid on the front. The portrait of me GH took shows me sprawled over the chair in my skirt and mask, holding up this book, studiously reading about "getting clear", but definately still enjoying the realm that is basically vanity. So the portrait is fitting in that it is a sort of parody of the many competing forces at work in my sexual identity right now.

But back to the exchanges: you can probably tell from this post that my spirits are pretty high. I'm no longer feeling as harsh and critical of GH even while at the same time I am still phobic of commitment. The exchanges have allowed me the space to express my love and care for him without feeling trapped. This open space has allowed many profound and exquisitely delicate, alive, and intimate moments to blossom. I remember the night when the exchanges changed from a beneficial and pragmatic attempt to avoid the pitfalls of conventional sex, and into something more enjoyable in its own right, something downright ecstatic in its simplicity.

I was giving GH a long massage. He has a lot of shoulder and neck tension from a car accident, as well as a lot of grief stored in his lungs and heart from his brother's suicide when GH was in his early teens. When he walks, I can see this grief he carries, and it is one reason why I feel so responsible for him. So I was massaging him and got into a "groove" - that is, a point where I was not doing anything other than being present with something that was inside of him that was very subtle, unspeakable, and which words cannot address, but which gentle touch can. I was gently rocking his body and I could very clearly sense where the knot of grief was in him, almost like it was a tangible fascial adhesion, and I was just stroking and rocking him. He was as if in a trance, deeply relaxed, and strong in his vulnerability. Afterwards, he looked very expansive and enjoyable, bursting with life but also relaxed. If I were to compare his expression of bliss to that of other men after one of my masterful blowjobs, I would have to admit that he looked more ecstatic and relaxed than even that!

So I appreciate the playfulness the most (as many of you know, I can tend to get scarily serious at times). The playfulness definately had a saucy quality to it but in a very relaxed way; it was not any obvious attempt at luring in or amping up. I was also ovulating at this time so the more hot playfulness at this time makes sense.

Then the day after having ovulated, I felt a definite hangover. Probably my biological drive being pissed off that I didn't seize the opportunity to procreate (him and I will be parting in 2 days). Added to this the fact that despite this newfound intimacy, I have no urge to be with him as a partner. I seem to be totally satisfied in this state. There have been moments where an overdrive took hold of me very briefly and I wanted to have sex with him, but this is not the same thing as wanting to share my life with him. So, I am learning to take things more at face value, and what I have found is that human exchanges have inherent value. That is not to say that I have enjoyed him, loved him, laughed with him, AND THEREFORE BLAH BLAH BLAH. It is simply to say that I have enjoyed him, loved him, laughed with him, and in that moment we were one. I am extremely grateful for the lessons that have been imbued in every level of this exchange; grateful for his presence with it - were it not for him, I may never have tasted a morsel of this potential, this broad and expansive field.

We were at the beach yesterday and it was a day that warms the heart and gladdens every cell. We walked past all the people to the end of the beach and took our clothes off and let the sun greet every surface of our skin. He was astonishingly beautiful. I enjoyed watching his whole body, the sparkling, warm sand on his skin. I felt quite virginal actually, like we were in eden. He was rubbing warm sand on my belly. The gravity of the smooth sand beneath my body was a revelation in and of itself. He lay his head on my stomach and I smoothed his hair gently for an eternity as the ocean glimmered before us. Could there be any more profound intimacy than a simple stroking and a marvelling of the sea? With the sand sparkling on our bodies and our minds at ease? No, in that moment there could be no greater pleasure, no thought of greater pleasure, for the abundance in every single act was obvious, soothing, and inherent in everything around us.

I do not know if we will make love before we part ways again, what we will say, decide, worry about. I only know that my mind's need to fixate, decide, find security in things is a shoddy distraction from a state of being that is always available and present, but which it takes just the right angle, just the right willingness to perceive and experience. And I have experienced that this expansive space that is love is both personal and impersonal, because it is basically human, and also that there is much ecstasy, probably more ecstasy to be had, through reliance on simple generosity and simple appreciation, and that this ecstasy is not always the same as sex, and that this merging is not always the same as "finding your partner". In this world, ideas simply can't compete - the whole argument of orgasmic versus nonorgasmic, how hard we hold to our theories for our security - all of this falls away in this space, it simply dissolves into the greater expanse of sky.