Among those who shared comments with me about body fluids and spirituality since my last column, they spoke more of issues that are central to daily life than about sacred sex practices or rituals. Sharing body fluids can mean sharing disease or pregnancy as well, neither of which is trivial. And both can have consequences that last the rest of one's life.
Was the lack of spiritual connection with his sex partners too big a price to pay to avoid viruses?
A pregnancy can be a few days' process (for termination) or a decades' long commitment to another human being and its other parent. Any STD (sexually transmitted disease) requires at least a doctor's visit, a remedy, and communication with all one's recent sex partners. Some—like HPV (human papillomavirus), herpes, and HIV (human immunodeficiency virus)—last for a lifetime, with varying degrees of consequences. Decades down the road from the identification and naming of HIV (which is generally accepted to cause AIDS), it's no longer considered an automatic death sentence to test positive for HIV. But seroconversion (the development of HIV antibodies which occurs when a person has contracted the virus) is still the beginning of a life of prescription drugs, medical visits, and blood tests to help the patient stay healthy.
These risks are what make the act of sharing fluids spiritual. For instance, within polyamorous communities and relationships, sexual activity is not limited to one's spouse or primary partnership. The use of barriers to body fluids during sex is typical among polyamorous community members. Agreeing to mingle body fluids with only one person (or with only certain persons) is an alternate statement of fidelity.
This agreement, called fluid bonding, is often initiated with a ceremony not unlike a marriage ceremony. "There is a spirituality in being fluid bonded... It is a symbol of commitment to a relationship that is done with the receiving of sperm into one's body - with no barrier," wrote one woman.
Another person I heard from is a Sacred Intimate (SI is one of the names for today's Sacred Prostitutes) who is HIV positive. "Michael" has been HIV+ for more than five years. He did not become infected through ignorance or accident. Neither did he get HIV intentionally.
Michael described a desire for spiritual connection in his personal life that required being open physically as well as spiritually. "Penetration, both penetrating and being penetrated, is sacred to me. It's about connection, and that's a spiritual value. I recognized that the depth of connection I wanted, a level of spiritual trust, was connection that required skin-to-skin contact."
How safe did he want to feel? The spiritual connection was precious—and absent in "safer sex." Was the lack of spiritual connection with his sex partners too big a price to pay to avoid viruses?
Michael was not the only one I heard from who questioned what boundaries were created by condom use. A woman, echoing Michael's perspective of the spiritual connection of sexual fluids, wrote: "It's the very stuff that brings spirit into being in matter, the physical. If you are blocking the contact with that, are you not blocking the spiritual connection in a most literal way? Isn't 'rubber' what they use for electrical insulation?"
Michael continues, "There's a continuum from disconnection to connection. I had experiences on it, fucking and getting fucked. I usually bottomed because when I put on a condom, I couldn't stay hard without the touch of another's skin against mine. And I hadn't found anyone to fluid bond with.
"So to reconcile these issues and choose my place on this continuum, I decided I had three clear options along it. From A-Z, A was to keep using condoms without the connection. Around J was no sex at all, no connection, but also no barriers. And Z was fucking and getting fucked without condoms; getting my spirit need for connection met while opening to the health risks: HIV, STDs, all of it.
"I spent two weeks on this, two weeks of self-questioning and tears. That was after I had already tried everything else I could think of: small condoms that covered only the head and the glans, female condoms, other things. I didn't want to seroconvert."
Eventually he chose Z. "It was a question of strong conflicting values. I wanted physical health. And I wanted to have that spiritual connection. The choice came down to my spiritual health versus my physical health. Skin-to-skin sex is one of my purest experiences of being alive. I'm so hungry for that feeling of aliveness.
“So I made a spiritual decision based on placing that value ahead of others. My conscious spiritual value was about not prioritizing avoiding death or physical illness. What does it mean to live a spirit-led life if one doesn't prioritize spiritual values over purely physical ones?
"Many have seroconverted by accident, and they haven't gone through the process I did. Some are still angry; they haven't forgiven themselves or whomever they got it from. For me it was a big deal, but not nearly as big as if I had not made my choice two years before then. I stayed focused on spiritual values and choices. I knew I was on my path the whole time. I was aware the day I found out [I had seroconverted] that there were gifts in that for my healing work with others. It propelled me toward other goals and other values.
"I realize that this is MY value decision, and I am not advocating this for others."
There's a big world out there of men choosing different directions and desires: barebackers, bug chasers, cum dumpsters, those who want to get "knocked up." And there is specific language from some that might have spiritual intent: "Give me your DNA" and "Put your seed in me." Is “DNA” the modern (scientific?) way to refer to one's unique essence? They could be defining their “seed” as an energetic concept like the ancient spiritual teachers.
But how many have gone through the mental, emotional, and spiritual rigor of examining their deep values and reconciling them with the risks they are taking? It's a good exercise for all of us, not just those who are considering sharing body fluids.

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Comments
Spiritual Connections in Human Bonding
Thanks for this article, Margaret, and gratitude goes to Michael as well. I understand and appreciate when Michael says that the condom is a erotic reducer, that feeling the flesh of another human being as well as his or her juices is a phenomenal gift, and that his spiritual values and beliefs were a priority rather than his physical health. I honor you, Michael, in your beliefs.
Within my own belief system, I hold that spiritual connections are often alligned with my physical contacts, that in using my sexual energy is a path to communing with the divine within myself as well as within the other(s), that my physical health is foundational for my spiritual journey. Without my physicality there is no manifestation of my spiritual path or spiritual embodiment.
I don't want to get philosophical about this because that will take me too much into my big head of analyzing and intellectualizing that doesn't necessarily lead me to being authentic, let alone erotic and sensual. I have taken risks with other men based on the emotional connection I have felt with them. Perhaps I was setting myself up for seroconverting, but I did not do it lightly or in the heat of passionate lust. So, the question I ask myself is: If I committed myself to a lover, would I be willing to receive his HIV positive status within my own body? I would not. Why not? Because I feel that I could easily become less present to him.
It gets even more complicated for me. A HIV virus can mutate. What if my HIV virus mutated and his didn't? What if by having sex with me, he could face a death sentence? or vice versa. Selfishly, I would prefer to be the 'caretaker' of my partner if he were to become ill, not the other way around.
Until a cure or preventive medicine is discovered to address HIV, I will continue to practice as safe sex as I can. My spiritual beliefs support this decision and actually encourages it.
Hazel Moss, Holy Ghost People, and Queering Christ
Scott O'Hara wrote eloquently in POZ in twelve years ago: "Feeling a man inside me, condomless, that's when the sex becomes spiritual in its intensity. Communion in the truest sense. Integral to that closeness is the knowledge that he intends to leave a piece of himself inside me; his cum, like the sex itself, has a psychological value, beyond anything physical. Recognizing that power is one of the ways I defy this virus. I believe in exchanging bodily fluids, not wedding rings."
I personally told Scott that I knew hundreds of men who have learned new ways of profound physical intimacy with their lovers and with strangers without condoms and without penetration. He told me he had tried condoms for years. I told him that I didn't think condoms was exploring new realms of sexual intimacy.
A couple of weeks ago, I saw Peter Adair's astonishing movie Holy Ghost People. The documentary takes place in a West Virginia holiness church. Some in the congregation played with rattlesnakes and one man was bitten. They also drank strychnine.
One of my favorite characters in southern gothic novels is Flannery O'Conner's Hazel Moss who is a preacher in the Church of Christ Without Christ. He blinds himself with lime in order to find more meaning in his life.
Queer theologian Robert Goss argues eloquently for Michael's brand of condom-free intimacy in chapter four of his book Queering Christ.
Margaret, you always surprise me.
Penetrating Trust
Oh my god,
Where to begin on this issue.
I am a 53-year-old pagan man. I have lived with HIV for 25 years and with AIDS for 15 years. In that time I lost two life partners and over 3 scores of lovers, dear friends and acquaintances. My personal sexuality spans all the gamuts of gender, orientation, and behavior. I am part of a tribe of kinky queer perverts who practice spiritual transformation through extreme sensation, sex magic, and sado-masochistic play. We consider ourselves a mystery school where sexuality and spirituality are bound together.
Living with the knowledge that my precious body fluids are poisonous to my lovers is a terrible mindfuck. My highest spiritual value is that I will not infect other people with this hideous disease. The easiest way (at first) was to serosort – only play with other pos people. This of course has its own limitations and risks. Some of my HIV-negative lovers are very comfortable with safer sex boundaries, but others are afraid to play with me intimately. However, with all of them, there is tremendous flesh-to-flesh contact: hugging, wrestling, kissing, intertwined as lovers. A little bit of rubber on a small bit of flesh does not preclude or inhibit the intense spiritual exchange. I hate condoms; they just worsen the erectile difficulties caused by my HIV meds. I strongly desire to receive and give the gift of body fluids – but the life and health of my lovers (and myself!) is far more important. I’ve tried to envision myself as a powerful serpent with a deadly venom: I can raise awesome kundalini, yet I must be very careful about my poison. For me love and passion are inseparable; I always fall in love with my partner, even if only for the duration of our sexual encounter. But love supercedes passion – and love demands that I not put my partners at risk. I cannot take my pleasure at anyone else’s expense.
Awesome, Ganymede. And, I
Awesome, Ganymede. And, I bet you are one wonderfully erotic lover to be with. I resonate with your "tribe" but have not found one of my own that I can join here in Oakland, CA. Very interested in exploring power exchange, forms of queer kink, sex magick, communing with partner(s) in sacred and transformative ways. I would like to speak with you further about this whole other dimension of our lives. Would you kindly email me at kgs1947@yahoo.com. Thanks.
Ken