At the beginning of May, I had the opportunity to travel south to attend, a Wheel of Consent Retreat for Erotic Touch Providers. I was invited to join the facilitation team as an assistant, supporting the retreat alongside Corinne, Katie, and humbly sustained, with guest teachings from Dr. Betty Martin, the developer, our beloved grandmother of the Wheel of Consent.

As someone whose work sits at the intersection of embodiment, intimacy, and conscious exploration, it felt like a meaningful invitation to receive.

The retreat took place at Aldermarsh on Whidbey Island, Washington. The journey there felt like its own threshold crossing. We travelled by ferry from Vancouver Island, crossed the border through Peace Arch, and drove through forests and farmland before arriving at a place that immediately invited exhale. The property was home to a luscious blooming garden and all the creatures that kept a sweet balance. There was an outdoor hot tub beneath the open sky, a wood-fired sauna, winding paths through the land, and a workshop space spacious enough to hold our collective explorations. Arriving a day early allowed time to settle, wander, and become acquainted with the rhythms of the place before the retreat officially began.

Later that evening, after formal facilitation responsibilities had ended, intimacy continued to emerge. In a shared play space occupied by several people engaged in their own experiences, I entered into an encounter that was both tender and explicit. We kissed. We shared juicy oral induced pleasure. Our bodies responded with enthusiasm and delight. Orgasm unfolded alongside the sounds of others immersed in their own pleasure nearby. The atmosphere was charged without being performative. What struck me most was not simply the erotic intensity but the sense of permission that permeated the room. Desire was not hidden. Pleasure was neither apologetic nor demanded. Each person remained responsible for their own choices while participating in a shared field of aliveness. Afterwards, we slipped into the hot tub beneath the night sky and let the warmth soften the edges of everything we had experienced.

The retreat shifted again during an evening devoted to ritual. Participants were invited to create experiences rooted in authentic desire, which was built on the trust from the prior days.

Wild Desires: Eco-erotic Ritual

One ritual involved leading someone to realize her longing to become one with a tree. We chose a large tree near the edge of the property with a thick branch extending as a perfect cradle for holding us. Drawing upon previous rock-climbing instincts, I navigated upward carrying blankets and by bag of rope. I created a comfy nest with a stack of blankets among the branches before carefully supporting her into position. I tied a chest harness and secured her to the tree, from several anchor points moving slowly and checking in repeatedly.

The experience was wildly profound. We breathed and I witnessed a powerful quivering release in the surrender.

Responsibility sharpened my awareness. I trusted my own capacity in the tree while recognizing the vulnerability of holding another person’s safety alongside my own. The ritual invited me to examine the edges and consent. Fear became mindfulness and grounded caution with my limits. I felt alive and whole.

At one point, terrible country karaoke drifted over from a neighbouring property. The juxtaposition was absurd and perfect. Sacred ritual unfolded alongside off-key singing from beyond the trees. Life rarely offers pristine spiritual moments untouched by the obscurity. There was something deeply human about laughing while remaining devoted to the task at hand.

We received the gift of photographic memory captured by my beloved who supported the realization of this ritual. We were held by community, the land and our new grandmother tree friend.

Another ritual placed me in the role of witness. A participant entered an experience involving impact and surrender while others held active roles within the scene. I stood nearby, positioned between them and the wall, offering my presence as an anchor. I watched emotion surface through sensation. Tears emerged. Breathing changed. The room softened around the experience without trying to shape it into something it was not.

Witnessing taught me as much as participating. There was nothing to fix. No interpretation to impose. The practice required staying present long enough for another person’s truth to unfold in its own timing. Afterwards, they spoke of reclaiming parts of themselves they thought had been lost. I felt unexpectedly moved by the privilege of being there to witness that process. Erotic spaces are not inherently therapeutic, yet when approached with intention, consent, and integrity, they can become places where profound transformation occurs.

Eventually several hands grasped a hold of me

I was captured and carried back toward the ritual space as laughter erupted from everyone involved. The play that followed met every part of my request. I was held down, restrained, overwhelmed, and brought into waves of pleasure intense enough to leave me crying and laughing at the same time. Running commentary from those nearby transformed moments of ferocity into comedy. Jokes were made about “using up the Care Bear” and getting every last ounce of juice from me. The absurdity amplified rather than diminished the intimacy.

I had wanted to be emptied, and, I was.

Exhaustion settled into my muscles like relief.

The evening continued to unfold through dancing, cuddling, playful workshops, and shared delight. Music filled the room. Bodies moved. Conversations drifted between silliness and vulnerability. The sacred and ridiculous remained inseparable.

Reflecting on the retreat, I keep returning to the ways embodied experience teaches differently than theory ever can. I left understanding more deeply that consent is not simply a mechanism for preventing harm. It is a practice of becoming intimate with desire. It asks us to discern what we truly want, communicate honestly, remain accountable for our choices, and honour the humanity of those we encounter.

I learned that care deepens eroticism rather than diminishing it. I learned that responsibility creates the conditions for freedom. I learned that witnessing another person without trying to change them can be one of the greatest gifts we offer. I learned that playfulness belongs beside reverence and that laughter often accompanies the most transformative experiences.

Most importantly, I left trusting myself more fully and deeply feeling that permission to play is a gift.

I trust my capacity to navigate complexity. I trust my ability to move between caregiving and wildness, leadership and surrender, tenderness and intensity. I trust my body to tell the truth when I slow down enough to listen.

The Wheel of Consent is often described as a framework for understanding touch. My experience reminded me that it is also a framework for understanding relationship: relationship to desire, relationship to power, relationship to responsibility, and relationship to aliveness itself.

I arrived eager to contribute my labour and support the community around me. I left remembering that embodiment is about presence. It is about consenting, again and again, to the fullness of who we already are: devotional and mischievous, grounded and untamed, capable of care while remaining gloriously, unapologetically alive.