These Chains Are All Your Own

Good morning, Macketeers… and Spambots as well, I suppose.

Today is Day Two of the Big Move. Well, not mine. Actually, my agent and I are close friends with three of the sweetest adults we know, one of whom, has been a good friend of ours for years, and two being her housemates, a married couple who have adopted our friend into their lives as a polyamorous partner. The couple also have an adorable daughter, who has a mad crush on my agent, so those two tend to hang out together and play a lot when we’re not helping with dry wall and cleaning and moving and such. All three of our friends treat the little girl as their daughter. And the thing about this arrangement is, it’s not flawless, but it works.

The message I take from that is, there are three kinds of families, rather than the two we tend to think of as the only two: the family we’re born into, the family we marry into, and the family we surround ourselves with when we finally get to know who OUR people actually are. It sometimes requires that we change the rules that society holds us to, but with a bit of creativity and a willingness to accept the laws as they stand, we can still have the family we need, if we’re brave and strong and recognize the people who belong in our lives and hearts.

Not all of us are meant to have the kinds of relationship that our friends do. If you think about the complications and hassles and compromises you generally make to be in one relationship, try multiplying that by the power of three. It gets exponentially more complicated, and yet, if you do it right and everyone is open with each other about their wants and needs, it can also be exponentially more rewarding. Or so I’m lead to understand. Plus, hey, one more person to handle the household burden! W00T!

Our friends also have a group of friends, whom we are acquainted with, who also have a similar arrangement with a second female friend who has become a part of their household and their relationship. It’s not widespread yet, but it’s becoming more common than you might think. And it’s not about swinging, and it’s not about having your cake and eating it too. It’s about family. Your family. The one your heart tells you you’re supposed to be in. Your tribe. Your people. It’s about what you need to feel like the human being you actually are, rather than the one people expect you to be.

Ultimately, there are trade-offs, and of course, there are the questions and flat out recriminations of those who refuse to accept such arrangements as being proper or decent. but really, life is too short to waste time fretting about the problems of small-minded people. Follow your bliss where it takes you, and as long as you’re not hurting anyone, live the life you need to. Make your own rules. Make your own family. and don’t sweat the numbers.

I love my friends, and as they take up residence in their new home together, I pray they have many years of love and happiness together, come what may.

The following words are a snippet from a song by Marillion, about warring with your fellow man over borders, geographical or ideological, but they could apply to a lot of things, and in this case, I choose to invoke the idea that we need to let go of our fear of love, and learn to accept when love takes shapes we don’t immediately understand, be they between women, men, genders in between or outside of the two, or between multiple consenting partners. Love is infinitely bigger than that. We should be, too.

Or you could love
You could love

Lie down in the flowers
In the blue of the air
Open your eyes
Why use up your life for anything else?
No need to fight for what everyone has
What do you need?
It’s already there
It’s already there

You could love

So he carried the stars in his pocket
Drank the sunrise till he was drunk
He embraced the angels
They swam like little minnows in his blood
Ghosts in his eyes
Out walking beside him
Laughing like children in his mind
They chanted his mantra together

You could love

They were happy. They were happy.

~Marillion, A Few Words for the Dead

Eddie.

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