There's a reason Will is so into sex.

I stumbled on a program on Amazon Prime called Sex Magic. Of course, I was curious, so I tuned in. The gist of the show was that sex can lead one into an altered state of consciousness where orgasmic waves flow through all our energy centers and stimulate power and fulfillment beyond those we could achieve in ordinary life. Spiritual union between two (or more) people can expand a life experience into a cosmic one, connecting us to the energy field of pure potentiality where all our hopes and desires can be realized.

If there's any way to create such magic, it ought to involve sex. In The Well of Tears & Laughter (soon to be published), when Will mentions he has never exercised a day in his life, Marcie argues that all the work he does on his ranch is exercise. Will disagrees. "Those are chores," he says. Then she argues that sex is exercise. He's a former midnight cowboy, you know. He disagrees once again, more vehemently this time. "Sex is fun," he tells her with every shred of seriousness he can muster. From the moment Dixie seduced the sixteen-year-old virgin, sex has been fun to him. Not work. Not chores. Definitely not exercise.

When we consider sex as fun, we can get more out of it. And we're willing to put more into it. Like Will. He taught himself tantric sex while Dixie was off on the rodeo circuit, honing the skill to use various different meditative and behavioral devices and techniques to control himself so his partner could get what she wanted out of the experience as well. He learned how to express himself erotically, both through his body language and through the most romantic language around--French. He even learned how to sing in such a way as to make his partner swoon with delight.

He knows that sex is magic in and of itself. Period. As a result, he's the lucky recipient of sex magic as well, only because he prefers to focus entirely on his partner, on the act, on the union, on the energy, without expecting anything from it other than "fun". Without even trying, he connects with the magic in the energy around us that allows him to realize all his wishes. He gets friends and family, wealth, fame, and the girl of his dreams only because he considers sex "fun."

The program I started watching was filmed back around 2006 and it was about a guy who considers himself a "daka" or a spiritual sexual shaman. I watched through the half-way point before I lost interest. How do you suppose that happened? I mean, there was a lot of nudity and sex. It wasn't pornographic stuff, though. It was more about sexual healing and balancing (of the yin and yang). Good stuff. Stuff we all could stand a little more understanding and appreciation of.

Yet, I lost interest. The problem with the story about the magical spirituality of sex became obvious halfway through. "Dez" wasn't so spiritual or magical after all. He was kind of messed up. He admitted that he loves practicing polyamory (love with unlimited others), but he fell in love with "Maya" who couldn't handle his sexual wanderlust. She wanted an exclusive relationship with him and ended up leaving when he refused. Being a daka, what else was he going to tell her?

Then the film devolved into a series of personal reflections about sexual addiction. Poor Dez had to admit he was addicted to sex. Apparently, being a daka was a perfect way to validate and perpetuate his polyamory. I guess I should have stuck around to the end. After all, it was just 20 more minutes. In a typical romance novel, the guy finally gets the girl, right? There's always a happy ending. I guess I wanted Dez to get his cake and eat it too. Maybe Maya would have an epiphany that sexuality is nothing more than the exploration and merging of our innate yin/yang energies and our connectedness to all of life on a supra-erotic level. And that she'd come back and be his muse.

But, then again, I already wrote the book on that. And the answer to Dez and Maya's dilemma was they just needed to think of it as fun.