Chapter 3: Women as the Network, Men as the Conduits
A sneak peek from Consort 2, by Nicole Daedone
There is a system we were born into that is, in many ways, upside down. We inherited models of power that favor dominance over alignment, extraction over reciprocity, control over flow. In this model, men are taught to be the initiators, the origin points of movement. Women, meanwhile, are seen as the receivers—passive vessels through which action travels. But what if this, too, is a distortion? What if we reversed the equation—not to simply flip the power dynamic, but to reveal the deeper order that was there all along?
Women are nodes in the network. Men are the conduits. Eros is the current.
When women forget they are the network, something essential goes dormant. In the absence of this remembering, they are drawn into competition, hoarding, the pursuit of what was never meant to be owned. They seek what is already theirs by nature, and in the grasping, sever themselves from the very source of their power. But when a woman reclaims her place in the network, she returns to her native function: to generate, emanate, circulate. She becomes the center not by reaching but radiating. From her flows the current of Eros, and in that flow, all things find their rightful place.
This network is not visible in the way that power usually is. It does not reside in titles or possession but moves through feeling, through subtle attunement, through the body’s unspoken knowing. The woman does not need to demand attention or security as she is the source. The world naturally orients around her—not out of submission, but in recognition of the central frequency she emits when she is rooted in arousal, when she is in connection with the vital current of life itself.
And what of the man?
He, too, has a sacred function. Not as the center, but as the one who carries what arises from it. His gift is movement—not originating force, but faithful transmission. He does not seize energy; he follows it. He does not direct the current; he listens to it. The man as conduit becomes a precise, supple instrument through which the erotic charge can flow into form. He moves without grasping. He acts without claiming. His role is not to shape, but to serve.
In the context of consortship, this takes on a deeper commitment. The man becomes a vessel refined through his willingness to be shaped. He does not arrive complete but becomes through the practice of surrender not to the woman as personality, but to the greater intelligence moving through her. She pours into him not her preferences, but the unmediated current of an erotic force older than time. To hold this, he must vow. Not a ceremonial vow, but a lived one remade again and again in the presence of real contact.
This vow requires a certain kind of attention: an attentiveness that does not wait for clarity but acts from it. She will sense everything: his hesitations, his distortions, his evasions. She is not listening for perfection, but for congruence. Can he tell the truth as quickly as he feels it? Can he remain in response to the living moment, even as he stays anchored to the larger arc of her vision? This is the posture of the consort man steadfast in orientation, fluid in execution.
At times, he will glimpse her in her true form, not as woman, but as gateway. There will be a moment where all masks fall away and he sees her as sovereign, radiant, beyond definition. Something in him will awaken, some ancient memory of what it is to serve not a person, but a principle. Not an identity, but a current. Through her, he enters a reality more real than his own. In that moment, his task is clear: to carry what she reveals with absolute fidelity.
But this path is not romantic in the conventional sense. It is not designed to reward his ego or offer him safety. It is a forge. He will be handed power and asked to hold it without grasping. He will be shaped by a fire that does not relent. And if he uses what is given for personal gain, if he forgets what he serves, the circuit breaks. Not out of punishment, but because the system cannot function on distortion.
To be a consort is to be reformed. Not in the image of the ideal man, but into the exact man required by this moment of awakening. Every misstep is a message. Every response is a chance to refine. He learns not from instruction, but from intimacy—from the texture of her breath, from the silence after her truth, from the ripple his choices send through the field she holds. Through her, he encounters the edge of himself. And from that edge, he begins to live.
Finally, how he relates to her is how she relates to her calling. The structure she holds determines how the current moves. If she channels her erotic vastness into grasping for personal love, he will do the same. If she lets it flow outward toward the nourishment of the world, he will follow. The pattern always reveals itself and the current never lies.
