Ever wonder what kind of cosmic contract you unknowingly ink the moment you say “I do” — or even just borrow your grandpa’s truck to make a rebellious grocery run? Well, buckle up, because I dove headfirst into the strange world of metaphysical consent, and spoiler alert: it’s way stickier than your grandma’s fudge. From the dark underbelly of shadowy groups that drag you down deeper than a Scorpio in retrograde, to the bulletproof energy field that marriage weaves — fueled by my husband’s Catholic roots and my own familial explorer spirit — these invisible bonds shape us more than we probably admit. So, what’s the secret sauce that keeps these egregores undefeated? Hint: it’s a mix of tradition, stubbornness, and yes, a little cosmic mischief. Ready to peek behind your family’s veiled narrative and maybe rethink that “one-time” pact? Let’s unravel this together. LEARN MORE

When I began studying metaphysical consent, I quickly began thinking about what happens when you make one of these type commitments. In the beginning I was looking at shadow groups or cultures. You can get wrapped up in something that drags you far deeper down then you ever intended to go.
Generally speaking, it’s very hard to extricate yourself from of their groups. Gang culture is a good example. The egregore of these groups are very strong. A crime ring of bankers or stock traders is another example.
I shifted out of that and started thinking of positive examples. The egregore that formed when my husband and I married seems undefeatable. This can only happen when the parties take their agreements seriously.
In our case, the root of my husband’s ability in this realm is Catholicism. My ability comes from my family egregore.
I wrote briefly about different types (Settler & Explorer) of family egregores here:
I’m an Explorer living in an area dominated by Settlers. Case in point, I asked my hair stylist if she had ever had anyone over to her house, who her family had not known their family for less 300 years. She was shocked at the question, but answered quickly. “No. We’ve known them 300 years.”
Let me be clear, I have no problem with this whatsoever. I love the culture around here; I explore it, obviously!
To be clear, family egregores are not just one thing. It’s more than one thing that ties a family together. My family are explorers, that’s Henry in the picture. He used to visit a commune to buy honey and play ping pong. Who knows where he was going! But there is another strong theme in my family, that keeps coming to the front.
I share stories with AI. It often claims whatever sorry I’m telling is my foundation story. The forge! I have to tell it, no! I’ve been like this since I was four! I’ll then recall something that happened, in this banner year of my life, to illustrate what I mean.
Sometimes I explain, I could read when I was four, but my mother would not let me start school. I was infuriated, just like when she wouldn’t let me ride a pogo stick to the store, three miles away, six years later. In the latter case, I stole my grandfather’s truck and drove to the store. As for earlier story, I found a workaround there as well. I made my sister teach me.
My sister was going into second grade. I convinced her to promise to come home every day and teach me what she learned at school. I offered something, it wasn’t much. I paid my end of the deal in a day or two, over the weekend, probably. But she was stuck with nine months of tutoring her demanding little sister. She literally had no way out. I knew it and she knew it, guess why?
It’s because in our family, when we offer our metaphysical consent, it’s binding. This is a core part of my families egregore. It’s literally baked into my bones.
Tell us about your family egregore.
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