Words

I love words.  I love knowing their intricacies and their subtleties and their deep meanings.  I love knowing them and choosing them and stringing them together to make something true and beautiful and raw and real. I love the magick they hold and the power they wield.

Violence; physical force, extreme or uncontrollable force especially of nature, fervor, intensity of feeling or expression, aggression, ferocity, strength, force, passion, might, fierceness, power.

Predator; a carnivorous animal that hunts, kills, and eats other animals in order to survive, any organism that behaves in a similar manner, extremely aggressive, determined, persistent, wild, untamable.

Perversion; the changing of something good, true, or correct into something bad or wrong, or a situation in which the change has occurred, a sexual practice considered unusual or unacceptable, falsification, distortion.

The words that make us uncomfortable are powerful.  Many have meanings that evoke very negative feelings, and many of those words have other meanings. I object to the subjugation of words to only their basest meanings, and I choose to reclaim them and to use them because by definition they are the most accurate to express my thoughts.

Slut; an insult for a woman whose sexual behavior is considered immoral.

 

Because I do not consider sexuality to be immoral the word itself is meaningless to me, it holds no power.  It invokes no emotional response.  That is not to say that there are no words that are emotionally powerful to me.  The word beautiful is incredibly powerful and being called a “good girl” can reduce me to shreds.

Discovering which words have power for me, which words make me angry or uncomfortable, which words I find important to reclaim, and which words have no meaning, no power at all, is an exploration into my identity and my deeper self.  

Why?

Last night I was lying in bed and I couldn’t stop thinking about why?  Why do I feel so hateful towards nice people? Why does it make me so angry when someone says “I love you.” or “You are beautiful.”?    Why do I react with such rage when people are weak, or needy, or identify as victims?  Why do I immediately assume that they are liars? That they cannot be trusted, that they are trying to manipulate, that they want something?

When someone I do not know well says “I love you.” my mind screams “You don’t even know me!”  When someone seems too nice, too gentle, I wonder what they are hiding.  When someone seems too needy, I wonder what their ulterior motives are, how they are trying to manipulate me, or someone else.

I prefer people who push me, because I can push back, or not, as I choose. 

When someone pretends to be nothing but nice, and I do not want to comply by giving them what they want, they always seem to want to place blame and guilt.  “I am so nice.  You should want to give me what I am asking for.” “What is wrong with you that you don’t want to be kind and loving towards someone as nice, weak, needy, hurt, gentle, victimized as me?”

I get to decide how I feel and how I want to express those feelings.  Just because you are a “nice” person does not give you the right to decide how I should treat you. (Obviously every human and non-human deserves to be treated with respect but, I don’t have to like you or give you any part of myself.) I have the right to listen to my own inner voice.

My reactions to those people may be a little extreme but they are also perfectly valid, and I have finally figured out the reason why.   

The person who seduced me for the first time (when I was nine years old) did so by telling me that they loved me, that they needed me, that I was beautiful.  They did so by showing me weakness and gentleness.  And they did so by making me feel guilty for not wanting to love them the way they were asking me to.  They did not push me, they pulled at me. 

I still feel some rage at myself for being so vulnerable to those tactics and so easily manipulated.  And at people who pull at me in that same way. 

I may not have figured out how not to feel this way but, awareness and understanding of these reactions is certainly a good place to begin.

sometimes I feel mean

Sometimes I feel mean.  Sometimes I feel hateful.  Sometimes, when my heart hurts, I feel angry and I want to lash out.  I want to say things that I know will hurt someone. I want to hit someone with more than my fists. I want to destroy someone else, psychologically, emotionally, physically. 

Sometimes I feel this way when I am around people whose behavior or words make me angry, even though they have done nothing to hurt me.  I don’t really understand why, and I do not allow my words or actions to express these feelings towards these people.

I do not like feeling mean.  I do not indulge this feeling.  My ethics and my will refuse to allow this feeling to manifest as behavior.  But I feel it none the less.

It bothers me that I feel this way sometimes.  It bothers me even more that I do not always understand why.  I believe that intent matters as much as feelings.  I believe that my will and my choices protect me and others from these feelings.  

But I wish I could understand where they come from and maybe even find a way to purge them from my heart, my mind, and my soul.

some thoughts on Autonomy

I have conflicting feelings about relationships.  I want very much to fall in love some day.  I believe in love and in sharing your heart with others. I did mention that I am a romantic, didn’t I?  I like having someone to whom to say “Good Morning!” and “Good Night” and “How was your day?”  I like sharing meals sometimes and sharing a bed sometimes.  I enjoy physical and emotional intimacy and intellectual conversation, the sharing of ideas, hopes, dreams, energy, magick and the experiences of this life. I believe that we as a species are not meant to be completely solitary creatures.

But having a place of my own, having time to myself, having the quiet and solitude that I need to think, to dream, to work magick and to write, is necessary for me and I have worked very hard to attain my independence.  I do not want to sacrifice my time alone or to negotiate with someone else to have time and privacy.  I do not want to check with someone else before going to the lake at night to sit beneath the moon or to make plans to sit and talk with someone whom I love who might need my support.

I want a lover in my life…maybe more than one, maybe not.  I believe that relationships should be based on love, respect and a commitment to show up when your beloveds need you. But I do not believe that it is necessary to live with another, to tailor your lives to revolve around each other to the exclusion of your own autonomy.

The image I have of the love I desire is not the one most people assume when they think of a relationship.  But it is the one that fills me with warmth and hope.  It is the thing I long for, still.  I hope someday to be granted the gift of loving another without reservation, without censorship, without restraint and without sacrificing my autonomy.

on Predators

In my last post I made a comment about how we as a society have done so much to control or even “eliminate” the predator from the human psyche.  That statement felt wrong and has been bothering me all day.  I had thought to correct it through editing but, decided to let the statement remain in its imperfection and expand my thoughts on the subject of predatory nature through a new post.

I have a personal appreciation for the predatory species.  I am drawn to them and feel an affinity for them as well as a great deal of respect and admiration.  My living companion is feline.  One of my totems is a bird of prey.  And I learn from the canine species every time I am privileged to be in proximity to them. 

Most human beings admire predators in the wild, or even live with the “domesticated “siblings of those wild animals.  But many refuse to acknowledge the nature of predators and insist upon projecting upon them gentler and more civilized  qualities as if there was something unacceptable about the predatory instincts of the wild animal.  This human tendency annoys me greatly.

 I believe that we as a species are also predatory by nature.  There are those who have completely rejected the instincts of the predator.  To be honest, I find those particular humans difficult to relate to and to be around.  They have a tendency to bring out the nastier aspects of my personality.  And that is where we come to the statement I had previously made.  We all try to civilize the predatory instincts that we possess.  We do not want to behave as wild animals (although I would still make the argument that in some ways that might actually be an improvement over some of our “civilized” behaviors). 

We invent rules to make us feel less than wild animals.  There are aspects to our predatory nature that need to be channeled in more socially appropriate behaviors.  I will not argue for anarchy or against the rule of law but, I do not think it serves us so well to attempt to ignore or eliminate those aspects of our humanity that give us power and strength.  Our will is a powerful part of our selves.  Instinct is necessary for survival even in the modern world.  The wild inside of us is a great source of vitality and life-force. 

I have a wild nature and I have strong instincts.  I find myself driven to explore those parts of myself.  I desire to engage with the predatory nature of others because my instincts tell me that through such interaction I may come to know my own predatory nature.  But I also feel the need to explore the polarity of the prey.  I need to experience both sides of the relationship. 

Hunger, lust and the drive to express what it is to be alive, these are strong instincts and I will not try to tame them.

the false self

There is a small dark thing that pretends to be a part of me that I refuse to allow license.  That is because it is a false face that turns my nature upside down to hide my true desires.  It is a distortion, and a mask.  It is a sadistic thing that revels in inflicting damage.  Not simple physical pain but, physical, mental, emotional, and psychological damage.  It delights in utter destruction on every level including the destruction of myself.  It is not a true part of me but one that has, in my past, asserted its illegitimate authority to hide the true nature of my desires.  In truth, it is a liar and I believe, the ill-formed and in-human, still-born product of fear. 

I am not judging those who have a sadistic or dominant or predatory nature.  From what I have read and learned in my intellectual studies of the nature of those who identify as Sadist, the infliction of mental, emotional and psychological pain or, damage of any kind, is an abhorrent perversion to them.  Just as true non-consent (rape) is considered an evil thing not to be tolerated.  In much of the writings I have found, even the idea of not having a “safe-word” is completely unacceptable as it is considered too dangerous to all parties.  Burning someone or actually cutting someone and causing them to bleed is also considered to be beyond the “safe, sane and consensual” standard of practice.  We have done much as a society to control or even “eliminate” the predator within the human psyche.

I have been exploring these ideas intellectually.  I have been reading and learning about other people’s feelings about them and about the rules that are insisted upon in the community that explores these experiences.  I have even done some physical and purely scientific (solitary) exploration of certain factors.  Solitary exploration has been less helpful that actual discussion and discussion has taken quite a bit of work. It took some struggle to even speak about these things with people I trust.  I am not accustomed to having to fight so hard to articulate my thoughts on any subject and this in itself has been a learning experience. 

I have, in the past, indulged in chemically induced oblivion, and chemically induced arousal.  I have, in the past, cut myself and burned myself to feel physical sensation and to explore my reactions to it.  I have enjoyed receiving tattoos and my reactions to the stimulus of the pain involved in that experience.  I have also experienced disassociation and “out of body” experiences during sexual situations where I panicked but was not capable of “escaping”.

If I am to truly discover anything about myself; it will require that I actually engage with someone who is not afraid to push me and not back down, someone who has made friends with their “inner predator “as it were.

Many would judge the desires that I hope to explore as perversions but, true desire is not perversion, it is the false self that is truly perverse.

I desire to experience pain and to discover my own responses to that experience, to experience violence, to experience the hand at my throat and submission to another’s control, to know how it feels to submit, and to discover how it feels to struggle against the predator and to fight the panic and force myself to remain in my body and not to watch from overhead, not to disassociate from my body but, to stay present and experience without the escape.

I wish to explore these desires because, that false self has tried so hard to hide them from me, and because I believe that our fears, our secrets and desires hold the keys to our greatest truth, our greatest self and out greatest power.

I lay upon my bed...

Nude by Renoir

I lay upon my bed,

The light turned out an hour ago,

The embers shimmer and glow inside,

The waves rolling off my skin,

Light the shadows all around.

I think of you and in my mind,

I hold your body close.

Although my heart would be for you,

A place of love and healing,

My mind tells me that what you need,

Is not what I can offer.

I focus on your pain,

On my desire to transform

That sharp thing,

Into something else.

As intense and overwhelming,

And consuming as my need.

My body and my soul want you still,

Even in your darkest hour.

To feel your force,

Your frustration and your anger,

Your loss and grief and despair,

Pouring into me,

Purged and purified.

To be battered in your arms,

To feel your violence and your hope,

To feel your control,

And your abandonment of it.

To feel your hands around my throat,

Pressed against the wall,

With no escape,

No choice,

But to surrender to your will,

And be conquered by your power.

Romanticism

I am a romantic.  I have been for this entire lifetime, and I suspect for many lifetimes before this one.  No matter what other way I might define myself, that is a truth that colors all others.  I sometimes feel as though I should be embarrassed about this part of my nature.  We live in a cynical world.  It is not considered sophisticated or even intelligent to be romantic.  Somehow intellect and romanticism are considered to be mutually exclusive.  But I am an intelligent, rational, logical person.  My brain works just fine.  My brain does not get to overrule my heart, as much as it may seem safer to hide my heart from ridicule, my soul chooses to embrace my heart’s desires and to believe in the magick that is love. 

I have, at times, embraced the cynical, cold, hard-hearted logic the world esteems so highly.  I have, at times, clutched tightly to my intellect like a shield against the disappointment and heartbreak that comes from believing.  But, as much as I enjoy the flights of my intellect, it seems to me that my imagination has always been the source of life, of joy, of magick.  I think of my imagination as the creative expression of my heart, as the voice of my romantic self.  Intellect without imagination seems dead to me, or at best, only a half-life. 

My soul is the part of me that mediates between my mind and my heart.  And when my mind wants to be a bully and insist on safety and cynicism, or my heart becomes afraid that what it hopes will never come to pass, my soul chooses to be courageous and to insist upon believing in the dream.  My soul is a romantic.  So is my body.  My body responds to that which moves my heart and my soul. 

I find my body wanting physical intimacy, sexual intimacy but also the physical intimacy of touching, of skin against skin, of lying beside someone and feeling them breathe, of sleeping beside another body, of conversation and laughter and shared food, of simple companionship, and sharing energy.  This too is an expression of my romanticism.