Changes...

I am 50 years old.  From my perspective, this is only the beginning of a stage in my life that I would like to look forward to with excitement and a sense of adventure.  But while I choose to be optimistic about the future, there are things about which I feel some trepidation.

 My body has changed a lot in the past year.  It no longer feels like the same body I have been living with my entire life.  It no longer feels like the body I had a year ago.  My bones have changed, my muscles have changed.  I see slight differences when I look in the mirror. I no longer have a sense of strength and confidence in my body’s ability to handle accidents, injury, illness, or digging out from snow storms.  And sometimes I wonder how and when my body will lose its desire for sexual expression, and when my lovers will lose their desire for me.  There are moments when I am afraid of getting older, and times when I am afraid that I will not have the time or the energy I need to do the things I desire to do in this lifetime.

I want to go forward into the next 43 years strong and fearless, but I will admit to moments of fear and I will admit to moments of feeling week and vulnerable.  Perhaps these moments exist to give me the opportunity to understand a point of view I have never had before…

Needs

There are many needs that are common to human beings.  The needs for shelter, warmth, security, food and water and air.  The needs for sensory and intellectual stimulation and self expression.  The need for emotional and physical engagement with others.  These are necessary for healthy bodies, minds, hearts and souls.

I have become aware that I have certain needs and that I must find ways to meet those needs if I am to live a life that is productive and healthy. 

I need my car because I need my job because I need my home.  I need Air to breathe and Water to drink and to clean both my body and my home.  I need to eat to keep my body healthy.  I need my Pwca, my Family, my Friends and my Community.  I need my Gods and my Ancestors and my Allies.  I need to write.  I need to practice massage.  I need to sing and to journey.  I need to make love and I need sex.

I have lovers with whom I engage both emotionally and sexually and making love with them fulfills important needs.  But those lovers do not engage with me in the way that my friend did because it is not an inherent part of who they are. 

Engaging with my friend not only allowed me to discover specific needs but to meet them.  And now I need to find other avenues to fulfill those specific needs.

I have taken a new lover with whom I am engaging and we are exploring our mutual enjoyment of certain experiences together.  We are still working it out but, we both enjoy the energy that we raise when we engage with each other.  I need these things and I am enjoying this new exploration.

I am hopeful that I will eventually find an avenue for the one need that is unfulfilled since my friend and I ended the sexual aspect of our relationship, my need to submit. 

I need the catalyst of someone with whom I feel safe enough and, whom I trust enough and, who is strong enough, to push me to release my control, to allow my mind and heart and body to let go of their hold on my soul.  The freedom I find in those moments to go deeper into myself and, not to leave my body in an escape but, to dive deeper into my shadows and the depths of my own abyss.  I need that release. I need to go to that place to lay bare the dark faces and to bring their voices up from the silence. I need the safety of someone whom I trust to see those faces, to hear those voices.  Someone who enjoys holding me while I cry, who takes pleasure in my sobs and who enjoys helping me regain my strength and autonomy.

I need someone who enjoys pushing me to that place without words.  I can get there on my own, sometimes, through other means.  Through fasting and sleep deprivation and physical trial but, the results are not quite the same and the act of surrendering that control to another, and sharing those tears and secrets with another, is not present in those moments.  That need by definition requires the presence of another human being.

The need is not an everyday kind of thing but, it is a need that I must meet, or a part of me may slip away forever and I am not willing to allow that to happen.  It would mean giving up a part of my own magick and power and I have work to do.  I need all of my Self if I am to accomplish my purpose.  

the "bitch"...

 I am the one who loves the dress.  I am the one who does not show her face.  I am she who still hopes to be loved and valued, to be seen as beautiful, to be wanted, to be seen, to be safe.

I am the one who would love with everything I am.  I am she who would surrender completely to the will of one I trust.  I am she who knows how to trust and how to hope and how to let go.  I am she who cries and the one who wants to be held and be known and be safe.

I am she who wants to please, the one who wants to be told that I have done well, that I am worth wanting, that I am worth having.  I am she who desires to put those I love before myself because I love.   

I am the one who knows the way to the place the others cannot go.

the Switch...

I am a Switch.  I am one who enjoys both sides of the equation.  I enjoy the control of others and of myself.  I enjoy pain and the affects it has on my body and on my mind.  I enjoy the high I get from pain and I enjoy the high that others gain from the pain I am able to give to them.  I enjoy helping others to find the release they desire through the control that I can exercise over them.  I enjoy the control I can exercise over my own body in being able to transform pain into pleasure.  I enjoy the bruises and the pride I take in them and, the victory I feel after, strong and clean and unbroken. 

I enjoy being strong and capable.  I enjoy being good at what I can do.  I enjoy taking care of others and being strong enough to take what they might choose to give to me.  I enjoy the power that is in my control regardless of what “side” I am expressing.  I enjoy the challenge of facing someone stronger than me and showing them and myself that I am as strong as they are both in will and in control. 

I am fierce and strong and unbroken.  I am both Dominant and masochist.  I am a hedonist and I enjoy the experiences…all of them.

on empty space and learning to love better...

Winter is here.  My relationship with the man I fell in love with is returning to its previous form of expression.  My friend, as he said he would, saw me through the holiday. Because, let’s face it, being alone through the holidays just plain sucks. 

I am grateful for his company and for his acceptance of my love.  I am grateful for the freedom to love him in the way that I wished, uncensored and unrestrained.  I am grateful for the opportunity to learn about myself and my desires and my needs, to learn about my boundaries and how to respect them and how to express the various people who share this body.

I have learned a great deal through this experience.  I have loved him with everything I am and (for maybe the first time in my life) I did not lose sight of who I am but rather gained a better understanding of how I function

I shed a few tears when the holiday was over.  I was sad.  But I am not afraid, and I am not grieving in the way that I expected to. There is a space inside that feels like a flower opening and making an empty space for the sadness to exist but it is not painful, it just aches a little because I will miss the intimacy and warmth that we shared.

I will continue to love him and our friendship will continue as before, although our connection is stronger than it was, and I am grateful for that too.

I am surprised to find that I am hopeful.  That I am capable of loving someone and of letting go when the time comes.  I can love someone and not sacrifice everything that is truly important to me.  I can be stronger having loved someone. 

I will not be alone, I have other lovers and friends with whom to continue this adventure and I will.  But for my friend and the gift of these past seven months, I give thanks.  

Panic

The people who love me want me to be happy.  I want to be happy.  Even more, I want the people I love to be happy.  My loved ones, for the most part, are normal people.  To them, wanting me to be happy means wanting me to be safe and cared for, by someone normal and nice, wanting me to have a normal relationship, so that I am not alone.  To that end I have been going out and meeting people.

This has resulted in my being exhausted and vulnerable and in an extreme state of weakness that resulted in a panic attack last night.  I rarely experience panic anymore but, in the past two months I have had two such experiences.  

I have experienced social anxiety for most of my life.  Meeting strangers, no matter how nice they are, is exhausting and stressful.   But meeting strangers, who are looking for something that I am incapable of giving, is so in the extreme.  Nice people that want something pull at me.  And no matter how hard I work at breaking the habit of “people-pleasing” when I am tired and not on my guard, I slip into the habit.  So I have been trying to please my loved ones and I have been trying to be nice to strangers and I have been feeling pulled at. 

Instead of listening to my own needs for solitude and withdrawal, I kept trying.  I was trying to do what my loved ones think I need to do.  To engage with others so that no one has to worry about me being alone and in pain.  But being in pain because I loved someone is something that I cannot and will not avoid by distracting myself with others.  I am not made that way.  I believe pain teaches and heartache is something humans recover from.

The experience has borne fruit, the panic attack notwithstanding.  A beloved was present as a voice in the night and I was reminded once again with empirical evidence that I am not alone.  And with that beloved's help, I re-discovered the shadow child and the behavior that triggered her into speaking so loudly.  Allowing myself to be pulled at by strangers.  Feeling guilt and self-judgment about being incapable of connecting with others.  Feeling guilt about not being able to make those I love happy because I feel differently about how to find happiness for my life.

I realize that my beloveds want me to be happy in whatever way I need.  They would not judge me.  I need to pay attention to what my internal committee tells me, what my heart tells me, even if that means being alone for a while to listen to the child, or to recover my balance, or to focus on my work.  Healing takes time and space.  Panic occurs when I feel trapped.  I will give myself space enough to hear. 

The Committee

Pathways by Susan Sedon Boulet

I do not suffer from dissosiative identity disorder however, compartmentalization is a natural part of how I function. It does pose a challenge in areas where it creates obstacles to emotional involvement or, to engaging all of myself in certain processes, especially magickal ones.  I am actively working to overcome those obstacles in those areas of my life.  This includes how they affect my identity and my ability to live with integrity.

I am becoming familiar with the many different people who live within this body…I would call it my body but, it is truly our body…it belongs to each of us.  Each of us has desires.  Each of us has only this body to fulfill those desires, to experience that which she craves, to express who she is and how she loves.  Complete integration does not seem to be truly possible, or ideal for that matter, because someone would have to be sacrificed, suppressed or silenced, and we have been doing that for far too many years already. 

We have been communicating with each other and we have been attempting to express our various desires, to find common ground and to establish boundaries that we can agree upon when those desires are in direct conflict with each other.  It has been important to recognize that each of us has a distinct voice and deserves to be heard and to be allowed to express herself and her desires without being sublimated to another.

Sometimes more than one of us desires to engage and, while some of us can engage simultaneously if our natures are similar enough, some of us are too different to do so and a choice must be made.  We are learning to negotiate those choices so that no one goes hungry to the point of rebellion. 

Rebellion is generally counter-productive and results in destructive behavior.  We have been working and conversing for many long nights over these past months to establish agreement so that we can live with integrity, for each of us and, for all of us.

I will be sharing the poetry and expressions of these various persons/parts of me, on this blog over the next few weeks or months.  For now I will simply “name” them, the mother, the witch, the priestess, the bitch, the woman, the switch and the other. 

We greet you, Merry Meet, Hail and Welcome.

The Dress

This past weekend my friend took me on an adventure into the city and we visited some of his favorite shops. At one of the shops, among many wonderful things, I found a dress.

The dress is a magickal thing.  It is enchanting and enchanted.   When I put it on, I cried. 

The dress is beautiful and romantic and it makes me feel like I am twenty years old.  It makes me feel like the young woman that I was before I gave up the last vestige of hope of being a mother, of falling in love. Of finding someone who would love me, all of me, who would allow me to feel safe.

I bought the dress because I could not bear to leave it.  But when we left the shop and continued on our way, he asked me when I was going to wear it and by instinct I answered,”Never”.  And that was my intention…never to where it.  Because the part of me that loves it, that it belongs to, is a part of me I am afraid to show to anyone.

That part of me has lived in a locked box for decades until only a few weeks ago.  The box was finally broken into and the person inside has been the most difficult part of me to reconcile.  

Because she is not angry nor strong nor aggressive nor courageous.

She is weak and soft and, against all of the evidence, she still hopes for the chance to be loved, that she can be, that someone will see past the weakness and decide that she is not more trouble than she is worth. 

She still hopes to be seen as beautiful and valuable and to be wanted, for all of her softness and her weakness and her capacity to give absolutely everything that she is to someone simply because they want her and she loves them.

My friend, as he would, argued the point. And the next day, when I showed the dress to my son, who was the last great thing that the twenty-year-old me ever did, he too made the argument that I should wear the dress and that I should not be afraid to show my “weakness” or my softness, that there is no part of me that he will not love.

I wore the dress today for someone I love, who loves me.  I will wear the dress again for others whom I love and trust.  I will choose hope and love.  May my Gods be pleased with my weakness. 

So mote it be.

Winter is coming...

For the past six months or so I have been engaging with a friend whom I trust and respect.  He has been helping me to learn and to experiment and to explore my own inner desires, needs and identity.  And to find my power and to open the boxes.

The experience has been productive and enlightening as well as profoundly pleasurable and often intensely painful. 

I knew when we began this journey that he needed to maintain and respect his own boundaries.  In this case, that meant maintaining his emotional distance.   I knew that it would end, and while it has continued for longer than I originally expected, it will be ending soon.

I am grateful for the sacrifices my friend has made on my behalf.  I am grateful for the fact that our relationship will not end but rather, will continue as before.  But that fact poses another challenge for me. Because one of the many profound things that has happened during these past few months is that I have fallen in love with him.

I knew when I fell for him that I would hurt when it ended.  I knew that he could not fall in love with me.  And I made a choice.  I made the choice to allow my heart to fall, and to face the pain when it comes. 

I will admit to wishing and wanting a different ending than the one I knew would be.  I will admit to wishing that he could indeed feel the same.  But I will not regret the choice I made to love him. 

I fell in love with someone a year ago, and chose not to act upon it.  I held back for reasons that matter not even a little.  I vowed that I would not do so again.  So I cannot regret falling in love and loving this man for the time allowed to me.  Nor can I regret the pain that will result from the loss of him in my bed when the winter comes.

I do keep wanting and wishing.  I do feel the pain of the grief and the loss even now.  But I also feel the fullness in my heart of loving him.  And that is worth everything.

Learning to feel...

It has been a difficult week and I am trying to process all that has happened.  It started with an experience that opened up a lot of emotional boxes that I have kept carefully locked for a long time.  This resulted in an average of three hours sleep each night and dreams that I wish I did not remember, that made my waking hours uneasy. 

This weekend I spent with loved ones and attended the celebration of a cherished friend.  I have been looking forward to it for months.  Before the party, we engaged in a few hours of very energetic play that included pushing my limits in ways that I did not expect. 

My reaction to these experiences, before we ever even arrived at the party, was unexpected as well, although not unfamiliar to me.  My anger escaped and I felt overwhelmed by feelings.  Not specific feelings that I could identify and process but, rather simply too much feeling.  And as has been the case for the past week, my ability to shut down those feelings was missing.  It was just gone. 

The part that was familiar was an almost overwhelming desire to walk out onto the highway and catch a ride to anywhere else.  The thought that “I could be ten states away by morning” kept repeating in my brain.  The desire to hurt someone was also very strong and difficult to silence. 

I have not had those thoughts, those desires, so strongly in decades. And I returned to a behavior that I rejected years ago.  I resorted to sipping on a bottle of fire whiskey all night long to quiet those thoughts and to numb those feelings.

That form of self-medication has never proven to be very effective and, while I managed at first to regain some semblance of control and even danced and spent time laughing with loved ones, the moment eventually came when I just fell apart.

I know exactly where I was when it happened.  The truly mystifying thing about it was that, suddenly I was surrounded by six people whom I love, and I do mean surrounded.  They were standing around me in a circle.  One moment to the next, they were just simply there.  I have no idea how they knew what was about to happen.  None of them have ever seen me in that state before, certainly not at a party.  But I could not hold it together any longer and I could not keep the feelings contained, nor could I keep them out. 

It feels as though they stood there with me for a long time.  I believe I was crying.  I know that I was ashamed.  I know that I kept apologizing for my weakness.  I know that they kept reminding me, that if it were any one of them, I would not consider it to be weakness. 

I am incredibly grateful for their support.  And for a beloved who sat in a car with me and talked me down from a very bad anxiety attach after, and for beloveds who never complained when the dreams that kept waking me, woke them as well.  And who let me remain silent on the long drive home. 

I am home now, alone in the quiet with my beloved Pwca.  My chest still hurts and I keep crying, over what I don’t know, but I am safely away from the thoughts and the feelings that seemed so overwhelming.  I will try to sleep again and hopefully the dreams will let me.  I will try to make sense of this week when I wake.  

Self discussion

I am awake long past the time I should be asleep, again, because the voices in my head are having a discussion.  There have been many of these discussions in the past few months.  Once upon a time that would have meant nights of profound despair, of voices screaming at me with recrimination and rage, with accusations and loathing and a great deal of emotional pain.

But those conversations have changed.  Now they are a function of self discovery and reconciliation.  Now the voices have become distinct, they are honored now, they are heard and they actually listen to each other and even work together to understand their separate points of view so that they can either come to a consensus or establish a balance with healthy boundaries.

I am engaged in an active process of integration.  Many of the voices hold no conflict between them and are in agreement about most of their desires and how to achieve those desires.  Most of them agree about ethics and behavior and can all play nicely together.  And we all agree that living our life fully and without shame or fear is necessary.

To that end, I spent the weekend doing just that, and I feel energized and joyful.  But there was a moment that required me to let go of an opportunity to engage in a way that I would have enjoyed.  I did not “hold back” in the way that I used to, out of fear or shame or any other self censorship (and that in itself is a victory for me) but, there was quiet decision made almost without conscious awareness (also a victory of a kind) to wait and let the opportunity pass for now.  That is the subject currently under discussion.  There is a boundary that we are not all in agreement about and we need to have a conversation, because everyone at the table has a voice that is important to living with integrity.

I am pleased that the voices are all actually mine, and not from others, society, or programming from childhood, nor are any of them angry or fighting dirty. They are each honestly engaged in figuring this out so that we can make a decision that is right for all of us.  I had not been consciously aware of the boundary conflict in the moment but, I am pleased that the uncontrollable self-destructive pattern has been successfully replaced with patience and trust.

It might be a long night but, it will be productive and much less painful than they used to be.

I give thanks.

Judgments

The thought crossed my mind today that I wish I had not learned these things about myself. 

I am having difficulty accepting and reconciling the conflict between these desires and most especially with the judgments that I make about them. It feels as though these desires belong to separate people who do not understand or trust each other.  And who judge each other harshly.

I considered pretending that they are not real, not truly a part of me but, I have too many memories from too many decades that prove to me that they are true and that they are profoundly important. I have too many memories from too many decades that warn me that pretending that they are not real will fail and that would be dangerous to my well being.

I fear that the part of me that enjoys inflicting pain and controlling others is too chaotic, too destructive, too angry, too dangerous.  I fear that given the freedom to express itself, it will hurt someone because it does not give a damn.  That it is devoid of both compassion and conscience.  That it is incapable of self-control or compromise.

That part of me is so angry because I have denied its existence and its right to exist and to express itself since I was a little girl.  And it judges me, and the part of me that enjoys pain and submission as weak, and deluded, and a coward, and a liar and a whore. 

Some of these judgments may be based in truth.  I have been a liar in denying certain truths, or in pretending to be other than I am.  I have been deluded in thinking that pretending can make it so.  I have been a coward in not speaking because I was afraid.  I have been a whore in betraying my own integrity and honor.

But I am not weak, and I am striving to overcome years of habit in behaving otherwise.  And if I give that angry part of me the chance to express and to live, it may learn to do so in a way that will not be as destructive or out of control as it has been in the past.

So I will put aside the judgments and try for reconciliation and understanding.  I will give each of these conflicting parts of me a gift.  I will give them both the chance to dress up and dance to music that expresses those desires.  I will give them both a book of their own to write from their own point of view. 

That is what I do, I communicate.  Maybe through acknowledging and honoring both as equal parts of myself, as equally deserving of existence and life, and giving each the space to express those desires, to create art and poetry and stories about who I am, I will be able to integrate them into a happy and whole person that is me.

While I may find this knowledge confusing and disturbing, I am committed to understanding all of who I am, and to learning to live as a whole person.  I suspect that the process of integrating these aspects of my identity and of mastering the power that they hold for me will be uneasy, perhaps uncomfortable, and possibly painful.  I know that the prospect is terrifying. 

But fear and pain are not reason enough to turn back, even if I could.  I have paid too high a price to fail.  People I love have sacrificed so that I might finally live.  I will not betray them, I will not betray myself.  I will do whatever is necessary to fulfill the vows that I have made.

So Mote It Be.

The Paradox

The paradox of human identity is wonderful and horrible all at once.  It is necessary and beautiful and terrifying.  And sexual identity is all of those things and incredibly messy on top of it all.

The thing about exploring who you are is that sometimes it means you have to face up to things with which you may not be comfortable.  And just when you think you have come to terms with one truth about your Self, it gets all turned around, and upside down, and inside out, and backwards and you discover another truth that your mind and your heart might have difficulty reconciling.

My Gods have been pushing and demanding and relentless in their insistence that I work with my source of power and to do that I need to fully know it.  I have recently spent time with my friend experimenting and exploring and having fun and being terrified. 

This work did not involve much pain for me but, it did involve a great deal of fear and working with a part of me that I had insisted was false…as it turns out I was wrong.  It is not false, but it is angry, very angry.  And it frightens me more that any pain I have ever experienced.

As much as I have the capacity to accept and enjoy pain, I have an equal capacity to enjoy inflicting it upon others and perhaps an even stronger drive to do so.  My pleasure in submitting to the control of another is equaled by my pleasure in controlling someone else. 

My friend (who does not enjoy pain in the way that I do) allowed me to express this, even pushed me until I did so.  This was difficult and terrifying for me (and painful for them and I am immensely grateful for my friend's strength and commitment to help me learn about myself).  I do not know anything about expressing that desire with control, although I have controlled it for most of my life, I have done so by not allowing it any expression and that is not something that I can continue if I am to live with the integrity that my Gods demand. 

I need to work with these conflicting desires until I can find a balance, until I can express both within my ethical structure and with the care and control that is necessary for my safety as well as the safety and well being of anyone with whom I might engage.

I will work with all that I am to integrate these disparate truths.  To be a whole person is to be a well and happy person.  Without knowledge, no work is possible and I would simply be continuing to hide from myself.  I began this exploration with the vow that I would not look away, and I will not.

Pain High

There are many different types of pain that human beings experience.  Let me be clear, I am not discussing the pain that results from unhealed emotional, psychological or psychic wounds.  Those wounds that I have experienced, that may be described in that way, if indeed they ever were, are no longer.  Any wounds of that nature that may linger will complete their healing in their own due time, the stronger I am, the faster they will be made whole.

I enjoy pain.  I enjoy the physical high that results from the kiss of a single-tail whip (although I have not yet felt it as directly as if my skin were the target, I am looking forward to that experience with anticipation).  I enjoy the buzz that I get from the flogger striking my skin, from a sharp edge being traced across my body, the burn of ropes, the heat of flame.  All of these things will get me high.  They will increase my heart rate and bring a flush to my skin.  They will raise my body temperature and my energy level.  And they heighten my awareness and perceptions, even my psychic abilities are improved in that state.  The release of neuro-transmitters in my brain is a very pleasurable thing.

I enjoy the pain that arouses me sexually as well.  I like the feeling of my friend’s hand slapping my leg, or pulling my hair, or gripping my arms hard enough to leave bruises.  I enjoy the feeling of his nails on my back clawing hard enough to leave marks, and the sharp pain that results when he pinches me.  I like the way my body responds to his fist against my thigh, and to his teeth biting into my flesh.  I become aroused when he puts his hand around my throat (and I have asked him to apply pressure at some point, because I want to experience that too).  These things also get me high.  They open up my energy centers and wake up my sexual center.  They arouse me in ways I have only glimpsed before.

All of these things are extremely pleasurable to me.  But they are external, and they do not push me.  I can experience a great deal of external pain and it will not push me emotionally.  It will not touch me inside.  It does not reach the deeper places.

I enjoy sex.  I have had some wonderful experiences with a few cherished beloveds who did touch me deeply, men who can and do move me emotionally and energetically by mere proximity to them and their strength and power, men whom I love deeply and who have helped me to discover that sex is a wonderful gift.  That my body is capable of so much more than I had ever realized, that I can receive and give great pleasure.  That allowing my energetic body to open to theirs is not only possible but, amazing in its beauty and power.  I give thanks for those gifts.  And I have shed tears in some of those moments because I was so touched, so moved by the beauty of them that I could not help but cry. They taught me to trust, myself as well as them.

But the sex that pushes me, that touches me so profoundly that I curl up shaking with sobs, is brutal.  When my friend fucks me in that way, he pushes me over that thresh-hold.  He gives me the type of pain that I need in order to reach that place.  Pain alone cannot accomplish that; sex alone cannot get me there.  Only a lover who is willing and capable of fucking me with brutality can push me over that thresh-hold. 

And it is a place I need to go.  It makes me aware of my own strength, it teaches me about my instincts for survival and my need for vulnerability.  It teaches me about balance and makes me feel in ways that I cannot avoid, that I cannot hide from.  It reminds me that I am not timid or weak or small.  It reminds me that I am not meant to be silent, and that I will never be powerless.  Even when I choose submit to another, it is always my choice, my power is still there inside me, always. 

After I have re-established my autonomy, the bruises feel good.  I feel satisfaction and pride in them.  They make me smile for days, remembering and feeling clean and strong and capable.  Yet another lovely pain-high.

POETRY IS NOT MEANT TO BE POLITE

Before you read any further, understand that the warning at the entry to this blog is there for a reason.   Most of what I have shared here has been written as politely as I am capable of and still discuss the subject matter in question.  The poetry has been the most explicit, and that is because;  

POETRY IS NOT MEANT TO BE POLITE

It is meant to make you feel and respond, to think yes, but more than anything, to experience.  If I was to censor that mode of expression I might as well never write another word as long as I live.

That being said, I am done being polite.  I am done speaking gently so as not to upset anyone, or make anyone uncomfortable.  I am done being anything but brutally honest on this blog.  

This is my place to speak about things that I need to speak about.  This is my place to look at all of the stuff that anyone else would have me hide.  This is my place to explore my journey.

You are welcome to read and to comment as you please, provided you respect the privacy of others, but I will no longer be discrete in my choice of language nor in the subjects that I choose to explore.

I have finally taken the step out of the theory and intellectual exploration and into exploring and experimenting and experiencing in the real world.  

I have experienced a profound awakening and I choose to share those experiences and to explore the meaning I am finding within them here. 

If you do not want to know…don’t read this blog any further.  

I will not be offended by your choice. Go in peace and grace and blessed be on your journey.

If you choose to continue to read these posts, I thank you for your support and your company.  I hope that you may find something here worthy of your time and contemplation. Blessed be.

Boundaries

I have been exploring and experimenting lately.  I have been meeting new people and discussing the nature of desire, and I realized that one of the skills that I need to develop further is the ability to hold strong boundaries.  To see clearly what I desire and to distinguish that from what others may desire.

It is not only a need to communicate those desires, or to negotiate what I am willing to try, but to hold clarity about myself, and to respect my boundaries. 

I have spent most of my life, until recently, complying with the wishes of others.  “People-pleasing” is a habit.  I caught myself asking whether or not I could meet another’s desire, and deciding that, I could indeed accommodate their wishes. 

I realized in that moment that, I was asking the wrong questions.  I need to be asking myself, “What do I want?” and   "Is this person’s desire compatible with my own?”

I can no longer afford to compromise what I want, or my need for autonomy and independence, to fit someone else’s dream.  This journey must be about my dreams. 

In a conversation with someone who was trying to pick me up, and who I had no desire to accommodate, I heard a gem of wisdom.  “It's not about surrendering to another person but, to your own body’s experience.  It’s about your own energy being released, and about your own power to choose.”

In an experiment with a cherished and trusted friend, I discovered that it is indeed about surrendering to my own body, allowing my own energy to flow freely, and it is about my power. 

Choosing to submit to another, in that moment, and only for that moment, is a choice to express my own power and, in doing so, to remember that power. 

The choice is mine and the power is mine. I must be diligent to choose consciously, not through habitual pattern.  And I must be diligent not to sacrifice my strength but, to choose my own desires.

time travel and the laws of physics...

Photo by Helen Jarvis-Reynolds

In the sunlight, 

the tail occasionally strikes, 

kissing my arm, my leg, my belly, 

the side of my neck once.  

We are just playing  but,

the bite of the tail, slight as it is, 

brings a flush to my skin, a rise in my heart-rate 

and a slight release of neuro-transmitters in my brain, 

I still understand the science, for now.

Later, we sit in the summer evening.  

I recall moments from long ago; 

the sound of rain on the roof of a car, 

the smell of South Carolina soil, 

the taste of strawberry wine,

another face, another name,

and the structure of time begins to shift.  

My memories from a lifetime ago are closer than they appear.  

the day to day, of life as it is now, fades to a distant past.

Later still, I sit on my bed in soft cotton, 

drinking wine and listening to music from that life long gone; 

you say my voice changed somewhere during the third song... 

The occasional touch of your claws playing lightly on my arm 

causes another release of the magick potion in my brain, 

I am less conscious of the science now.

I got up to get something, 

from the kitchen I think, more wine maybe? 

I am not sure now, 

you were standing behind me, 

your claws tracing symbols across my skin.

“You may turn around now…” 

your voice, a whisper from a half-remembered dream.

Moments skip forward; 

Minutes? Seconds? Days? Hours? Years?

The structure of time has lost cohesion.

bent over the bed, my hands behind my back,

"Do not move"...

the universe collapses into my skin... 

there is no spoon, no room, no clock on the wall, no walls…

only your claws on my back, your growl in my ears, 

your hand gripping my hair, 

pulling my head back, exposing my throat.

The magick in my brain has taken effect; your spell has cast me into power...

The laws of physics have been replaced by a warm russet fog 

that smells like sex and tastes of your skin; 

gravity no longer applies. 

Your forearm pressing against my neck makes it difficult to breathe, 

your grip on my hair tightens, 

both pull me back against you, 

“Don’t make a sound” 

and when you have finished fucking me again... 

“That, was for me."

Your voice penetrates the fog that fills my body and my brain, 

causing the temperature to increase by a magnitude...

Later, after you have restored the clock 

along with the walls and spoons and things, 

and I am once again a woman of my age 

and not a time-traveler, containing the entire universe within my skin, 

you ask me about the things I said when you asked me "why?"…

There are no bruises this time, but for a shadow on my belly from your teeth, 

and answers that I do not remember giving...