on silence and healing

I don’t do silence very well anymore.  It feels too much like compliance, like hiding.  It feels too much like the smiles my mother always wanted, like lies of omission so as not to make everyone else uneasy, like secrets that poison the soul.  Silence feels like pretending to be small, timid and weak.  

Anger is a natural emotion and when given appropriate expression it can be resolved.  Being silent about that emotion can twist it into something else, rage. And silent rage can twist into depression or, worse into violence, uncontrolled, directed inward or outward.

Grief and sorrow are human experiences and they heal with time and expression, but in silence they can linger and become chronic and persistent. 

Pain is a normal part of life, but it is only a part, it is not all of what we are here to experience.  Pain is temporary, but unless it is given a voice it can become a festering wound that infects the entire being.

Fear is also a common experience.  And it is my experience that if I am silent in my fear it holds much greater power over my soul.  If I can voice those fears and look at them in the bright light of day, they become less large, less powerful and I can choose to act with conscious choice rather than being paralyzed by my fears.

Joy, Love, Faith, Hope and Truth are the most powerful gifts a human can experience, in my opinion.  And these too require expression.  If we are silent in these blessings, if we are silent about our gratitude, if we are silent about those things that inspire us, we fail to honor and nurture those gifts, we fail to make room for them to manifest in our lives. 

It is not my nature to be silent.  I have spent many years living against my own nature.  Silence becomes a habit and when that habit has taken root too deeply it can take a lot of work to remove it.  I am working to live a less silent life, and I believe that life will be a healthy and a happy one.

Fear no longer rules my mind

Grief no longer chokes me

Rage no longer rules my heart

and Pain no longer wounds me

Hope and Joy and Faith and Love

These things shall now replace them

By Sun and Moon and Stars above

My Spirit now reclaims them.

the Other

I am the Other, the Shadow.  I am anger and rage and pain.  I am aggression and hunger.  I am claws and fangs and the desire to make others hurt.  I am vicious and destructive and ruthless.  I am the one who rejects the rules, I am the outlaw.

I am the one who has been locked away and the dark one behind the lady of sorrows.  I am the predator and the one who knows no compassion.  I am the wild one who shape-shifts and works with deception and stealth.  I am the one who drinks too much and builds boxes and locks things away.

I am the one who would choose the freedom of the open road, and anonymity.  I am the one who wants and will do anything to have what I want.  I am the one who lashes out and leaves others to deal with the consequences.   

I am the one who sacrifices the others and watches from outside our body.  I am the one who burns and the one who cuts and the one who hates. I am the one who does not trust, anyone, ever.  I am the one who never shows fear, or pity, or weakness of any kind.  I am the one who will not scream.

I am the one who will no longer be caged.  I am the one who refuses to surrender, no matter what. I am the one who is learning to find other ways to live.  

Mama Bear

I am the Mother.  The strongest, the fiercest, the most powerful, of all of the people who share this body.  I am she whose heart is the heart of the Warrior.  I am the one who will fight, who will win, who will do Whatever it takes to protect those who are Mine. 

Mine will not be harmed.  Mine will not be caged or chained; Mine will not be shamed or oppressed.  They will hurt sometimes, they will feel fear, they will love and be disappointed.  These are the lessons of life.  These are the gifts of learning our own strength.  I would not cheat Mine of these gifts but, if you try to harm the ones I love, if you pose a continuing threat to those who are Mine, you will incur my focused and unflinching attention. 

I am single-minded and unyielding in purpose.  I have compassion for all mothers, for all people (of all species).  I am she who can kill to feed one who is hungry, or to protect one who is threatened.  I am she who worships the Dark Mother, and the Lady of Sovereignty.  I am the one who can wield the sword and never flinch.  I am Mama Bear and I am a force to be reckoned with.

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.

The Third Gate

A cherished and trusted friend created and facilitated a ritual for me recently.  The intent was for me to experience fear and struggle and pain and to discover my responses, my limits, and to push me as far as I chose to be pushed.  It was a physical ordeal designed to accomplish a spiritual goal.

My friend believed that such an experiment would help me to achieve a state where I might find a part of me that I needed to connect with.  I trusted this friend to know how to push me, and to be willing and capable of doing so, and of safeguarding me should I become unwilling to back down.

It takes a lot of courage to push someone in that way, even more when you care for them.  It is difficult to put someone we care for in pain.  It takes a lot of trust that they are strong enough to cope with the results. 

I am grateful for my friend’s trust and for their courage, and for the ritual and for the profound discovery that resulted. 

A a result of the ordeal, I passed through three Gates, thresh-holds to depths of self.  I became connected to deeper and deeper levels within myself.  

The first Gate was a state of mind, of thoughts and words and a physical “high”.  It was also a psychic high, my “head-blindness” faded until I could “see” in ways that I have not before, I could feel, hear and smell in ways I have not before.

The second Gate was a state of emotion, of fear and submission and sexual arousal, of energy and need and instinct to survive.

The third Gate was a state of Power.  This was the state that I had hoped to reach. This was the place that I needed to be pushed to.  It is a place of strength and will, of aggression and fire and the warrior spirit within me. 

When I had reached that place, words were inaccessible; emotion was irrelevant, only power existed.

Returning to the place where words are possible required me to pass through the place of emotion again.  First was what my friend interpreted as “wrath”, then hysterical laughter, then wracking sobs, then a feeling of exhausted euphoria. 

After thanking my Patrons, my Ancestors and my Spirit Allies that I had invoked to protect and guard the space and whom I had entreated to push me and my friend until I had reached the place I needed to, I put the structures of myself back into a functional order. 

I did that by putting the space in order, then deconstructing the wards and the energetic fortress that I had built to create sacred and protected space and to keep out anything that might interfere with our work, as well as to keep in all the energy raised so that it would go unnoticed by anyone outside. 

I am still processing the magick but, I know that I will not be the same.  I also know that now that I have found that place, I need to master that power.  Power without purpose means nothing.  To use it, I must master it, to master it, I must access it, and to access it, I needed to find it.  Now begins the work of practice and finding the principles of honor that apply to its use. 

Truth be told, I have been afraid of my power.  I have been afraid that I will not know how to use it wisely and honorably.  That because it resides in a place where my compassion does not, to use it would result in everyone around me ending up “dead and bloody”. 

I understand now that I have what I need to make sure that does not happen.  There is a reason that my place of power must be accessed through the place where my compassion lives.  There is also a reason that I needed to struggle through the pain in order to find it. 

I will be continuing to explore my responses to pain and my limits, the things that it teaches me and the role that it plays in my sexual identity.  But this experience alone was worth more to me than I might have imagined.

I give thanks for the courage, trust, will, and inspired magick of my friend.  And to my Gods, Ancestors and Spirit Allies for knowing my strength and their relentless demands that I finally start living up to it.  I give thanks.

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.