In My Head

I've had time to think here lately. Not that life hasn't been busy, but... There's time.

Maybe it's just me, or maybe most slaves come around periodically to the question of "why." The simple reality is that beyond the first flush of gee whiz excitement that goes with the drop into "the lifestyle," anyone who does consensual slavery is doing something way deeper and way more serious than a sexually titillating activity. I hesitate to label this as some heavy spiritual path, but there is discipline to slavery; there is time invested, there is the point at which self-will must ultimately relinquish standing in favor of the Other.

I'm feeling myself in an almost "aesthetic" place. I've told myself, for awhile, that it was a phase, a stage, a passage created and caused by external factors that would eventually pass -- that, ultimately, things would turn around and I'd find myself back in a place where life would resume some sort of high-end sensual level that I recall with some nostalgia and fondness. But maybe not. Perhaps the path is headed in a different direction. Maybe, for me, that sensual path was a path that was headed, Icarus-style, too near the sun. Maybe, slavery is more quiet and more refined.

In searching "aestheticism," I found this interesting post on "Ambiguous Squiggle" http://mysticsquiggle.blogspot.com/2005/02/aesceticism.html . I'm not sure if I entirely agree with the premise here, or if I even completely understand it, but there may be something there. I do think that I "get" the part about aestheticism" being a "training for the mind." Like it or not, when the body cannot have all it wants, the mind comes to heel, comes to a point of attentiveness and quiet waiting.

Slavery. Waiting. Quiet.

swan