To Hear or Not to Hear....that is the Question?

So in follow up to the preceding post we went off down the yellow brick road to see the Wizard......the Dr. ENT. We were taken into to an exam room with a sound booth and audio metric "stuff." We were treated very supportively and with deference to how wonderful it is that she seems to have sudden hearing improvement. They explained how different the new audio metric tools were (ear buds not ear phones, etc.) and proceeded to test her. There was first pressure to test the volume and response of the ear drum.............all normal....both ears.

Then there were hearing tests. In the early going the woman testing us said that there was evidence of some slight hearing response in her "deaf' ear. I was excited. Eventually the woman testing her brought in another more highly trained and credentialed person and they did a number of tests which control for conductivity (bleed over of hearing from the good ear or from vibrations effecting the skull which are sensed rather than via the auditory nerve.) The test was difficult and at times swan was in tears at feeling she heard "beeps" in her "deaf" ear. They told me they did tests that went beyond the usual regimen in light of her situation.


So we were ushered into the all knowing and all powerful ENT Dr. wizard guy. Everyone told us he is a huge expert in complicated hearing loss cases. It was obvious in responding to his early questions about swan's case that he had no knowledge of her history, but had reviewed the audio metric results. He explained that their testing indicated that she had 100% normal hearing in her "good" ear, and no hearing at all in her "deaf" ear. As for her suddenly being able to discern the direction from which sounds emanated, the degrees of sound,etc. he lectured us about the amazing ability of the brain to sometimes accommodate for the loss of discernment experienced by "unilateral hearers" to "learn" to interpret the sound heard by the good ear similarly to normal hearing. He told us that he expected her brain had learned some "new tricks" and that was a good thing. He had made it clear early on that he wanted to speak to her and not me (my lack of standing as a "real spouse"?.....who knows). He explained to her that her hearing loss is the result of a bacterial infection, a viral infection, or an auto-immune problem. He told her hers was clearly the result of a bacterial problem. Despite his disinterest in hearing from me, I asked if the fact that she had had simultaneous sudden hearing loss in both ears 16 years ago, with the hearing returning in one ear and not the other was pertinent? Suddenly he looked perplexed and said that if that was the case then it must be the result of a viral infection and not a bacterial infection. He also said that even in that case no one had ever had their hearing restored longer than three months after the hearing loss. To say that swan was/is disappointed and frustrated would be huge understatement.

We are left with unanswered questions.......some of which we asked Dr. Wizard with no real response. Why did they when they were first testing her get responses to beeps in her "deaf" ear when later they said the test indicated no hearing response? Why suddenly if a cell phone rings in our condo is she able to locate where the sound is originating when she could never do that before? Why can she suddenly tell the directionality of sound in her school? Is all this a "trick", some sort of magic neurological accommodation that suddenly came to pass Wednesday night, despite her continued deafness? How could he have failed to notice the "detail" that she originally lost hearing in both ears, with hearing eventually returning to one ear?

I don't doubt that Dr. Wizard is experienced and knowledgeable. He too appeared less than open to us (especially me).........and yes, I do know this is about her and not me.............but sometimes I do have a thought or two......that might add to the conversation. I was a witness to her event Wednesday night, whatever it was/is. He knows so firmly that no one's hearing ever returns, that I am left not feeling confident that if there had been evidence of her actually hearing, he would not notice it. It is a paradigm that is not to be threatened.........this irreversability of sudden hearing loss....or that is how I/we were left feeling. If there is a third option in the etiology of this, in auto-immune disease, why is that not explored? There is history of auto-immune disease in her family.

The fact is sue is perceiving things she has not for 16 years. Perhaps because of some sort of neurological accommodation.......and that is neat.

The unfortunate part of this, is she feels embarrassed...........like she has somehow deluded herself into some thing that is not real, and the style of interaction with Dr. Wizard didn't help that. I am telling her that perception is perception and the medical explanation is irrelevant. I am telling her how proud I am of her and of course how much I love her. T is right there as well. At least we have ruled out any medical problems....like a tumor or something.......as a cause for this change.

This test, which took over an hour, and the whole experience was difficult for swan........and certainly the disappointment too is hard.

Thank you to all of you who have responded so warmly to us as this has evolved.

All the best,

Tom

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.

Deaf

The appointment at the ENT lasted well over two hours. Much of that time was spent with some unbelievably intense testing of my hearing. By the time it was over with, I was incredibly shaken and feeling very wiped out. I was also very emotional.

Master sat in during the hearing test, and His feeling/understanding was that the audiologist found some slight but documentable hearing in the formerly deaf ear. When the testing was done, we were sent back to the waiting room to wait for the doctor to see us. I think we waited about 15 or 20 minutes. Then, we were called back to the examination room, and waited a bit longer.

When the doctor appeared, he was blunt: "there's no hearing in that ear."

It was like being kicked in the stomach. Master and I went back over the history (the doctor had clearly not read the chart information), but the story did not change. Nerve deafness, likely caused by a viral infection way back a decade and a half ago. Nothing that can be done. If there were going to be any recovery from this, according to this doctor, it would have happened in the first three months.

Still, I am adamant that what has changed has changed. I can detect the directionality of sounds. I can sense the relative distances of sounds. I am aware of resonances to voices and music that I haven't had any inkling of for years and years.

The doctor had no real explanation. He indicated that it was the brain, making accomodations for the loss -- after all this time. His take: "the brain does amazing things."

OK.

I am disappointed at some level. But it is an odd, disconnected sort of disappointment. I had a lot invested in this "restored hearing" phenomenon. Still, when I consider the "outcome" here, I am left with improved functioning. I AM hearing more and better than I was two days ago. Whatever the explanation, whatever the limitations of the science, whatever the dismissive bent of this medical professional, I hear what I did not previously.

Thank you all for investing in the possibilities with me and for me. Whatever we choose to call this, it is for me a huge and wondrous gift.

swan

Hearing

Just over sixteen years ago, I was sitting at home in my living room, grading students' school work. I was home alone, when suddenly, I heard a huge roaring sound.

That night, I lost my hearing. In the beginning, I was completely deaf in both ears, hearing nothing at all but that atrocious roaring. Within the first three days, the hearing in my right ear recovered, but my left ear was completely, profoundly, stone deaf.

I went through a very long, very challenging period of rehabilitation to learn to stand upright, to learn to read people's faces and lips, to learn to live well in my half and half world between the deaf and the hearing.

The best guess of the medical professionals that I saw at the time, and since, was that some sort of viral infection had damaged the auditory nerve. It has come to be the norm of my world. I simply do not hear on that side, and I've learned to cope pretty darn well.

Last night, around 11:00 PM, I was sitting in the living room talking with Master when suddenly there was a sensation in my deaf ear, much like the sort of popping that happens when our ears adjust to pressure changes. Suddenly, His voice was deeper, lower, more resonant and booming. I shook my head and shifted my seat, but the sensation remained.

Somehow, after more than a decade and a half, some part of my lost hearing has returned. Tonight, about 24 hours after the initial event, I am slowly accommodating the shift.

Last night, sleeping snuggled into His side, I discovered that I could hear the rhythmic in and out of His C-pap machine. Most nights, as I drift off to sleep lying on my good ear, I lose the ability to hear His machine making its noises, and I frequently wake up afraid because I haven't heard Him "breathe." None of that last night... I HEARD Him breathing even as I slept comfortably on my hearing side.

Today, the sounds in the school seemed layered. Always I've been aware of the "rumble" of the school around me, but the sound has never been differentiated. It is just the roar of my world. This morning, as I stepped into the hallway, I could tell that the 8th graders down the hall to my right were humming away, discussing some bit of history with their teacher. Down the central stairway, I could detect the sweet, young voices of a group of 2nd graders reading with an aide in the hallway, and off to my left, there were 5th graders making excited sounds in their classrooms that are away and around the corner from me. All of that is about direction; the where of sound, and it is an awareness that I've not had for a very long time.

Tonight, driving in the car, listening to the radio, I was able to stop up the "good" ear and feel the sound shift to a lower volume, and away to my levt and behind me. Now, I know the sound isn't moving around me, but this business of having sound "sound" different based on coming into one ear or the other is a "new" experience.

Now, as I sit here, writing this bit of a story, we have the stereo on, and I am surprised about the subtleties I've been missing. There are base notes, and resonances, and amazing riffs that I've never noticed. It brings me to tears.

Tomorrow morning, at 9:30, I will see an ENT to explore what I might do to extend, capture, and enhance this wondrous new experience. It wasn't easy to make that appointment happen. Doctor's appointments in the morning during school days are very complicated events. I managed to find a substitute to cover me in the morning, and I dragged myself back into school tonight to set up the necessary plans for him. So, it is all set. I'll see the specialist tomorrow, and we'll begin the process of learning how I might re-enter the hearing world.

I don't believe in miracles. Still, I am going to tell you that I never expected to hear anything in that ear again. I am just wide-eyed. Amazed. A little scared.

I just wanted to tell you all...

swan

Reboot

In the first couple of years after I moved to be with Master and T, there were occasions when I'd get into a space where my internal monologue was pretty negative. I'd get down on myself and begin to be very critical of my looks, my abilities, my intellect... You name it, I'd get started fussing, and pretty soon, I'd be convinced that I was worthless and good for nothing.

Master took exception to that thinking pattern. In His view, since I was "His," my self-denigrating talk was about HIS property, and therefore not acceptable. He reacted, on several occasions by restraining me bent over the end of our futon sofa, and giving me a severe blistering. He refered to this practice as "rebooting" me. I remember those events today, and my stomach still clenches. I experienced those sessions as traumatically painful and intensely aversive. I also remember that, afterwards, I would come up into a mind space that was gentler, calmer, and significantly more balanced. As difficult as those events were, they were also "good for me" in some very real way.

Of course, rebooting is a bit of computer jargon, and has nothing at all to do with BDSM. To reboot is to restart a computer and reload the operating system. The most common reasons to reboot are because the installation of new software or hardware requires it, or because applications are not responding for some reason. In Master's mind, the intense, punishment-style beatings He inflicted during those sessions "reset" my thinking and brought me back to a more appropriate set of responses.

I woke up this morning at just about 4AM. It is terribly dark at that hour, and awesomely quiet. Lying there blinking in the darkness, I found myself shaking internally, feeling very unsettled and very "small." I wriggled and squirmed, trying to get deeper into His embrace -- desperate for the warmth and security of His arms around me. I was just feeling terribly unsteady and unsure, and there is no real reason that I can identify for that. All I know is that I am feeling touchy and grouchy with the world, lately. I am worrying and obsessing about the outcome of the pending election. I am stressed, as we all are these days, about money. I have no patience for the "stupid" people of the world -- I find myself wanting to argue and fuss when I would normally simply shrug and walk away. I am not particularly sad, but I am not feeling steady either, and that makes me very nervous and jittery.

As I waited out the minutes until it would officially be "morning," I found myself thinking about those "rebootings" of so many years ago. In my head, I could hear the myself talking with myself. One very tiny and frightened voice whispers that I need to be "rebooted -- that it would be good for me." I can feel myself sort of nodding along with that, knowing that (at least in the past) I really did seem to benefit from that sort of treatment in the past. On the other side of the internal battle, is a voice that asks incredulously, "Are you out of your mind?! Rebooting is awful and painful and terribly scary. Just pull yourself together and don't even go there."

Sigh.

I am feeling caught. I am wondering what it is that I really need and want. I feel as if I need to talk with Master about this, but I don't actually know what it is that I need to say, and I don't want to annoy Him with my lack of a definitive answer. I feel so lost...

swan

A Meme

Sara tagged me. I don't usually DO memes. Probably, in all the years I've written here, there have been one or two memes that I've participated in. This will up the count by one...



The Rules-
* Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
* Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog - some random, some weird.
* Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.
* Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1. I am the oldest child in my family -- I had three younger brothers who, if you paid attention to my dad when he was angry with one of them, seemed to all be named "HangGreggKurt."

2. I spent 18 years working in the oil and gas and minerals industry. I remember when we thought it would be "heaven" if oil would hit $20.00 a barrel again.

3. I carried a petition in Wyoming for the Equal Rights Amendment to the US Constitution.

4. I was pregnant with my son before I married his father.

5. I was raised Catholic. I teach in a Catholic school. I am not Catholic -- nor am I "Christian" in any sense that most folks would recognize.

6. I love oyster stew.

7. I am deathly afraid of spiders.

I'm not going to tag anyone else. If you want to play, please do.

swan

Kitchens

Our living arrangements have been discussed here before. We live, side by side, in two condominiums which have identical, although mirror-imaged, floor plans. We've laid stepping stones, both front and back, that allow us to ramble between the two places and treat them as one household.

We sometimes talk, and dream, and imagine the possibilty of one home, under one roof. Inevitably, in doing that, we come to wonder how we might establish that single address without giving up the things we value in having our two "homes" that are one "home." One thing that comes up, every time we talk about it, is the "kitchen situation."

We have two kitchens; two stoves, two ovens, two refrigerators, two sinks, two dishwashers, two working pantries... We each have our own cookware -- the pots and pans and utensils that are the commonplaces of any kitchen. Our tastes in these items is divergent. T likes hers and I like mine -- my pans, my knives, my glasses... We keep our pantries and our refrigerators differently, and we stock different items. In our two kitchens we are simply different, although each of us fancies ourself a pretty good cook.

Not surprisingly, perhaps, in all the time we've spent together, our only serious scrapes have been in the kitchen. We are careful to not step on one another's toes in the kitchen. Help? Of course. We both do what we can to help and assist, but we've learned through years spent doing this dance, that we may share a great love and that is good. We just need to stay out of one another's kitchens.

And that is the practical truth of living polyamorously.

swan

When It Isn't "Fun"

Every now and then, something comes up in the daily round of “blogs that I read” that goes beyond the convivial on-going "conversation between friends" level that we all engage in a lot of the time. I don’t mean that in any sort of disparaging sense – I really enjoy our slow and relaxed and friendly chatter back and forth. Sometimes though, someone starts down a path that is way more intense – a place where it becomes NECESSARY to respond more thoughtfully and more deeply than we might otherwise. We do that for each other, and it is a good thing.

That’s exactly how it feels when I read the recent posts from my friend, Sara. If you don’t follow closely there, then perhaps a bit of background will help. Sara, and her husband, Grant, practice Domestic Discipline – and have for about four years. Sara and I have had some really good conversations about the similarities and differences between our respective power dynamics (here, here, and here), and I believe we’ve both grown as a result of that dialog.

Sara’s father died about three months ago, after a long illness, and as anyone can understand, she is deeply immersed in the work of mourning his loss. Too, Sara has a young adult son who struggles with mental illness. As a parent of a child with mental health issues, I can attest to the pain and worry that can arise when our children are in crisis. There is only so far we, as parents, can go to help – beyond that is a place of worry and desperate fear, and yes, anger.

Stop, for just a minute or two, and try and feel your way into the space that my friend is living inside of at this moment… Once you have done that, you are ready to start reading through the conversation we are having…

Sara first broached the subject of her current struggle here. She writes (in part):

"I cannot remember ever feeling really disinterested in spanking. Our ritual spankings twice a week are pretty much the corner stone of our Dd dynamic. Recently, though, it has become a bit of a struggle for me. I just don’t want to be spanked. I have been anyway. My husband has learned through trial and error that consistency is everything, and my Mr. Steady, he keeps going…I have complained a bit, wheedled a bit, pouted a bit, and then been spanked anyway. The spankings are making me cry, and I don’t want to. I am already wrestling with keeping myself together, and when he really spanks, I come unglued… he says I need to let go and cry, and spanks harder… I am angry… and have been pulling away a bit… He is not fixing this…he is as helpless as I am. He is supposed to be the guy in charge. That means he should have the answers, know the way, can protect me and make things right…"

I responded that I’ve “…been there and done that,…” and offered some words of support and affirmation.

Master, wrote at some length, from the perspective of the Dominant part of the exchange:
“Sara, these are difficult phases, especially for you, but for Grant too. They require steadfastness and honesty from both the Top and Bottom from my experience.
You need to be spanked consistently and unrelentingly despite your not “enjoying” it. We’re talking about spankings here…they’re not intended to be inherently enjoyable experiences after all.
Your increased emotionality during your spankings is likely an appropriate expression of your very understandable current phenomenological frame and general emotional state. The drama of routine unavoidable spankings and the threat of even more spanking, if you would behave to warrant that, likely are providing both a degree of diversion, relief, and security from what you are living through. That said too, being spanked is difficult and down right aggravating...
I do think the mythos that surrounds DD makes this more difficult. The Internet guru’s of DD, while they succeed in empowering couples to rationalize away the stigma they’d feel if they admitted they were engaging in SM behavior, also set DD couples up for a more difficult time when they encounter these phases where things just don’t work the way DD philosophers tell everyone things will be...
…we have gone through these phases, at times for protracted periods. swan still got spanked…There were times when her anger grew to such an extent that she literally physically attacked me in blind rage…She knows that I am here for her and that she will be spanked……for joy, for connection, for fun, for intimacy, for security, for eroticism, for discipline, whether she likes it or not………when she feels good as a result and when she doesn’t."

Sara – responded with some more comments, thoughts, and explanations of her own. She also asked for clarification on Master’s DD comments.
And then, she posted the “next installment:” which was largely a window into her internal monologue with Master:

"Here’s the real problem for me. I know that spankings hurt…get that. But what you do with that hurt inside, where it goes, what it triggers is a different thing entirely. Maybe the libido is at a low or maybe it is just being emotionally full with hard stuff, but the pain that often takes me to better places inside me, and ultimately makes us feel more connected, instead taps into anger and fear, and then the pain is just pain, and I have enough inside right now, without the pain of the spanking…thanks very much. I get angry, feel more distant, sad that the experience didn’t help me/us…Getting through a painful spanking just for the sake of it seems pretty harsh…for what? If we cannot reach the goal right now…to feel better, to connect, find that us place we get to, and if there is not a punishment to be had…why spank?…if I am not getting anything out of this, and we need to keep going for us, why the heck is it, always and every time, my butt on the line???"

All of that is so convoluted and so complex and so painfully honest about what it feels like to be in a power-based relationship when the “magic” stops working, and it feels like nothing “good” is coming out of the struggle. Here’s at least some of the discussion and thought process we’ve been engaged in on our side of the conversation:

We both remember, so clearly the very difficult couple of years that followed my hysterectomy. I battled through some severe depression, and wallowed in huge anger at the changes to my sexual responsiveness in the aftermath of that surgery. It seemed, to me, that there was something terribly unfair about having to still engage in the very challenging and painful process of BDSM spanking play when my body was seemingly devoid of any sort of libido that might take me to some sort of “pay back.” I careened from emotion to emotion, always feeling like somehow, He was to blame for the state of affairs in my life. It was, most assuredly, “my butt on the line,” but it was both of us on the line with our hearts and our fears. We survived and have come to a very good place, and neither of us believes that it was simply luck or the passage of time. The truth is that our BDSM dynamic informed the decisions that we made, provided us with models and guides to follow, and helped us to understand and cope with the range of emotional responses that we encoutered along the way.

That is, in very large part, the truth that underpins the comments that Master made regarding DD. Domestic Discipline is a unique and interesting subset of the BDSM universe. For the most part, people who find and ascribe to DD, especially as a singular practice, tend to hold to a world view that their lifestyle is somehow more wholesome than what goes on in BDSM. It is possible, and even pretty commonplace, to find people who practice Domestic Discipline, who will express real discomfort with labels like “masochist” and “sadist.” DD puts itself out as a way to create harmonious relationships, establish order in the household, and create a clear leadership ladder within the family structure. It is sometimes couched in language that makes it seem consistent with mainstream religious beliefs, or perhaps it is garbed in a patina of being just the “natural way” between men and women – a way to reinforce and affirm the masculine and feminine sides of our human selves. It is entirely possible to spend a good long time within a domestic discipline framework, and not come to any sort of confrontation with the underlying personality that is quite likely an intrinsic part of an attraction to the practice of adult consensual spanking.

That may not present any sort of difficulty as long as things go along smoothly and easily. Trouble can ensue however, when the story goes bad. If DD is supposed to make everything more harmonious and more peaceful, then when the peace and harmony is shattered, it is hard to reconcile what is happening. Anger is a natural result. If the DD “Head of Household” is supposed to lead, supposed to manage, supposed to decide, then that person ought to darn well make sure that life is good, happy, peaceful, and fulfilled. It makes for a very good story, but it doesn’t work that way in real life. No person, no matter how naturally inclined to run the show, can keep all strife at bay. Death and disease and trauma and adversity are part and parcel of the human condition.


Sara points to the dilemma that is presented in this: "I know that spankings hurt…get that. But what you do with that hurt inside, where it goes, what it triggers is a different thing entirely." In the world of BDSM, there is a familiarity with this response. We BDSM'ers are aware that spanking taps into places in the human psyche that may be angry, hurt, mistrustful, damaged, scared, or simply very primitive in some way. We spend time talking about that potential, and we discuss the process of managing those emotional and psychological "land mines" so that we are prepared, in some fashion, for the actual eventuality of bringing up huge emotional responses. Within the lifestyle, it isn't viewed as unusual, or particularly bad for this to occur. It simply is. We know about it, and we deal with it -- just as we might deal with a blood sugar drop, or a vascular event, or any other unexpected "emergency" in a scene. Within BDSM practice as well there is study and technical work on the "how to's" of internal processing of this sort of reaction to pain play and finding ways to turn them into a growth experience if they can't be transmuted into a gratifying one. There are conferences and workshops and books and conversations on line and it support groups that deal with these and other dynamics. A not exhaustive, but typical reading list to begin with might inclued The Topping Book, The New Topping Book, The Bottoming Book, The New Bottoming Book, and The Compleat
Spanker (all available from Amazon and I'm sure the other major Internet book purveyors.)

Another interesting and unique situation that tends to arise with people who follow the DD path is that they almost always deny that they fit into the categories that the BDSM community identifies with the labels of masochist and sadist. Those are words with very specific connotations that are sometimes viewed as disparaging. It can be a bit of a "leap" to embrace personal descriptors that challenge our self-image as it has been molded and shaped within our dominant/normative culture. The trouble that comes from not “making friends” with your inner sadist or your inner masochist is that all of this spanking stuff becomes an artificial construct that is put in place and held in place by routines and protocols and expectations – all of which require attention and energy to maintain and support. That energy has to be invested by both partners and it has to be invested every single day, no matter what else might be happening. It leads to that very plaintive sort of questioning:

If we cannot reach the goal right now…to feel better, to connect, find that us place we get to, and if there is not a punishment to be had…why spank?…if I am not getting anything out of this, and we need to keep going for us, why the heck is it, always and every time, my butt on the line???

The only reasonable answer to those questions is that this IS us. It is who we are. I am a masochist, and He is a sadist, and that remains true -- even when it isn't fun or easy or feeling good. There is no “goal” in doing this except to express ourselves with one another and to one another in the most intimate and vulnerable and honest way we know. There is no “pay back” beyond the moment, beyond what we find in the journeying into the darkness together. We keep going, precisely because we are a matched set – masochist and sadist, and in the balance, we create our life as uniquely our own. Sometimes that is grand and joyfully erotic. Sometimes it is painfully angry and full of sadness. Always, it draws us to one another with wonder and a breathless awe at this truth that we share.

Grief cannot knock us from the peak that we share. Illness does not change who we are to and with one another. The daily slogging through necessary tasks and chores and worries does not dim the power that shimmers between the two of us. We are clear and at ease with what we are. Knowing that embeds us in a vast community of others who live lives informed by the same sort of self-awareness that is ours. We can go on, no matter what, because we understand the currents that carry us along. We don’t question the foundation – it is strong. When we feel, as we sometimes do, that our own energies are not sufficient to keep on, we can find hope and strength in the store of knowledge and experience that belongs to our BDSM family.



I don't personally care what words anyone uses to describe their life or their relationship dynamic. It simply doesn't matter to me. I understand that there are an array of reasons and personal reactions that cause people to use one set of descriptors rather than others. That's just fine. However, it has been my experience that claiming the vocabulary that describes my nature and my life has freed me to simply live as I will without having to insist that it all be something other than what it really is. That simplifies things immensely.



swan

No on Proposition 8

One of the amazing things about writing here for all these years, is the web of connections that have been formed, and the friendships that have been nurtured by the words shared across miles. I have written and written here, and I flatter myself that I'm pretty good at putting thoughts into words. I am not, however the only one who is capable of writing eloquently and convincingly. Here is an awesome piece, put together by randygirl, arguing for the defeat of California's Proposition 8. She makes the case far better than I could -- and SHE lives there. We, on the other hand, live here -- in a nation that still does not allow for equality for all those adults who would create legal, loving families. Proposition 8 will be a tragedy for California and for our nation. Go read and then do what you can do to make sure that marriage equality becomes the way it is across California and our nation.

swan

Family Voting

When I looked at the responses to Swan's last post, sara's comments reminded me of my Grandparents. Grandpa was a stanch REPUBLICAN.....and Grandma was a DIE-HARD DEMOCRAT. She did not drive, so Grandpa drove her everywhere......EXCEPT on Election Day.

On Election Day, they would get out of their shared bed and He would NOT speak to her as she cooked breakfast and they shared their meal. Then, he would go get into his car and head to the polls...without Grandma. She always had a cab coming to get her, and she would be driven to the polls. Often she arrived just behind him, and he would ignore her standing behind him. He would vote and go home. She would vote and the cab would drive her home. And he would not talk to her until after lunch.

It burned his butt that every election his vote was cancelled out by hers. The family in Ohio, was always tickled to get the call from Grandma in California on Election Day.

They have both been gone for many years, after sharing almost 50 years together. Him having his vote cancelled and Her giggling inside all the way until lunch.

They were the most accepting people. I am sure they are tickled watching our Family. It is just the thing they would have enjoyed.

T

Voting -- A Question

A very, very long time ago, when I was first exploring Domestic Discipline, I got caught up in a discussion on a listserve about a "hypothetical" situation where a Dominant or Master might ask the submissive partner to do something or make a choice that would be contrary to their values. I'm quite sure that I had all sorts of very carefully reasoned opinions on the subject, but I don't remember what they were exactly. I think I must have made the argument that the submissive (if they were submissive) would ultimately "go along" with the Dominant's point of view because I do remember that the "older," and more experienced list members kicked the shit out of me for being so naive and so "unprincipled."

Then, of course, life took its own path and I entered into a relationship that is based on and grounded in power-exchange. I have, over the course of these years, had times when I was asked (and sometimes required) to do things that I wasn't exactly crazy about. I've never encoutered an actual "ethical" dilemma in that process.

Last Saturday, we went as a family, to vote early in the upcoming election. It is our habit to research and discuss and decide on every issue and office prior to going to the polls. We are "political junkies" and we take the responsibility of voting very seriously. I sat down on the night before we headed to the Board of Elections to make us "cheat sheets." Our cheat sheets listed every choice we'c made for the various offices and the decisions we'd reached on every ballot issue.

At one point, regarding a ballot initiative, my "cheat sheet" listed: "Tom says yes / sue says no -- EEEEEKKKKK!" That was the best I could do on the evening before we went to the polls, and that simple statement conveyed the state of our conversation on the topic to that point. T commented on it as we sat at breakfast that morning -- and giggled just a bit at my consternation. Master said something offhand that left the sense out there that I would of course follow His lead on this -- but didn't really push it to the level of command.

Not really.

Except that, when I know what it is He wants me to do, that becomes, for me, a command. I did go off to the polls, and I did vote my conscience. I've thought about it ever since, and I am sure that all those "old and experienced" folks from that long ago DD list would be horrified at my lack of personal integrity. The simple truth is that I have the conscience of a slave...

It is an odd thing. I have an intellectual sort of discomfort with it. It seems contrary to the way I believe our political system ought to work. On the other hand, it seems perfectly reasonable and entirely in keeping with the nature of my life and our relationship. Perhaps there really is no way to reconcile the two realities. Maybe it all just is what it is. Thoughts?

swan

Awwwww... Gee Thanks!

Well, gosh! We got the nicest "wink" from Alex and Suze at American Spanking Society. Here's what they said about us:

"Raheretic, T and Swan are polyamorous spankos living in Ohio. Together they make up the Heron Clan.
Raheretic and T are married, and with Swan the three of them have a triad relationship.
They’re pretty open about their relationship, and they bring that honest and straight forward approach to their blog. Swan does a good deal of the writing, but Raheretic and T also share.
Lots of posts about spanking and BDSM, but there is a focus on day to day life and relationships too. Have to say that it might take some digging through the extensive archives to figure out what exactly is going on. There is a handy key-word tool on the sidebar that makes that easy enough to do though, and it’s certainly worth the effort.
We’ve only recently started reading ourselves, but we’re definitely enjoying ourselves. Excellent blog that is well worth checking out."

Wow! What a wonderful affirmation -- especially coming from a couple of people who've been around this environment and writing great blogs for as long as I can remember. One of the primary reasons that I was instructed to begin writing a blog in the very beginning was to create connections and form friendships and a supportive network of like-minded people who could become companions for me and for us as we live the lifestyle. This is yet another wonderful bit of evidence for the reality and extent of that community we dreamed about so many years ago...

Thank you so much, Alex and Suze!

swan (writing for the whole Clan)

Apocalypse

One of my favorite movies is The Princess Bride. I remember seeing it for the first time, when my children were in elementary school. They fell in love with it, and we saw it over and over and over through their adolescent years. It was and is a "feel good" movie with just enough wicked humor to engage all of us at whatever age we were each time we encountered it.

There is one line from the movie that resonates for me -- probably because of my love for words and language and meaning. The character that Wallace Shawn plays, keeps exclaiming, "Inconceivable!" each time something happens that runs contrary to his plans and assumptions. Finally, the Spaniard, played by Mandy Patinkin, responds: "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it does."

I've been pondering the word "apocalypse" in the last few days. It is a word that, in my experience, has religious connotations, and is particularly evocative of a sort of rigidly evangelical, and even end-times focused sort of theology. As such, it has always had a sort of "creepy" feel to it for me. But then I stumbled over a bit of writing that indicated that the word, in its original Greek, referred to a lifting of the veil or a revealing of a mystery. Apocalypse (Greek: Ἀποκάλυψις Apokálypsis; "lifting of the veil") is a term applied to the disclosure to certain privileged persons of something hidden from the majority of humankind. Apocalypse, is a revelation of hidden things. Apocalyptic literature is regarded as a specific literary genre and has specific characteristics. It is concerned with dreams or visions, and the experience of the one who receives the vision is usually prominent and spectacular. The mysteries, revealed in the vision, are often foreshadowed by preliminary events. Apocalyptic literature is powerfully focused on the personal experience of the seer.

There it is -- that moment when we discover that a piece of the language doesn't mean exactly what we thought it did. For me, that sent me off into a, perhaps predictably, kinky thought stream...

I'll explain.

For me, the journey from the "vanilla" life I led, through all the years of my marriage, into the life I have chosen and embraced in these last years was truly, and precisely, a lifting of a veil and a revealing of mysteries. The transition was about agreeing to see clearly and experience deeply the things that were actually true about me and about my life and my world. What I had only dreamed about for decades, I began to experience in actuality, and that shift was full of power and spectacular events. I became the dreamer and the seer of a reality only imagined prior to that apocalyptic change. It is true that there were those who had insights into the mysteries that I would encounter, but my experience of each new revelation was absoluely pristine and paramount to my coming to understand the truth of it all. That has, over time, come to feel like a gift and a privelege -- something granted to just a few, and so I am coming to see my life and my "kink" as wondrously and marvelously "apocalyptic."

swan

Dealing with the "Haints"

It seems to me that it is appropriate, as we come to the end of the month of October, and Halloween approaches, to deal with the ghosts that hover around the edges of our lives and scare the willies out of me -- even if they don't seem to spook anyone else particularly. In the folklore of the backwoods and hill country of America, these ghosts are sometimes called, coloquially, "haints." Tonight, it seems that I've had a wild and wooly weekend that has been full of the work of running off the haints of my world.

Friday evening was the beginning of that process. I did meet my mother for drinks and dinner. It turns out that "The Princess Pat" has turned into a crotchety old lady without the power to impact my life or make me miserable anymore. It isn't that she is less mean, but the years that I've been out of her clutches, living my life according to my own best lights, following the dreams that burn in my own heart, have freed me from her in powerful ways. I was interested to see how others (waiters, hotel desk clerks, the shuttle driver) respons to her cantankerousness -- they tend to react with a bit of surprise, but then just kind of back off, shrug and go on about their business. No one gets the least bit wrapped up in her foolishness, and I found myself in their ranks, seeing it but not feeling compelled to take it on personally or engage it at all. What an eye-opener! So, the first "haint" to fall this weekend was the powerful ghost of my mother's hold over my life and my happiness.

Another "haint" that has been terrorizing me over the last few months is the state of our clan finances. Some of you may recall that I am the one who has been given the task of maintaining our financial records, paying our bills, and balancing the family budget. It is not a task that for which I feel I have good skills -- not something that I am particularly well suited to, but it is part of the work that Master wants from me. He and T refer to me, jokingly, as "The Checkbook Nazi." I know it is supposed to be light-hearted and funny, but I feel the barbs implied in the appelation, and it does sting. Still, I try to do my level best to keep us balanced and in the black. It isn't easy. At least, for me it isn't. The state of the economy these days has pushed me harder and harder to keep up with everything. The price of gas and the price of food and the cost of clothing and the cost of heating our homes... it all has soared in the last year. Our credit card debt has grown, and try as I might, I just don't ever seem to make much of a dent in it all. For weeks now, I've been lying awake, late at night, worrying about how or whether we were going to "make it." I hate being the one to be continually saying, "we don't have the money for..." and I've been doing that a whole lot lately. On Friday, morning, as I was showering and preparing for work, the whole mess came to a head as the satellite TV (a bill I'd been putting off trying to find the cash to pay it) suddenly shut off -- at 6:30 in the morning. Now, there are very few things that are as much of a crisis as the cessation of TV in this house. He came to find me, and I was a hysterical mess as I told Him that there wasn't enough money and I didn't know what to do and I was so afraid... He managed to sort it all out and get the bill paid during the afternoon, and the TV came back on. I've spent hours and hours this weekend (with His guidance and support), analyzing our finances and building spreadsheets and making a rough budget. We think that we have a grip on things and a plan to move to a much more stable and solvent place. I feel a lot better tonight with that giant "monster under the bed" finally handled. Maybe tonight I'll sleep.

The third vanquished "haint" of this weekend was much, much easier. This was the first actual "weekend" we've had in three weeks. I've had school functions on Saturday for the last two weekends, and that has left us seriously short on the time that we so count on to reconnect and re-establish ourselves with each other. I really do try not to be needy and demanding and all of that, but as time goes by and we don't get the physical connection of BDSM play, I start to fuss and worry and "horriblize" about the foundations of our relationship. No amount of intellectual understanding of the realities and limitations can keep the scary thoughts at bay for long --and I begin to imagine that the issue isn't "time" but "boredom" and "longing for someone newer and more interesting." It is crazy, and I know it is crazy, but I am just like a small child with witches in the wardrobe. This morning, finally, we had time and enough sense of calm and personal well-being to really play, to really make love, to really just revel in the physical and emotional side of our love. It was fabulous and wonderful and hot, and I am much better balanced tonight because that shadow has been dispelled.

Oh yeah --and we voted (early) yesterday, so we've done what we can do to shape the future of our country and our world. This morning, as we watched General Colin Powell endorse Barack Obama for president, we literally vibrated with the wonder and the hopefulness and the excitement of it all. Could it be? Could it be that the "Headless Horesman" who has been sitting in the Oval Office these last eight years might finally be banished from the scene?

Altogether a very good weekend -- maybe it was a "Ghost Busters" sort of time?

swan

Huh?

Huh?

Sometimes life is just strange. Probably not for all the rest of you, but for me (and us) -- oh yeah!

We grilled some shark steaks for dinner a couple of nights ago. Actually, He grilled. Because He grills. It is His thing. Sometimes, depending on how tired He is, one of us is allowed to clean out the grill and set up the fire -- maybe even start the fire, but the actual cooking of whatever critter is His.

So, He grilled the shark and I made up some zucchini fritters and sauce to go with it. A nice enough dinner with a decent white wine. All good.

Except a few, leftover pieces of the shark weren't quite as done as He thought they should have been. Not a problem actually. We had plenty of perfectly done fish for the meal. The rest will become another meal; probably tonight. But, He just couldn't let it go -- those pieces of fish just HAD to go back on the grill. The only thing is, He wasn't into grilling anymore, so it was me who ended up dragging them back out to the patio to put them back on the fire.

Now, for reasons that are not entirely clear to me, I was having a moment. I don't know why. Just was. Pissy about the whole business, and pretty much everything in the whole universe. That sort of thing comes over me now and then -- a sense that it all just isn't fair or right or nice; the voice that whispers that I work all day too, and cook the meal and clean up the meal, and am just as gosh darned tired as everybody else -- so why me? Of course, the answer is that it is me because He says it is -- and I know that perfectly well. I just wish someone would tell the annoying voice!

Anyway, I gathered up the fish parts and hauled myself out and stuck them back on the grill and timed for the appropriate span of minutes and then pulled them back off the fire and back into the house. And then, I did the dishes and took out the trash and tidied up for the next morning. It wasn't that big a deal and it didn't take me all that long, but I am sure that I had that "face" thing going because He looked at me and asked me, "What's wrong, honey?"

And I really didn't have an answer for that exactly. I told Him that I was just having "a moment," and that I'd be fine -- just working it out. Of course, He knew exactly where my head was, and pursued it: "Are you upset about having to cook the fish?" Man, I hate it when He does that!

"Yes. I'm just feeling crabby about things. I'll get over it. Don't worry." All of that seems perfectly reasonable to me.

That's when He asked the question that just stopped me in my tracks: "If you didn't want to do it, why did you do it?"

?????????????????????????? Huh? I was just dumbstruck. Finally, looking at Him like He'd landed from another planet, I said (as calmly as I could manage), "Did you really just ask me that?"

Really. That seems like a question that just doesn't even have a reason to get asked. Why did I do it? Because I do what He asks me to do. Always. Even when I feel some sort of reaction or response or resistance -- I do it because that is who I am.

swan

Switching -- Memories

We used to switch, He and I.



When we first met, and began to play together, He occasionally found the idea of bottoming appealing. Part of that was, I imagine, the way He'd been trained when He first entered into His lifestyle explorations... and part of it seems very likely to have been that He was enough of a hedonist to get some pleasure out of the sort of intense sensations that bottoming can bring.



I was much newer into BDSM at that time, and not at all certain that I had it in me to play the role of "Top," but He wanted it, and so it became not a matter of my desires, but rather, His. In time, I became a fairly competent Top. Too, it was my goal, as Top, to please Him, and so I found my way into a style of playing that worked for us both.



It was His belief that the two roles, Top and bottom, were not really opposites of each other, but part of a continuum of experiences and orientations. He used to "lecture" me at some length about the similarities in traits required by partners on either side of the exchange. I don't think I ever really bought the "same only different" theory, but I did, eventually, find a sort of peace and pleasure in the switching that we shared.



For me, it fulfilled a couple of interesting experiential niches: First, it entailed a demanding set of technical skills. I enjoyed finding the mind space that allowed me to use implements with skill, create the experience I desired, and offer pleasure to my Partner. The other thing that switching did for me was to allow me to communicate with Him, very concretely, about my experiences as a bottom. Taking Him through a session, bringing Him the same kinds of pleasures and pains that I endured at His hands, gave me assurance that He knew what He was doing with me, and understood what I was experiencing.



We don't do it anymore. Whatever drove His desire to assume the bottom role from time to time has evaporated. I miss it. It was a connective bridge and a communicative vehicle that is simply no longer a part of our repertoire. He prefers the gentler touches of massage and scratching, and so the more intense forms of impact play are reserved for me alone. It isn't something that pulls at my mind steadily, but I am aware that there are times when I'd surely like to show Him just a bit of what I believe He's forgotten about His "toys."



Oh well. Good memories.



swan

My Mother

I've written about her before ... my mother.

She was the beauty that my father fell in love with and married.

She was bright and talented and vivacious -- and unbelivably mean.

I wanted her to love me -- for all the years of my youth, my adolescence, my young adulthood, my marriage. And I have wanted her to love me, and accept me through these last six years.

Sometimes wanting is a thing that simply is. Without any reason, and completely unresponsive to intellect and the reality of life.

My mother is who she is. She is who she has always been. She is.

I know all of that, and at the intellectual level, I understand and I have let her go. But part of me still wants my mother. Or at least -- a mother.

For most of the last few years, my mother and I have not spoken. What I know of her life and well-being, is conveyed to me by my children. Bits and pieces.

Occasionally, she or I will dial one another's phone number "accidentally," and an awkward sort of conversation will ensue. It doesn't go anywhere, and it leaves me shaken and unsatisfied. I don't know where it leaves her. I know so very little about her.

Today, my phone rang, and it was her. On caller ID. I didn't take the call -- let it go to voice mail. Feeling too vulnerable to talk with her...

The message? She is traveling to Cincinnati this week. Wonders if I'd like to "get together."

NO!

I don't.

I dropped the phone as if it were a poisonous snake. Took awhile to get to the calling back.

Felt just sick.

Yep.

In town on Tuesday evening. For a conference/reunion of the military group that "her guy" served with in Korea. Will be here through Sunday next week.

I asked her about the "schedule" for their time here, and it seems that, perhaps Friday, there might be a bit of time where we could meet for dinner.

Maybe I can do that.

I don't feel like I am sturdy enough -- or angry enough -- or mean enough to say "no."

The question is do I go "on my own," or do WE go together?

I believe that there is absolutely nothing to be gained by putting us all in line for her wickedness, and I have no illusion that she will be civilized under those circumstances.

She is 80. Nothing will be gained or changed at this stage.

So.

Friday.

Dinner.

Done.

I still want my mom.

swan

The Word "Polyamory"

One of my favorite authors is Lewis Thomas -- "Lives of a Cell," and "Late Night Thoughts on Listening to Mahler's Ninth." I've always been fascinated by the writing that he does on the origins and tracks of human language. There is a frustrated linguist in my soul -- I love it when we track human language to its roots and discover what our "language making" behavior tells us about who we are.

You've been warned. This is one of those "intellectual" posts. Decide accordingly.

I have been thinking about the genesis of the word "polyamory." We use it to describe that part of our relationship dynamic which is, by definition, not monogamous. We often cite the "definition" of the word as -- a coined term that combines the Greek "poly" meaning "many,"and the Latin "amour" meaning "love." Within that somewhat superficial, throw-away definition, polyamory means "many loves." Or something like that.

So... my interest in the evolution of language took me to this site where the origins of the word are described and explained. All of that is interesting, but I just keep feeling like there is something deeper to the practice of living polyamorously. Really. We do this, and it just has to have something more than that business of "many loves" (which is exactly what it says it is) --sort of...

Where? Where is the language link that gives me the depth of awareness and understanding that I am hungering after?

More searching for the etymology of the parts of this "made up" word, gave me these bits of information:

poly- combining form meaning "many, much," from Greek poly-, combining form of polys "much;" Sanskrit: purvi "much," prayah "mostly;" Old Persian: paru "much;" Greek plethos "people, multitude, great number," pleres "full," polys "much, plenty," ploutos "wealth," plethein "be full;" Lithuanian: pilus "full, abundant;"

amour-- Function: noun; Etymology: Middle English, "love, affection;" from Latin, from amare "to love": a usually illicit love affair

Alright, now this is starting to get a little more interesting. I like the sense that is conveyed by words like "abundant," and I am intrigued by the fact that, at its roots, polyamory is, somehow, tinged with the echoes of "illicit love."

Looking further -- I wonder about the roots of "abundant" and "illicit." Check it out:

abundant, adjective: very plentiful; more than sufficient; ample; well-supplied; rich (in something)

illicit, adjective: from French illicite (14c.), from Latin, illicitus "not allowed, unlawful, illegal."

Thinking about that. What if, when we talked about polyamory, we said that it was (at least currently): Not allowed and illegal; a way of loving that brings a sense of being sufficiently, amply, plentifully connected in intimate relationships which give one a rich, well-supplied life?

Not "more love." Instead, "abundant love." With awareness that we are among those who would choose an "illicit, illegal, unlawful" life if it gave us joy and rich relationships. I like the settledness of that -- less of a tinge of poly-fuckery, and more of an awareness of having what is "sufficient."

Polyamory.

swan

Shadows

A friend was telling me of spending time with a small child who had just become aware of his shadow.

Lovely image.

I was caught by the notion that there is some of that to WIITWD... seeing that shadow, and becoming engaged with it; chasing it and dancing with it in the same simple sense of wonderment that we might have had as a small child.

Because.

Coming to know our shadow is about coming to know ourselves.

In the most literal sense, shadows strip away all the externals and show us our own solid outlines -- without the frills and dazzlements. In shadow, we are two-dimensional. There is no "behind," and no "in-front." There is no "face." While shadows eliminate detail, they also eliminate hiddeness.

Most of us, if we are even a bit introspective, understand that there is something of the shadow to our natures as well. There are depths of our psyches/spirits/souls which do not come to light for us emotionally unless we choose to deliberately embrace the darkness that is ours. Whatever makes up that "shadow" interior -- secrets, fears, greed, pettiness, dreams, shames -- there is no living as a whole and balanced human without seeking out and making those parts of us welcome. It is, in my view, precisely that exploration of the dark within us that is facilitated by strong BDSM partnerships. Whether we are dominant or submissive, the pairing that BDSM creates can give us a companion who agrees to consciously and deliberately journey into our personal depths and darkest corners.

Shadow may even have spirit connotations for some of us. Some cultures understand an unattached or unattended shadow to be the manifestation of a ghost -- earlier generations called them shades. The belief is that the shadow represents some remnant of a life that has been unable to end for some reason. Other's might believe that shadows are evidence of God's power or presence around an individual -- hence shadows are the darker half of halos.

A friend stumbled into my "shadow cupboard" recently. It's a place where I write just for me, and where no one is supposed to look. Except me. I started doing that writing as an alternative to psychotherapy aabout a year ago. There, I pour out the fears and the resentments and the doubts and the sorrows that come and go from time to time. Because, there are times when I am not as solid or as serene as people sometimes think "slaves" are supposed to be. Perhaps other people get to that "life is wonderful all the time" place, but I don't have a map that takes me there. I get pissy and scared. For a long time, I felt like that part of who I am was shameful or somehow bad. I tried to repress those feelings -- tried to tell myself that the path to peace was to try and "kill" those feelings. Not acknowledging and embracing my "darker" places simply made me crazy. And spending precious time and resources with any of the "mental health professionals" that I've managed to link up with has seemed a colossal waste. So, upon occasion, I take myself off to my "cupboard" and I take out and examine whatever darkness is within me and upon me. I spend time feeling what I feel. I write what I need to write. I accept that part of who I am, put whatever it is in a safe place, and then I move on. For me, that works. I find that I visit that place less and less frequently. It abides in stillness and quiet for the most part, and I go through my days knowing it is there, but not burdened by it any longer.

Perhaps our very young children demonstrate something important for all of us -- the shadow is us. It is neither good nor bad; it simply is, and when we learn to dance with our shadows, we become more fully alive and more honestly human.

swan

From a Friend

A friend sent me these song lyrics over the weekend (Thanks, Tangerine!):

Without words

I use my tongue to tell the tale of us

Tracing your shadowscape

Kneeling before you

my eyes feast upon your masculinity and

All its divinity and

I praise you

Because all of that is for me

Jose Nunez ~~ Bilingual

In her note, my friend commented that she thought that perhaps, given the poly and M/s nature of our relatedness, these lyrics weren't entirely applicable, but that somehow, she was reminded of Master and I in the reading of them. So, I went back and spent time re-reading and thinking about them. I can see her point. There is a powerful undercurrent of "possession" to these passionate lyrics. There is the absolute certainty that the object of the song is "for" the singer, entirely. The fire and the heat that comes from the words is only partly in the purely sensual appreciation of the "other," it arises equally from the way the two lives are seen to entwine with one another to the exclusion of all else.

Surely, that is contrary to the way that most poly people see their way of relating. Surely, it is inappropriate for a slave to have the sense that Master "belongs" to her. There is a decidedly vanilla set of thought patterns here. Nodding...

But the words DO speak to me, and I believe they DO speak about the kind of powerful and passionate connection we share.

I think it is a fallacy to insist that poly loving needs to somehow be detached loving. That intellectual trap is very easy to fall into as one begins to explore the dynamics of loving polyamorously: "if I am going to love more than one, and if my lover is going to love others, then better (and emotionally easier) that I not invest fully in the whole business." Too often, under that set of assumptions, poly loving becomes fragmented and compartmentalized with lovers reserving bits and pieces of themselves and their lives for the various partners -- never really leaping fully into an all-for-all relationship mode. Doing that results in patchwork quilt relationship webs and piecemeal love matches where no one ever gives or receives the whole that is potential. It doesn't have to be that way if we really believe what we say about "more love makes more love." It does require great courage...

In the same vein, there is, among people within the BDSM community, the pervasive belief that in power-based relationships, the "bottom" partner has no ownership interest in their beloved. I understand that there are relationships that are modeled on power dynamics without the emotional burden of affection or love, but they are, in my limited experience, in an extreme numerical minority. Most of us, love simultaneously and congruently with our power exchange orientation. It is one thing -- a whole fabric from which we fashion unique and powerful relationships. My slave self strives to be wholly at His service, even as my lover self rejoices in the sheer wonder of His being "mine." Admittedly, He is "mine" because He dwells in my heart and my head in such a way that He could never be separated from the reality of who I am. It is, of course, a different sort of "having" than His ownership of me, but no less real or valid for all of that.


Mostly, these words speak to me of what it is to love passionately, completely, and joyfully with the whole of one's being. It is for us to celebrate the great gift of loving and being loved in all the ways that can manifest. It is an awesome, simple, human-animal thing to do: to become fully immersed in the present reality of the one we love, and to engage fully in all the sensory, emotional, intellectual, spiritual delights that can come from the encounter.

swan

Religulous -- The Movie

We went, Sunday afternoon, to see Bill Maher's new movie, "Religulous." It was a bit of a departure for us since we almost always go to movies which around here are referred to as "chick flicks" (and no, it probably doesn't mean what you think it means).

Maher's movie was of interest for entirely different reasons, just as "Fahrenheit 9/11," and "An Inconvenient Truth" were a few years back. He and we were interested and intrigued by the intellectual premise of this film, and it did not disappoint. It was both thought provoking and wickedly funny.

It is creating a bit of a stir among the "churched," but not nearly as much as I might have expected. I wonder about that. Is there just so much else going on that the religious zealots can't find enough time and energy to go picket theaters? Interesting.

Whatever. Thinking people will find plenty to chew on in this piece. The simple question that pervades it is really something like: "Do you really believe that? Really?"

swan

Mirror

M:e wrote eloquently about the mirroring that comes to us from those we relate to -- the power that we can get from being able to see ourselves reflected in the responses and reactions of those who are closest to us in life. It is a powerful post and I was reminded of the power that mirrors have within the practice of feng shui. I wrote some of my thinking in this comment to her post:


I am especially struck by the metaphor of the mirror. We do, all of us, respond on many levels to what is reflected to us from our surroundings, our communities, our intimate friends and relationships.
As I contemplated this notion, I got drawn back to the ideas that come from feng shui about the use of mirrors to direct and reflect and draw energy. Hence, mirrors can open up and brighten a closed or dark space. Mirrors, well used, can enliven a space and create warmth and a deep sense of well-being. Feng shui teaches that we ought to strive to use mirrors that reflect a true and whole image — small, fractured, or multiple partial images can be disturbing and unhealthy. Too, we ought to be mindful of the energy power of our mirrors; keeping them out of the spaces where we seek to be quiet and rested, and reserving them for the parts of our lives where it is good to have energy and power injected.
I think that our choices to enter into power-exchange is very like choosing to use mirrors consciously. I can learn to see myself clearly, to draw energy from my deliberated decisions to live in a particular fashion, to find both quiet and stimulation in the truthful reflection of this most intimate mirroring.

One other thing, that I didn't think of as I was writing that bit, but that seems to also be true of this "mirroring" effect of relationships is this: we ALL are mirrors for one another. So, even as I learn and grow from Master's mirroring of me, He may receive energy and warmth and brightness from what I mirror back to Him. As slave, as partner, as lover, it is essential that I remember to reflect with honesty and love, so that He too, may be enriched by the reflection from me to Him.

swan

Warrior Slave?

One of my favorite children's books, one which I read over and over and over again to my own two children, is "Old Turtle." It is a lovely, softly colored story about a world-wide discussion of the "nature of god:"

"Long ago, an argument arose between mountains and rivers, stars and ants, lions and bears on the nature of God. A terrible cacophony of quarreling voices rang out until wise Old Turtle quelled the din, explaining that ``God is all that we dream of, and all that we seek. . .all that we come from and all that we can find.''

In the last few days, I've been reading a sort of quiet, blog-based conversation that reminds me of the Old Turtle story in some sort of sideways fashion. I'm really not sure that the connection here is very solid, but it is in my head, so humor me.

As far as I can tell, the beginning is a piece written by i999shadow on Fetlife, entitled “She/he needs me, she/he needs me not”:

On the one hand, there is the strong belief in the slave/sub that is independent, confident, in control, has it all together, can handle anything, will take care of the partner and all their stuff, and works for a living. We sometimes refer to them as the ‘warrior slave’.
On the other hand, there is the needy, ‘fallen sparrow’ slave/sub that has issues and needs someone to straighten out their stuff, put them on track, keep their issues under control, take care of them as they take care of their partner, and cannot live WELL without someone in control. We often call them ‘trainwrecks’.
...Every now and then, this little voice in the back of my head says “Well HELL…. WHY would anyone that is happy, stable, financially secure, baggage free, totally in control, competent and stable need to have a TPE– and what the hell would the dominant find to control fer chrissakes??? Outside of playtime, what would that bottom/sub/slave have to turn over– and why would any top/dom/etc. WANT them to turn it over– after all, they are handling it just fine as it is, thank-you-very-much.

Responding, or perhaps more accurately, expanding on that thought-stream, kaya wrote:

I just keep thinking that some of these seemingly innocent, or even silly, protocols or routines, things that are generally prevalent during the early stages of M/s but that tend to disappear over time are far more important than one gives them credit for...I’m reminded by His words and His tone of why I am doing it and what my place is in this relationship, which is immensely more satisfying and serves to keep this relationship from degenerating into your standard vanilla marriage...It’s very difficult to maintain the expectations and headspace of property, servant, fuckdoll, when the treatment implies friend, wife and lover...What is there to control if I’m doing it all on my own? If I no longer need direction or commands or reminders - if I’m handling it all just fine

Then, morningstar picked up the thread and continued the conversation:

i am most definitely a "warrior slave" sort...... i am capable.. self sufficient.. independent.. confident... BUT that does not mean i don't want a TPE...What does the dominant get to control.. well ME of course...how much fun is it to control someone who is weak and pitiful and extremely needy??? Isn't there some challenge to be found in the conquering the mighty??BUT...once a warrior slave has been "captured" ...then they must be reminded of their captivity. They must feel their chains.. their bonds .. otherwise ...they become restless and impatient..... and a bit angry at the world...don't submissives - even well trained.. follow the rules all the time submissives... need some validation that what they are doing they are doing for a reason...There are times that i feel like the perfect 'wife' .. i cook .. i clean.. i iron .. i take care of my "man".......... ...am i a good wife or a good slave...Maybe we warrior slaves need...to know that we are still very much the slave in this relationship

I've just been captured by the language of it all. Warrior slave vs. sparrow slave... The imagery is so compelling. Except I just can't make it work for me.

I am familiar with that warrior mode. I spent years and years and years -- nearly three decades -- as the warrior woman. Armored and armed, I faced the world with ferocious determination, knowing that it really was all up to me every single day. I went out into the world, and I kicked butt and took names. I climbed the corporate ladder over the backs of my contemporaries and compatriots, and I never ever looked back or down. I worked my way into the halls of the powerful and mighty, and I learned to play the games, and I knew that I needed to spend every moment on watch for the one who would climb over me. I lost my soul and I lost my youth and I lost my heart in all of that battling. I "won" in the terms used by those who play that game, but I still don't know what it was that I earned as the prize.

One day, after years of fighting, I put that all aside and began to search for the path that would bring me back home to my essential self. I came to understand that living life protected and armed against being touched was not living at all. Moving from "warrior" to slave was, for me a path of softening and learning to bend and believe in someone else besides myself. For me, it was not about giving up my talents, my gifts, my abilities, or may personal assets. For me, it was about putting those treasures into service in some bigger sense. I did not trade my warrior persona for a "broken" or "helpless" persona. I'll never be a sparrow.

In becoming slave; in acquiring the mantle of slave, I became more fully the woman that I was born and destined to be. I've learned and accepted the truth of who I am. I remain strong and I remain capable. I still go out into the world each day to face whatever comes to me, but I do that knowing that I am never all by myself, never completely on my own. That knowledge gives me a measure of security and safety. It is alright, now, to be soft and vulnerable.

Having said all of that, I can understand the "need" and the "desire" that comes in those times when we are, for whatever reason, left undirected and un-supervised. I've been there. I've dropped into that grumpy, pouty, angry spot in my head. It leaves space open for questions to arise, and that is disquieting. I think kaya talked about balance. How much nominal "independence" can a slave handle before feeling as if they are on a tight-wire strung above a deep chasm?

For us, it is a function of the dynamic nature of our power-based relating. The energy that we hold between us ebbs and flows. It hums and vibrates in harmony with our own personal fields. We sometimes resonate very closely with each other, and then there are times when we seem to clash and rattle like lightning bolts from cloud to cloud. That is not about "neglect" or anything so dreadful as a "reversion to vanilla loving." It is about being human in a busy and many-faceted world. We don't, either of us, stay in the same "space" from day to day. Neither does our relationship. We grow and change and cope and shine as we can and as we will.

I think, mostly, each of us does the best we can. He watches me more carefully than I sometimes give Him credit for. I self-monitor and self-maintain in ways that He sometimes doesn't notice (isn't that the idea?). For the most part we nurture a connection that remains wondrous and strong and way better than anything either of us managed to achieve in previous relationships. We are good mostly, and we are here together. We'll continue to learn and establish the boundaries and maintain the balance going forward. It is the nature of loving in real terms and real time.

swan

Dancin' -- Reprise

We did go, last night, for the big Dance party put on by Master's agency. Of course we did. And, I'm here to report that it was a huge success -- beyond any of our expectations. It was one heck of a party, and a wonderfully fun gathering of the community.

Here we are all dressed to go... Not our "usual" mode!

The "one" sort of challenging part of this particular "dress up" event was that my dress showed the cutting -- leaving very little to the imagination. That's a bit of new territory for us. We've scrupulously kept that evidence of our relatedness under wraps whenever we are in a situation where our "private" lives intersect with Master's professional life. I do have other things that can be worn for dress occasions that aren't so revealing, but I really wanted to wear this, and I've begun to weary of hiding. Ultimately, as we considered the possibilities, we came to the conclusion that it was likely no one would pay any attention, and that if anyone did notice, I could simply tell them that the initials are my former husband's -- with the last initial simply not visible under the dress. As it turned out, only one person asked, and she was not someone that we'll likely ever encounter again.

So. A night out and a night "out."

swan

Fear and Risk

Jojo raised an important question in a comment left on the "I am in Love " post:

I have often wondered if you are fearful of posting pictures of yourself online. I like seeing your happy family. Yet I fear some ignorant and judgemental people will somehow identify you through this blog and use it to threaten your job. I also understand not wanting to live your life in the shadows and being afraid to express who you are. Do you ever worry about kids or parents finding your blog

Where does one begin to respond to a concern that is so deeply felt and so kindly expressed? There is plenty to say about this particular issue.

If the question is, "Are you afraid?" then the answer is, "yes." There are real risks to being "out" in any degree about a lifestyle that is outside the social norms in our society. We live there on at least two counts: polyamory and BDSM. In fact, I doubt very much that even remaining fully "closeted" about alternative lifestyle choices is going to provide what might be considered some sort of "fool-proof" guarantee of safety. The risk cannot be eliminated. Our lives can, and occasionally do, attract attention -- and sometimes our reality scares people who do not understand. Add to that the often significant contingent of people who just DO NOT APPROVE, and it is pretty easy to begin to see "enemies" and "threats" everywhere. Any reasonable person might worry under those circumstances, and we do.

The only way to be "safe" from those who might seek to do some sort of damage if they become angry, resentful, or spiteful is to simply not live in the way that we do. If there is no perceived difference between "us" and "them," then there is no real basis for anyone to try to attack us.

So, we could pretend; pretend to be "normal;" pretend to not be who we are with each other or in the world. There's a whole other level of harm and damage to making that choice. Surely the loss of our lives together would be a huge destructive force for us. We would be damaged if we felt ourselves forced to withdraw from the community of like-minded people with whom we've connected through this and other media.

So, yes there's risk, and the potential for real harm -- and so there is a level of fear. We choose not to be driven by that. We choose to believe that the majority of people are good and decent. We choose to hope that even those who might disagree with our choices will not become overtly hostile or behave in ways that are deliberately malicious. We are conscious of the possibilities, and we try to take care not to let our "alternative" lifestyle writing and publications cross over into our "other" work and lives. It isn't perfect, but it is the balance that we strike.

Mostly, we try to be mindful but not "captured" by the worst possibilities. For us, the tag line that Master uses (Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.) is not just some pretty, clever throwaway bit. It really is the vision that is at the core of our family. We are not naive about the possibilities for trouble, but we are also not so fixated on the negative possibilities that we lose sight of the great benefits we've gained by daring to live as we believe we were meant to live.

swan