Dreams

My alarm clock goes off at 5:30AM on school mornings. So this morning, I was still sound asleep when the phone rang at 5:02 with a call from the person who is above me on the school phone chain -- no school today due to snow here in Cincinnati. I made my own calls to forward the phone chain, and snuggled back into the warmth of His arms, under the heavy wool of the Hudson Bay blanket. Soon, I was back sleeping and dreaming ... a dream that was so clear and so sweet and so simple:

I walked across the room, our bedroom, in the quiet morning darkness -- padding softly across the carpet, feeling the cool morning air on my naked skin. He lay sleeping in the bed behind me. Just as I was about to pass through the door, and out of the room, He spoke from the darkness behind me, His voice quiet and very calm: "Please bring me the paddle."

In the magical way of dreams, the Hanson birch paddle was there in my hands as I turned and offered it to Him. "Yes, Sir..."

That was it. Just a snippet, clear and evocative. Nothing much really ... except that I have quit dreaming of any of that, and so that little gem assured me that my subconcious self is still there, still doing the work of living this life.

swan

Lies

Unless you've been living under the proverbial rock for the last week or so, you've gotten wind of the "dust up" here in our little blogging neighborhood over LIES put out by some, and the varying reactions to that reality across the community.

I don't personally know how this particular blowup came to be, I just know that there are people that we thought we knew something about who turned out to be not quite as advertised. So these folks can be added to the list which already includes such luminaries as Vickie Blue, Robin Whittle (of Fondly and Firmly), and Patty (of Creative Spanked Wench/Wife). Likely there have been others over the years who misled and deceived -- and pehaps just vanished without most of us ever being any the wiser. Surely, our family got suckered by one such on a very personal level once upon a time. It hurts.

But let's face it -- people lie. They do. We do. In big and small ways, and for a thousand different reasons, the human animal practices deception. People lie to get ahead, to avoid consequences, to seem more "whatever" to their fellows, to protect themselves, to gain power and control, to create the potential for relationship, to maintain ongoing relationship, and on and on and on. We lie by omission and by commission. We don't like it when we are duped by a liar, and I imagine most of us want to be thought of has people of honesty and integrity, but if we are truthful with ourselves, we can almost all point to times when we have been less than open, honest, and straightforward with others.

I don't like being lied to. It feels icky. It makes me question all sorts of things that I want to have be bedrock solid. And, I know that there are places, even with the ones I love best, where the truth gets "bent" or "shaded" or simply is withheld. I do it, and I know they do it too. If I want to climb up on my soap box and hold forth about how dishonesty is a cancer on our relationship and destroys trust and makes it impossible to really BELIEVE in anything, then I'd probably better be real sure that I am without blame (NOT), and I'd better be sure that what I'll gain by standing on principle on this is worth more than what I'll throw away by being an unbending prig.

So. I don't know all the nuances of this latest firestorm of lies and recriminations. I'm surely disappointed. I am not however ready to condemn anyone to the outer darkness. It's a reminder of the realities of our lives together. Not a nice one. Still, understanding that we are all human and all capable of falling short, I can go on.

swan

Oh Canada...

We have, for a good long while, believed that it might be that people like us, in unconventional families, practicing poly, could look northward to Canada for some sort of refuge from the narrow-minded bigotry that pervades the culture here in the U.S. It seems we may have been very, very wrong. Apparently, according to a post over at Polyamorous Percolations, there is some pretty virulent legal prosecution of polygamists and anyone else that looks even remotely related to polygamy -- all going on in Canada. Here's the text of the Canadian legal code that is being used to prosecute members of a small Mormon polygamist sect:


Section 293 of Canada's Criminal Code:
(1) Every one who

(a) practices or enters into or in any manner agrees or consents to practice or enter into
(i) any form of polygamy, or
(ii) any kind of conjugal union with more than one person at the same time, whether or not it is by law recognized as a binding form of marriage, or

(b) celebrates, assists or is a party to a rite, ceremony, contract or consent that purports to sanction a relationship mentioned in subparagraph (a)(i) or (ii), is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding five years.

Evidence in case of polygamy

(2) Where an accused is charged with an offence under this section, no averment or proof of the method by which the alleged relationship was entered into, agreed to or consented to is necessary in the indictment or on the trial of the accused, nor is it necessary on the trial to prove that the persons who are alleged to have entered into the relationship had or intended to have sexual intercourse.

Sigh. No refuge there.

swan

It's a Boy!

I am entirely sure that there are a fair number of people who will be more than happy when May comes and goes and they don't have to read anymore posts here about my coming grandbaby, and I can absolutely understand that sentiment. I'm trying not to be totally obnoxious about it, and I really know that most people don't come here to read about my excitement over this little peanut, but for those of you who willing to play along with "Granny," here's the very first ultrasound picture of Baby Zander. Yes -- the child is to be named Alexander and then called (we think) "Zander." Tah Dah! It's a boy! Did I mention that my sister-heart is already buying adorable baby onesies for the little dude. The one that I have lying here -- ready to send says, "Lock Up Your Daughters." We're only just a little bit nuts about this...

swan

Toy Collection Report #8

It isn't just "spanking"with us. Spanking is sex and intimacy and connection and adventure and joy and love and life between us. There was a time when I came to the beginning of a session with eagerness and anticipation and a hunger that seemed as if it might never be satisfied. Those days seem long gone. I am seldom eager anymore, and I usually anticipate that sessions will be difficult and painful. The hunger, however, remains. As complicated as our SM has become, we remain partners and lovers -- matched as well as it is possible for two people to be. He is every bit the Man that I fell in love with, came to from across the continent, and gave my whole self to almost seven years ago...

This morning, I learned again, what it is to be fully and utterly wrapped up in His power.

Our session began with some difficulty. The various health issues that confront us daily make the simple logistics of playing seem daunting. What seems to work best for Master, at present, is to have me face down over the side of the bed, but it is a position that I find uncomfortable --it hurts my knees and my ankles, and there's nothing for me to hold on to. Still, it was the option that seemed best, and so I got myself into position, expecting nothing much except to (hopefully) hold on and get through it without disappointing.

He began somewhat gently, with some hand spanking and then a light weight strap. I was feeling very emotional, but was determined not to give in to the sobbing misery that sometimes overtakes me during a session. I know that my seeming miserable can cause Him to decide to quit before He really is ready.

He began to stroke me with a knife blade, and I found myself following the strokes and sinking into the rhythm as my breathing began to calm. The hairbrush paddle was next I think, and somehow, it didn't take me to the place where I was shrieking "NO!" inside my mind. At one point He said something about it not breaking bones when He used it "THIS" way, and all I could think was -- "Wow! He did read that post..." Whatever, I found myself able to encounter the sensations without becoming totally panicked by it all.

There was some other strap -- sharp and biting, and then He finished with the lexan paddle. Just as I found myself beginning to drop over the edge toward subspace, it was over with and He was presenting me with the paddle to kiss -- the end of the session. I was befuddled -- over the edge just a bit, and without the words to say, "No ... let's go on just a bit more."

But He knew it. Saw it. Understood me in that instant better than I understood myself. I heard Him asking, "Did I stop too soon? Do you want more?" Through the fuzz and fog, I heard the words, and then had to look over them and turn them around in my mind and contemplate them and then figure out what to do about all of that. By that time, He'd decided... and on we went.

I don't remember exactly how it all went from that point. It was a Dominant and sadist, turned lose with a loopy submissive. I think He used the dressage whip, and the hairbrush paddle, and maybe a cane. I know I was sort of there, aware, but simply not in the same physical space as I was early on.

Then, in the middle of all that whipping and paddling and caning, He stopped and began toplay with my cunt. It always catches me off guard, and I think I gasped, but then I was completely lost to His whims and His intent. I don't know how long He played with me ... a couple of rocking orgasms, and the voice in my head beginning to beg, "no more... no more..." before He was done with me and I was entirely limp in His arms.

That was when He suggested a "strapping for dessert." It registered in my stupid brain that He meant THE STRAP -- the one that we usually call "the punishment strap," but I was so spacey and so happy and so sure that He had me completely in His vision, that I was more than ready to agree. That was perhaps foolhardy... I got back into position, and He laid into me with the strap. It was harsh and heavy and staggeringly painful. My head cleared very quickly as I struggled to just stay put -- and then it was over. He gathered me up, sobbing, in His arms, rocked me and crooned to me as I settled back down.

We rode together to His release, and finished lying curled up together, spent and jubilant in our private world where, for that small bit of time, everything was completely perfect.

swan

Polyamory Observations #12

I sometimes feel like a huge fraud because I am a person who lives in a polyamorous family, who loves what polyamory has offered me, and who is still scared witless about what polyamory requires.


I struggle with the fundamental emotional maturity that is required in order to get to compersion, and compersion is the heart and soul of making polyamory work. Generally, if you go looking for a definition of the word, you find definitions like this:


"a term used by practitioners of polyamory to describe the experience of taking pleasure when one's partner is with another person. It was originally coined by the Kerista Commune in San Francisco (or possibly by the ZEGG community in Germany) which practiced polyfidelity, and has since been adopted throughout the culture of polyamory. The term is often expressed as "the opposite of jealousy."


I seem to be far more likely to feel jealous than to feel joyful for my partner's joy in another, and then I generally feel guilty and ashamed because I have that response. Intellectually, I understand that our love is solid, and I know I shouldn't see every new "interest" as a threat, but my emotions still flare whenever I am confronted with the reality, or even the shadow of possibility. Given time, I usually work my way through that, but it is an intense, uncomfortable, and exhausting business, and I really wish I could just avoid the whole dance.

That's why I spend a fair amount of time looking around for resources and materials that speak to the whole notion of compersion in the context of polyamory. That searching has borne fruit this time, in an amazing find. I came across a series of essays, written by Eric Francis at Planet Waves, Inc. Beginning with an essay entitled It's Not About Sex, It's About Self, the series speaks directly to issues with jealousy and compersion. It is a huge intellectual leap from the drivel that one finds in books like "The Ethical Slut," and I am thrilled to find it. Francis looks at compersion and jealousy and speaks about both from a perspective that I've never seen anywhere else. His writing gets to some of the real "roots" of both jealousy and compersion. He sees those two responses as not "opposites," but reflections of what lies at the depths of relational health. I've "captured" bits and pieces from the various essays here. I'm not sure exactly what I can offer in addition to the elegant and eloquent work of Eric Francis. I offer the following tidbits as a beginning place for this exploration:



It's Not About Sex; It's About Self:
“Our relationship to sex and sexuality is our relationship to existence. If we feel good about our erotic experiences, needs and feelings, we tend to feel good about life. If we are bitter, if we don't get what we need, if we feel guilty or ashamed of our sexual feelings and experiences, that is most likely how we're going to feel about life.”

That seems so simple and obvious -- we are happiest and most centered when what we need is taken care of. How much easier and simpler it is to be generous when we dwell in abundance ourselves...

Touching the Goddess of Curiosity
If you asked most people what was the opposite of guilt, they would say innocence, but when do we actually feel innocent? How about this: the opposite of guilt is curiosity. Curiosity is the mind in an expanded state, ready to embrace what comes its way. Guilt is the mind in a contracted state, aware of how bad it feels or how wrong it is. Curiosity is the mind in an open state, welcoming reality into consciousness.

Open, curious, welcoming... I am wondering how it would feel to be so innocent that it would be safe to be open and curious about whatever might come to be?

The Problem of Self-Esteem
Both sanctioned forms of relationship, marriage or temporary promiscuity, imply that relationship is about property: in one case, property you keep, and in the other, property you dispose of.

In this I can sense a way to find a new bit of valuing in my relatedness. Ours isn't sanctioned in the traditional sense, and I really wonder if, in creating something entirely consensual and designed in the way we choose, we've affirmed ourselves better than we might have in something more mainstream. Does that make any kind of sense at all?

Compersion: the Only Way Out is In
Compersion is the complete acknowledgement of who a person is, in their entirety, as apart from you ... seeing a lover … in the full spectrum of their erotic reality presents a specific challenge, because it can quickly take us to the empty place where we are no longer necessary … It's as close to ego death … as we may safely approach … we are born into that emptiness, shorn of expectation, need, or the sense of loss involved with not being needed. Or, at the least, we recognize that we are needed because of the incomparable properties we possess. And in that space, we can actually exist. To offer another person your compersion is to offer them and yourself the autonomy necessary for each of us to be ourselves; and for love to be itself. It is the living expression that only truth is erotic.

I do recognize the "death" imagery of this, because that is the feeling that is almost always at the root of my jealous reactions -- that sense that I am no longer necessary simply because there is some other. I am working my way around the edges of the notion that I will always be necessary because I am unique in my own self, and therefore not "replaceable." Perhaps it is a sort of emotional and ego reincarnation that happens just as one enters into compersion; a recognition that we are, in our own right, erotic people.

There is so much here. I will likely read over and over, trying to learn at some deep level.

swan

About "Rules"

Not long ago, from out of the wilderness of the Internet, a message came up on one of my lists from a person who identified as a "Master." The message was titled "For Discussion and Comment," and consisted of a list of rules for would be submissives.

OK.

I won't even get into the content of this little bit of writing. In my view, the rules that were listed were contradictory at best, and illustrated a lack of self-awareness and personal character in their darker aspects.

But then, I suppose I'd have seen a lack regardless of WHAT was written there no matter what. The reason for that is simple: I think conversations begin with "hello." I think that the foundation for power-exchange is some sort of relationship that connects two human persons, and it is my belief that relationship is not defined by rules, but by the kind of knowing that grows when we spend a bit of time with one another.

When did we all get into such an all-fired hurry that we came to believe that basic interpersonal courtesies were superfluous and entirely unnecessary?

I "get it" that knowing who you are and what you want/need is a really important part of building successful relationships. I have no problem with identifying that you are dominant or submissive or sadistic or masochistic or switchy or poly -- or whatever collection of labels you believe describe your particular orientation. That's a very good thing. I just do not agree that being X, Y, or Z releases any of us from being human, and humans are social creatures. We are more than our sexual/erotic orientations -- hence the value of beginning at the beginning with one another.

I like "hello." I like coming to know who you are beyond the fact that you own a whip. I like knowing what makes you laugh, what makes you angry, what you believe in, what you will work for in the world. How is it that people, and perhaps especially submissive people, allow themselves to be "taken in" by someone with a fancy name and a list of rules -- and nothing at all to offer of substance? That just amazes me. If there is one place in the entire constellation of my relationships where I do not want to be connected to "an empty shirt," that would be inside of my power-based dynamic. It is never particularly easy to maintain this kind of relating, but I believe it would be nearly impossible with someone who had nothing much to offer but a list of rules.

swan

Toy Collection #8

Next on the tour of paddles is this one. It is the hairbrush paddle -- another of our Toybag Toys implements.

This is a paddle designed to look like the back of a fine wood hairbrush. It lacks only the bristles that would normally adorn its namesake. It is heavy and hard and creates a burning sensation that is very different from some of the lighter paddles in the collection.

Master keeps it close at hand, unlike some paddles that can "sink" to the bottom of the pile and go un-remembered for periods of time. This one seems to never ever disappear from view -- or use.

The biggest challenge, for me, with this particular paddle is that it is relatively heavy. It hits with a thud that makes me think that my bones are at risk. I doubt that is true, from a purely intellectual sense, but when this thing is pounding into my consciousness, it is very hard to consider the intellectual realities.

swan

This Year is Christmas

This is my little, homey Christmas tree. It went up just before Thanksgiving, way back in November -- and (minus the presents underneath) it is still up. That is because Master likes it that way. In a normal year, our Christmas trees stay up until after the Superbowl. That is, according to the One who makes these decisions, the official end of the Christmas season. Even then, the taking down of the Christmas tree makes Him sad...

Well, this is not shaping up to be a normal year.

We have just had our first consultation with the Bariatric Surgeon, and it seems we are proceeding with gastric bypass surgery for Master, AND, most likely, we will also see T enter into the program just a few weeks behind Him. This year, our household is going to make some major AFFIRMATIVE CHOICES about vastly improved health and well-being. We are holding onto one another, looking toward our future, and moving forward under the care of a man who seems to be a very good, caring, concerned, and open physician.

So, as I sit here this afternoon, in my quiet living room, looking at my little Christmas tree, I have made a "high-level executive" decision (understanding that slaves don't get to do that sort of thing -- so sue me). As of today, I am declaring that this entire year is Christmas in this family. Christmas makes Him happy, and I absolutely believe this will be the year that we give ourselves the gift of a happier and much longer future together...

The little tree is staying put. Right where it is. We'll light the lights as long as we need to -- until everyone is through the surgery, recovered, healthy, strong, and way lighter -- we'll keep the season shining. And if, friends, you want to join in the fun, you don't have to keep your tree up (or put it back up either). Just light a light in your hearts for our family. This Year is Christmas.

swan

Rick-a-Thon

This is another one of those "political" things, so if you aren't interested, just move on down your blog list...

Our house is still "bent out of shape" that the odious Rick Warren will be giving the invocation at the Obama inauguration. That said, here's an interesting twist that might make it just a little bit tolerable:

The organization "Driving Equality" is accepting pledges in what they have dubbed a Rick-a-Thon. For every second that he stands at the podium on inauguration day, Rick Warren will be raising money to help fund the fight for marriage equality in this country. You can pledge any amount you like. Every little bit helps.

Go make a contribution. Make a difference. Send a message.

swan

Intimidated

We are only a few weeks away from Winter Wickedness. The first weekend in February, we'll be heading off to spend the weekend with other kinky folks, and that has always been something we have looked forward to and enjoyed.

This time though, the impending weekend is looming and, I for one am just not looking forward to it. Everything I see and read about it makes me think that I've finally reached the point where I am just not "good" at the public scene thing anymore.

There are a very great many things that make me feel dreadfully old and over the hill these days, but as I read the many, many messages that people are posting about this event, I am more aware of that reality than usual.

I was already feeling woefully inadequate to the realities of playing in the dungeon just now -- painfully aware of how terribly wimpy I've become. Now, though, I am beyond feeling inadequate, and am entirely intimidated. All the bubbly, exuberant list messages back and forth about exotic and weird things that people are planning on doing are just making me shake my head. There was a raging debate over whether or not people could do needle play in the designated "medical" area, and then leave the needles in for the entirety of the event. There is, of course, great anticipation of spectactular suspension bondage. There is a whole group that is all a-twitter about anal fisting. Everyone is busy telling everyone else about the fact that they are "on Fetlife," and specifying where they might be found in that online community. Today, the craze seems to be purple duct tape.

That's all fine. Whatever fires your rockets, and all that... It's all good I'm sure.

Except that I am just wondering what ever happened to beat and get beaten? Because, that really is the core of our thing, and it seems that there is no place at all for our kind of BDSM. Really. It feels as if we are simply too old, and too old fashioned to sully the environs where such inventive and wildly "juicy" play will be going on. All that crude and primitive, caning and flogging and paddling just has no place in all this flash and glamor.

Blech.

Tonight, at the dinner table, when the subject came up, He said, "I don't even want to go. Let's just figure the money is gone, and stay home and enjoy the weekend..."

Yeah. Let's.

swan

Back to Common Ground

In the very beginning, Master and I felt sure that ours was a love that was "meant to be." We felt so entirely "well matched," that it was hard to imagine that we hadn't been linked with one another through all time. Those were heady feelings and blissful days. Lately, we've struggled more -- with our individual issues, and with one another.


It isn't that we aren't still incredibly, deeply, sometimes rapturously in love -- we are. It is just that we've not always connected at the same easy level we once did. Things have become more difficult and more complicated; and with all the issues we face between us, it is sometimes just easier to wander off into a safe cocoon and not try to hash it all out with one another. I know that I pull into myself, and I think that His response to that is to simply not push it. Probably, He just feels worn out trying to sort it all out with me sometimes.


So, when we do connect; when we do make it all magical, it is pretty amazingly wonderful. Saturday was like that...


I'd been ill on Friday, unable to go to school -- heck, almost unable to lift my head off the pillow: weak and wobbly and feverish and nauseated on top of it. I slept most of the day, and He spent His time feeling generally crummy and brooding all alone.


I was feeling better by the time Saturday morning rolled around, and He was interested in playing, but tentative. Partly, I imagine that was concern for my health, but largely, it was grounded in my recent whining about how I don't always like being spanked, and don't get much out of it. BDSM is complicated when you actually care about the person on the other end of the power-exchange!


He asked if it would be better if we just made love and He didn't spank me... I hate that idea -- it makes me sad and scared. I told Him -- "no -- don't stop spanking me." And so we began. He was very tentative at first; almost gentle. Our session started with some hand-spanking and some knife play and I could feel myself settling into a good head space. I heard Him breathe into my ear the words, "I want you so much!" It was as if a door opened in my mind and my spirit soared. To be wanted is much different than to be loved. Hearing that He wanted me worked to banish from my mind all the lovely, young, nubile, smiling spanking models. I was left with a rare and joyful sense of belonging and being in the right place.

Before He'd gone very far, before things had gotten horribly intense, He began to penetrate me digitally as I lay face down over my customary pillow. It took me by surprise and I gasped -- it doesn't happen very often that our sessions include play that is "sensual" or "sexual." As it went on, I became increasingly excited and just happy. I grunted and groaned and roared in a most un-ladylike fashion as my pleasure mounted.

When He'd had enough of teasing and pleasing me, He went right on with the SM play, and I was right there -- even achieving orgasm under the cane. We finished making love, rejoicing in our shared sexual satisfactions. And then, we simply snuggled together, enjoying the softness and warmth and connection that settled in between us.

It was very, very good to find our way back to the place that we share again.

swan

Medical Stuff

If you are a long-time, faithful follower of the stories of our clan, you may remember when Master got His new knee. We were, at that time, apprehensive but optimistic that the successful completion of that surgery, and the subsequent rehabilitation would make for a huge improvement in His quality of life. It hasn't quite worked out that way. The new knee is some better than the crummy knee that it replaced, but it is nowhere near as good as a healthy real knee would be, and there remains the other knee which was even worse to begin with and still needs to be replaced someday.


He has never, in spite of aggressive work to rehabilitate, ever been able to resume the kind of walking program that we were engaged in prior to His surgery. That has contributed to a continual, and steady battle with weight gain. Even though we rigorously control for sugars, carbohydrates, fats, and sodium, He has consistently lost that battle.


In the last year, He's been given additional medical diagnoses including severe spinal stenosis, meuralgia parasthenia (a neuropathy that creates pain and burning in His thigh), and elevated liver enzymes that we believe are related to the statin drugs that He is given to control hyperlipidemia. On top of that, His once very well controlled diabetes has become more volatile and harder to manage. Recent blood work indicates increased levels of uric acid in His system, which puts Him at risk for developing gout.

We are simply feeling beleaguered and bewildered in the face of this array of medical hurdles. Master, in particular, is frightened, and angry, and very much hurt at this turn of events. To have worked so hard to have it all turn out badly anyway is a huge disappointment (at the very least).

He is at this point, considering bariatric surgery in the hope that it might prove the solution to the weight control dilemma -- and that solving that issue might eliminate, or at least radically improve a whole host of other medical issues. He will consult with a surgeon this week, and make some decision. If it gets quiet here, you will know that it is because we are simply "up to our necks in alligators."

swan

Coyote Wisdom

This is a "book review" of sorts.

Master's daughter gave me a copy of "The Daily Coyote" for Christmas. The book, by Shreve Stockton, is the outgrowth of her blog of the same name, which chronicles her life in Wyoming with an orphaned coyote puppy named Charlie.

My initial interest in The Daily Coyote came about because I shared about 17 years with a family "dog" who was more coyote than anything else. Smoky was a poor, tiny, wet, bedraggled looking baby when I found her in the parking lot of the grocery store on a stomy February night. I had no idea that she might be wild, and really believed that she might have gotten out of someone's car without them noticing. I assumed someone would be looking for her, and we searched diligently for her owners. It took us awhile to understand that it was likely that she'd been abandoned by her coyote mother. Our Smoky was not entirely coyote. Our best guess was that she was at least part German Shepherd and/or Collie, but the wild part was clear very early and throughout her life. She was an absolutely loyal and delightful family member.

That background explains why I became interested in The Daily Coyote. I hadn't actually thought about the book, but it was, in the event, a perfect gift.

I don't get a lot of time to read. I usually read in little snippets of time, most often in the bathroom. In spite of that, I've devoured this book and found it to be amazingly insightful about power and freedom and relationship. I'm imagining that the author never anticipated that anyone would read her words in exactly the light that I have, but it strikes chords in me on many levels. Check it out:

About her thirst for adventure and experience, Stockton writes: "Great unknowns were out there to be seen, felt, experienced; this is what life meant, this was what life was for."

That feels like my own personal philosophy on life -- at least when I'm feeling strong and centered and "in my right mind." I know that my willingness to step off into the "unknown" has carried me through trouble and uncertainty and into great joy and fulfillment. When I'm unwilling to simply go into life with that openess, I become stuck, frustrated, and stymied. Reading this, I was reminded of what Helen Keller said, "Life is either a great adventure, or it is nothing."

About people's reactions to Charlie: "The most startling part was being witness to people's reaction to Charlie, or lack thereof. Mike and I stopped at the A&W for milkshakes, and when the girl brought them out to the truck, she looked at mike and then across the length of the truck to me, offering small talk as she handed us our shakes, oblivious to the coyote between us. Even though Charlie sat on the seat between us with his ears perked high, she simply didn't register him."

Wow! There it is again -- that thing that we do so often as a poly family: hiding in plain sight. There was a time, when we were newer to this, that we often felt a bit self-concious when we were all out together in public. To us, it seemed that we had "ALTERNATIVE" or "WEIRD" or "KINKY" emblazoned all over us in bright neon letters. The reality, as we have come to understand, is that most people see what they expect to see. If they have no concept of something, like polyamory for example, then they simply do not "register" it.

Struggling to understand the changing dynamics with Charlie as he grows older, she writes: "I had always considered Charlie and me more of a team than as having a relationship based on rank. In fact, I had made it a point not to own him, and to coexist without ever being the boss of him."

Isn't that sort of typical of our cultural "values" these days. We tend to enter into intimate relationships with a belief that "equality" is appropriate, necessary, even desirable. In spite of the simple reality that the notion of "equality" in relationships is purely illusory, people persist in believing in it and trying to implement it. If we tell ourselves and one another the truth, we all know that relationships are permeated with power dynamics. In the home, but also in our more public encounters, nearly every interaction has elements of power associated with it. We spend our lives, from the time we are very small, jockeying for position and advantage in our dealings with others. However we might imagine our relatedness, it is a fact that we are continually shifting from the position of boss to that of "bossed." It is unavoidable. How much better if we know that and exercise that reality with deliberate intent and consciousness?

After reading the work of Cesar Millan: "Canines are happy to be followers' there is less mental stress involved, and order brings them a sense of peace. However, if they sense leadership is faltering, they will take it upon themselves to become the dominant figure to fill the void. In their mind, someone must be the boss or chaos is imminent."

I am not into "puppy" play, and I've never believed that humans in BDSM relationships are like dogs, but substitute "submissives" or "slaves" for the opening word, "canines" in this passage, and you have a truism about those of us who live in power-based relationships. We are happiest and most comfortable when there is a competent leader in charge, making for order in our worlds. When the limits are clear and the hand on the tiller is steady and sure, we are usually calm and easy and secure. When we sense that the control is wavering or uncertain or unsteady, we, well some of us (me included), are tempted, or even compelled to try and step into that void. It isn't comfortable and we're unhappy doing it, but that rudderless feeling scares the heck out of us.

As she learns from the coyote, she develops insights about herself: "I didn't know I was so coyote. But it was part of me from the very beginning. The loner, running for myself and by myself ... excruciatingly sensitive, with difficulty trusting until after thorough investigation and even then, reserving absolute trust ... at times, deferring to those around me out of sef-protection but not necessarily respect. Happy to sit and observe; a little pushy when I wanted soething. Desiring, most of all, to bring smiles to those around me ... and with that, power."

It isn't the description of the typical submissive personality that I've read in a thousand places over the years, but it fits with my reality. If I have to be "on my own," I'm going to be pulled in, reserved, stand-offish, and hugely self-defended. I can play the game of offering respect without actually feeling respect, and I'll do that if I think the situation warrants it. I don't have an urge for the limelight, and I'm happiest when others are happy. If I can't get what I want and need from those around me, I'm likely to keep pretty much to myself. I'll pull my power close and keep it available only for me if I don't have reason to believe it is safe to share it.

Finally coming to an understanding of the power dynamic between herself and Charlie, she seeks advice from a wise aunt, experienced with canines, who advises: "The task for both of you, is that you each need to surrender. Chalie needs to get to the point where he can surrender to you, because he trusts you, and you need to surrender in a differnet way, to the reality that life in not always perfect, not for anyone or anything, and you have to allow that part of the process, not only for yourself, but for those around you."

That is likely, the purest description of the path we travel with our partners as we seek to create good, healthy, fulfilling power dynamics -- mutual surrender to the very essence of our place in the world. It is an inextricable connection: the One who knows and understands, who has the vision of what life is and what it can be becomes the focal point and the available repository for the trust of which they are worthy. When we each find that place, that balance, then the power that we hold between us is unleashed to create the lives we dream as possible.

It is an odd place to find insight into what it is that we do, but I think that "The Daily Coyote" is a must read for those of us who live this life. There is great wisdom to be found inside of an intriguing story, and the lovely photography is an added bonus.

swan

Evil, Nasty, Predatory Monster

Late last week, a post showed up on one of the listserves that I still participate in. I don't really know anything about the person who wrote it. I believe the woman is not a frequent poster, but then, neither am I. What she wrote, however shocked me.

The short version of the story is that she and her "Master" are in a primarily long distance relationship that entails occasional face-to-face contact. When the relationship began, some years ago, the Master required her to be tested for STDs, and she learned as a result that she has genital herpes. The relationship went forward with the stipulation that she would take ant-viral medications, and they would practice safe sex. The "Master" volunteered to pay for all the medications and required medical appointments. She reported that she became frustrated at the infrequency of sexual contact and so stopped taking the medications and didn't tell Him. She had sexual relations with Him without advising Him of the discontinued medication regimen. When He confronted her about the situation, and she admitted to what she had done, He banished her from His home and His bed... What, she wondered, could she do to re-establish trust and stop "testing" Him?

The list kind of just sat there for a very long day after that little piece appeared. Silence was thunderous. I watched to see what response there would be, until I just couldn't stand it anymore. Then I unloaded. It is my opinion that such deliberate deceit, such a lack of integrity, such willingness to risk the well-being of a partner has no place at all in any relationship, and certainly is inappropriate within the context of a power-based relationship. As far as I'm concerned, this ding-a-ling ought to be facing legal charges. There's no reason at all to go easy on this kind of sleazy and irresponsible behavior. We ought to, as a community, be straightforward in calling this sort of predatory nonsense exactly what it is.

I wonder if the silence, the failure to step up and say that this was not "OK," was about the fact that it was the Dominant partner who was victimized? We have a culture in the lifestyle that causes us to lean toward the belief that it is the submissive who is vulnerable to abuse by scene predators. We are much slower to see, understand, and react to the ways in which the top part of the power equation can be victimized and harmed by unethical and unscrupulous bottoms.

It is entirely reasonable to withhold judgement of our various and divergent kinks. It is not at all reasonable to withhold our sanction when someone behaves in a deliberately destructive fashion within a lifestyle relationship.

swan

Somedays I just don't like it much

Seven years ago, when we were still living 1200 miles apart and seeing each other maybe three or four times a year, it was the only thing I could think of and the only thing I wanted: to be here, with Him, spanking... My dreams and hopes were enough to keep me in a continual state of anticipation and arousal. When we finally did get together, when the moving was done, it was heaven, and I was sure we'd go on forever spanking happily into our old age.





Castles in the sky...





This weekend, when the reality was right there, it was the hardest thing I could think of to do -- just staying put, just getting through it, just remembering to behave as I know is expected. When it was over with, when we'd made love, when He'd achieved His release, I was happy for Him, but hurt and unsatisfied and sad and less than thrilled with the whole business. I wandered around all day Saturday, just aching and feeling sorry for myself.





I've got a serious case of the "poor me's" going on:

• Poor me, I can't make anyone (especially Him) understand how really painful it is to get spanked.
• Poor me, I behave and stay put and fuck nicely when it is all over, and no one (One) really cares.
• Poor me, I never (well hardly ever) get to have any sexual gratification of my own, and most of the time, He's disappointed with me for not "getting off" on our sessions.

Poor me Poor me Poor me -- poor poor pitiful me.





Oh good grief!


I've done this bit before.


The urge never goes away.


The sense of gratification is way more erratic, but it does come around now and again.


I just need to get myself out of pity party mode, and calm down. It is the nature of being female in the circumstances that I find myself -- the responsiveness is fragile and fleeting and not altogether reliable. No one can do anything about that, and being a miserable grump about it does not make the rest of life much fun either.





There. Now I've whined. Perhaps we can get on with it for a bit again.





swan

Starting the Year Off

We celebrated the coming of the new year with a nice dinner... and a nice Merlot... and some nice champagne...

I wasn't all that prudent in my celebrating, I guess. Seems I had more than just a little alcohol. Not something that I do very often. I woke up this morning feeling pretty dreadful -- stomach queasy, miserable headache. It was that sort of hangover that leaves me hiding from the daylight, pulling the covers over my head to shelter from the light and noise of the coming day. Oh yeah! Happy fucking new year!

He, of course, woke up ready to spank in the new year... Groan...

Every cell in my body was wishing I could just curl into a ball and go back to sleep, but He was happy and jolly, and I was loathe to spoil His mood.

I did tell Him about my little "problem," (it is how safe words work here... there is the requirement that I tell Him about circumstances that affect my health and well-being) but then went and fetched my pillow and, very gingerly, got myself into position. It was almost a relief to get face down with my eyes buried into the pillow -- where I could just try and stay still and breathe.

"I love you, Sir... I love you, Sir... I love you, Sir..." very softly, along with my breathing -- my trusty spanking mantra.

I think He was gentler with me than He might have been otherwise -- not altogether easy, but not as harsh as He might have been. It was tough, but not horrible, and by the time it was done, I almost think I felt a bit better. Funny how endorphins can work.

We finished up, made love, and were off to our day. Not a bad start to our new year.

swan

Hippy New Year to ALL!

2009.....who would have thought we would still be around after 2001... Space Odyssey, anyone... Hal?....Bueller?

We did our normal Heron Clan New Year's Eve at home. Steak, King Crab legs, baked potatoes, green beans and asparagus wrapped in Prosciutto, Merlot and Champagne. Earlier today, we did shrimp cocktail and smoked salmon spread as appetizers.

Watched "Gattica" & "Dr. Zhivago" on the tube. Got the champagne poured in time to wish each other and Dick Clark a very happy one.

Normally we are not so "up" when the ball drops. Usually, we have to wake each other up to smooch and say "Happy New Year!" before we fall back to sleep....yes, we are a wild and crazy clan!

It is almost 2am... I launched Tom and Swan back to their side of the condos and couldn't go to sleep without wishing you and yours a most Wonderful 2009!

Pranzer is asleep under the Christmas Tree... and I am sure that Callie is asleep at Swan's feet.

Tomorrow is dinner and football, here, with Tom's Dad. Tom's youngest goes to University of Cincinnati and they are Orange Bowl bound. Cross your crossables....we wants them to win... and to win BIG!!!!

Happy Happy, everyone! Smooch your peeps. Squoze them while you are at it!

T