Toy collection #9

We have lots of items in our collection that are made by Danny of Leather by Danny. The quality of his leather work is without equal anywhere. We always look for Danny when we go to events, and we almost always purchase things from him. I've got both ankle and wrist cuffs from Danny as well as a really fine and lovely leather collar. Over the years, Danny has proved to be an excellent crafter of fine fetish gear, as well as a remarkably reliable vendor of marvelous integrity. We had one occasion to contact him a couple of years ago because a rivet had come loose on one of the cuffs we'd purchased from him. He was quick to provide directions and the needed hardware for repairing the problem, and threw in some goodies in the bargain. Danny is simply one of the "good guys" in the scene.

Now, Danny has now branched out into making paddles. We bought one at Winter Wickedness. It is bright red, made from acrylic plexi, and it feels just wicked. Master loves it, but from my perspective, it has knife-blade sharp edges, and absolutely no give. He claims that it is better than many of our other paddles; that it doesn't bruise me or leave welts, or break my skin. The first couple of times that I encountered it, I just really hated it, but I think, maybe, I'm getting a little better with it. I don't hate it as much as I did a week ago. Still, I think (not that anyone cares) that Danny really ought to stick to leather. Sheesh!

swan

Long Journey Ahead

The weekend is nearly upon us, and we have no plans. We have no schedules to keep. We have no demands on our time. It is a great, rare gift when that happens.

I am looking forward to the weekend; to time we can spend together. I am hoping to sink into the patterns and rhythms of our lives; to soak up and store up the sense of belonging and security that comes from being able to be simply His.

There is a part of my awareness that feels as if I am preparing for a long, long journey; far from home; into places that are unfamiliar, scary, and potentially dangerous. I want to figure out some way to carry with me the things that offer me comfort and security and a sense of who I am... There are no suitcases that will carry what I will need for this trip.

Looking ahead, I know that as we approach the date for Master and T to have their bariatric surgeries, our lives will change dramatically and drastically. In the short-term, every ounce of energy and attention will need to be focused on helping them to recover and grow strong in the post-operative phase. We will, all of us, need to become intensely aware of food intake and hydration and exercise. I expect that neither of them will be physically "disabled" for very long -- probably within a couple of weeks, they'll be able to begin resuming many of their normal routines, but the full recovery from any abdominal surgery takes months, not weeks. Perhaps even more serious in terms of time and energy will be the enormous changes that must occur in our lifestyle and in the relationship that we all have with food. Six months or a year out from the surgery, life around here may begin to assume some semblance of what will likely eventually become our "normal."

While we traverse the coming weeks and months, the power balance that is normally at the core of our lives will need to shift. Master and T will be, for a time, less able and far more dependent. They will be adjusting and adapting to a radically altered physical reality. I will be the one who is well and strong and able. I will be "the nurse," and that comes with a certain level of authority and required decision making. We've already begun to speak to it, about it, around it. It doesn't make any of us comfortable, but these are circumstances where it becomes necessary. We've done this before --as T has undergone hernia repair surgery, and surely, in the recovery and rehabilitation phase following Master's knee replacement.

I don't relish the role. It leaves me feeling small and alone. I cannot carry with me the things that I most rely on to keep me feeling stable, secure, and safe. Those things cannot be packed in my mental and emotional suitcase; anymore than they might fit in a physical suitcase. It scares me. I can do this. Will do it. Well. But, for now, for this weekend, I want things to remain as they are -- just a little while.

swan

Friendship Bloggers

“These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers.”



That is the wording of the "friendship blogger" award that is being passed around these days. Morningstar and kaya, two of my favorite reads / friends, have awarded this to me, and I am humbled... I don't know that I am entirely deserving of such glowing praise, but I am sincerely grateful for the friendship that inspired the award. Thank you, both!



The "rules" say that I'm supposed to pass it on to others who haven't been given the award. I'm not sure if I actually know who has and hasn't had this honor at this point, but here is a list of people who have been good friends to us. Their friendship has been a great gift in my life and in the life of our family:

Tangerine
Greenwoman
Her and him
Destiny and chance
danae
Alice
Melon Wars
M:e

And I'm in agreement with kaya: eight is not enough!

swan

Bondage

I don't think I've ever written about bondage. It has always seemed to me that we really don't "DO" bondage in the way that I envision that. So, it isn't a topic that has drawn me before this.

This comment made by Selkie on the post about the St. Andrew's Cross has had me contemplating the whole idea of bondage, so maybe it is time to say something about that...


People in the BDSM community seem to use the word, "bondage" as if it is a singular entity. In my experience, it really does seem that there are lots of different practices that all fall under the umbrella of "bondage." The practice is not at all monolithic. Perhaps, when we talk about "bondage," it would make sense to ask for clarification at the outset -- "what exactly do you mean when you use that word?"


In our house, bondage is used in its most prosaic form. Here, when bondage happens, it is for the sole purpose of restraining me so that He can whomp on me without either of us worrying about me staying put. There is no desire or need to do anything fancy. Tie me down or cuff me to something so that my ability to move is limited.


Very occasionally, that might go so far as to include a gag, but that is very rare.


Other people use bondage differently.


There is that branch of BDSM that gets into Shibari bondage. The word Shibari came into common use in the West at some point in the 1990s to describe the Japanese bondage art Kinbaku. Shibari is only partly about restraint. In some ways, it is more about making something that is visually beautiful than it is about actual bondage. It is an intricate, slow-motion dance that the partners create together. There can be great eroticism to Shibari, but it is a very disciplined practice that requires a very patient sort of temperament.


Some people practice the more technical and elaborate suspension bondage. Suspension is not something that can be done safely by a casual practitioner. There is way more to know than "how to tie a knot." Suspension bondage requires a depth of knowledge, technical expertise, and some pretty sophisticated equipment. I've never been involved in suspension play, but I am told that there is a particular sort of head space that can be achieved through suspension.


There is also bondage play that aims for total immobilisation and/or sensory deprivation. This kind of play can range from the use of shrink wrap, latex, and hoods all the way up to full body mummification. Cutting a bottom partner off from outside stimuli creates an entirely different set of physical experiences.


Another realm of bondage play is about creating a "predicament" for the bottom partner. Predicament bondage is designed to create dilemmas. Often this practice relies on binding the partner into positions where any slight shift or movement increases the level of discomfort or causes pain in a different place on the body. For people who are into this sort of play, the possibilities are almost endless.


Perhaps there are other ways to do this that I haven't thought about.


I do think that tastes vary widely in this sort of thing. As Selkie implied, bondage has a sort of appeal to many of us, and it can be a source of fascination and curiosity. There really is no way to know which parts of the bondage spectrum of activities might be enjoyable and exciting without taking the time to explore them. What will amaze and titillate one person will bore the next one half to death. If it intrigues you, it is worth a try.


One other thought on the whole issue of bondage. Like so many other BDSM activities, the issue of safety ought to be considered. There is plenty of information available on techniques and precautions. Wise players inform themselves about risks and make decisions accordingly.


swan

President Barack Obama Congressional Address Drinking Game!

With apologies to our non-U.S. readers, this is a bit of American political fun. Some of us (mostly of the Democratic persuasion) developed a coping strategy during the last eight years of dismal political darkness. During those long, painful years, we came to share various versions of "Drinking Games" that were passed around on-line prior to presidential speech events (like the State of the Union). I don't know how many people actually participated in the drinking part of Presidential speech-making drinking games, but I do know that the grim humor was one thing that helped us get through it all...

For tonight's historic, first ever, Barack Obama joint address to Congress, this version of the drinking game comes from Wonkette.

Enjoy! We will.

We do it like this: On the left is what you see/hear on the teevee. On the right is Your Corresponding Action.
“This will not be easy.” — One sullen slurp.
“Challenging times.” — Try to drink from the side of your mouth without spilling.
“Bipartisan” or “bipartisanship.” — One shot, feel up somebody else’s girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse.
“Same old politics” and/or “politics as usual.” — Two quick gulps.
“Played by the rules.” — Ask somebody to get you another drink and then drink their drink while they’re in the kitchen.
“Recovery.” — One hit off your beverage. (You should have spares at hand.)
“Recovery.com” — Three drinks and punch anybody in the room who sort of looks like Biden.
“Resolve.” — Take a shot.
Camera stops on various “opposition” figures such as Cantor: If you’re male, do a line of meth and try to get another “straight” guy to blow you in the bathroom.
“Discipline.” — Take a very careful shot.
Camera stops on Hero Pilot “Andrew” Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger III: Women and children take a drink, men go outside and have a smoke.
“Breaking ground.” — One manly gulp.
“Infrastructure.” — Two sips and check the fridge for supplies.
Any mention of the Taliban: Put a “burqa” (pillowcase) over the heads of any women and gaily drink with your male friends.
“Aggressive action.” — Chug a beer or glass of wine.
Any variation of “best days are ahead.” — Finish all the booze in the house, weep.

swan

Something New

This is really a housekeeping post. Just to keep our readers aware of a structural change here. Some of you may have already noticed. We've set up a separate blog to try and capture the journey that our family is beginning into the world of bariatric surgery and post-surgical life. We are full of hopes and fears, worries and what-ifs, plans and dreams. Some of it will inevitably show up right here, but for those of you who are not interested in that part of our lives, we'll make some effort to corral most of it -- over there at Herons Transforming.



swan

Trying to "Get There"

Topping from the bottom. To be accused of Topping from the bottom seems to me to be one of the worst things that can happen in the general day to day work of relating as a submissive and a slave. It has been, since the earliest days of this journey, been one thing that I've worked hard to avoid. Getting into behavior that directs things from my end takes the control out of His hands, and knowing, as I do, how He feels about becoming a "service top," I am even more reluctant to skirt that edge.

What that means, in practical terms, is that I very seldom offer anything much in terms of wants and wishes when it comes to the way we play. I don't know how to just float ideas out there without having them take on more weight than I really want them to have. So, it is unusual for me to do what I did a couple of weeks ago. I think I'd said something about feeling chilly, and He's offered to take me in the bedroom and "warm me up." In Master-speak, that points directly to a session with one or more paddles. I didn't even think about it, I replied, "You don't DO warm-ups -- at least not with me. The only people who get warm-ups and aftercare are newbies."

He didn't say much at all, and the whole conversation sort of faded away... Until this morning. This morning, our session was amazingly different than what has come to be the "norm." Usually, I barely get face down over the pillow (ass up) before He's wailing away with whatever. There isn't even time to get physically settled, much less mentally settled. Today, there was a warm -- a real, slow, step by step warm up. I had plenty of time to find the path, get on the path, and walk the path. It was amazing. It took me awhile to even notice what He was doing because I was so crunched down in my mind trying to prepare to cope with the usual onslaught. When I did notice, it just took my breath away.

Somewhere along the way, I felt my mind come to the understanding that what was happening was that, with the slower and more attentive pace He was setting, I was actually able to focus and gather my resources so that I could flow with the sensations He was creating.

I used to do that all the time. Back in the early days of our relating, I was much better at grabbing on to the rhythms and patterns and simply going with the energy. It is much more complicated now than it once was.

I find that I need time; time to hunt down the various yammering voices in my mind and quiet them; time to remember to breathe; time to focus on His touch and His scent and His breathing; time to quell the emotional storm that can rise up in me at the first twinges of real pain, and remember that there can be joy and pleasure in this if I can simply "get there."

It isn't a process that happens quickly for me anymore. Nothing happens quickly for me anymore. I can't rely on my sexual responses to kick in and carry me away. I have to follow a path that allows me to think my way through the beginnings of a session, chanting and breathing and deliberately maintaining a level of muscular relaxation, until my own response mechanisms can catch up. I've never been an easy masochist. I am not someone who drops into a space wher I easily convert painful stimuli into pleasurable sensations -- I will forever be envious of those folks! For me, pain just hurts a lot of the time. If I can capture the rhythm and the mood, and stay quiet in my own mind, I might, just maybe find my way to the joy I used to experience in all of this.

Having Him go more slowly, especially in the very beginning, makes a huge difference.

swan

We Don't Agree On Everything

I've just figured out that there are people who read here and assume that, because we are involved in this Master/slave dynamic, we always agree with one another -- on everything. I realize that there are some who believe that Master and I were "speaking with one voice" on the subject of polyamory when we wrote the Polyamory Observations #13 and #14 posts. It seems that some people, reading the two posts, believed that I was "on the same wavelength" and had just sort of picked up where He left off... It just isn't so.


There are plenty of places that Master and I would do things differently if we were each operating independently. I'd likely leave the television and the radio off much of the time. He never is awake without one or the other or sometimes both playing wherever He is. I'd always arrive early for whatever function or appointment I was heading for, He honestly believes that only "peons" need to be on time. I'm likely to never understand why it is that He cannot leave the house without something on the order of 20 knives on His person -- and as to the necessity of sunglasses, well let's not get started on that one. If the world ran my way, it is unlikely that there would be used toothpicks, dental floss, empty soda cans, and crumpled tissues lying everywhere waiting for the slave to gather them up and dispose of them... I could go on.


To me, the fact that He and I don't always agree on everything seems crystal clear, but obviously, not everyone gets it. It is, I imagine a misunderstanding about the nature of how He and I do M/s. It is really simple actually -- Master is always right. Even when He's completely wrong. I don't have to agree with Him on things. I sometimes don't. He still gets to do it His way. And there are times when that makes me absolutely nuts. I fuss and carry on and agonize over it all, and it changes nothing at all. Polyamory is particularly prone to that happening. He and I just don't experience it, understand it, or see it the same way.


When it comes to polyamory, He likes it. He is in love with the very idea of polyamory. He gets all wound up and waxes eloquent about it as a sort of philosophical notion, and He really does harbor some sort of "dream" about a giant poly family full of a whole lot of willing butts for Him to spank.


I am much more inclined to call "bullshit" -- especially when someone gives me that syrupy, sappy, "more love makes more love" line. It's possible. It does happen. We're living proof, but I happen to think that our family is pretty amazing, and not at all the norm (assuming that there even is such a thing in the world of polyamory).


So, while Master is going on and on about the wonders of polyamory, and all the joys it brings, I am in my head working my way through all sorts of counterpoints that I know make no difference to anyone but me. Lest anyone ever again doubt that I am utterly pathetic at embracing the sort of free-wheeling poly ethic that is becoming fashionable these days, here is a peek inside what I "really think." Obviously, my views do not represent those of "The Management."


I think that, if we in the poly community were going to be entirely honest, we'd simply note that, generally speaking, "more love makes more sex" for some, and a whole lot less of everything else for others. Not always, of course, but a lot of the time. A very cursory read across a few poly lists will give you a very clear picture of the myriad men and women in so-called poly relationships who are sidelined watching their partners get "more" while they get way less. It is not at all unusual. The truth is that not everyone falls in love in the same way, with the same ease, and not everyone has the same kind of opportunities to create "more" relationships.

Further, there is a very simple, practical reality that when you add more relationships to your life (regardless of the nature of those relationships), you have less time and less energy for any single one of them. It is not possible to divide limited resources among a larger and larger demand, and not have anyone ever experience shortages. Our household accommodates that reality. But it exists. There is the necessity for sharing time. For sharing energy. For working at making sure that, at least some of the time, everyone gets what they need. Even Master probably doesn't always have things exactly the way He might want it. There is continual balancing. If there were "more" members, that reality would become even more pronounced. More give and take required -- more balancing to do -- more frequent and or more severe shortages of time and attention.


One of the comparisons that often gets used in talking about multiple loving relationships is that of a parent loving more than one child. Master likes that one. "We love each of our children, no matter how many there are. We don't insist that we have to choose one, and send the others away..." So goes the argument. I think that particular image has great appeal for my Dear Master who spent His childhood as an "only" child. He never got to experience the shift in affection and attention that the older children live through as younger siblings arrive one after the other. There is less parental energy with each additional child, and while (as it was in my family) elder siblings might fill in the gaps to a degree, it isn't the same thing.


How individuals adapt to poly relatedness depends on a wide variety of factors. Clearly, there is the question of compatibility. T and I are usually pretty good together; we like each other and we generally see things in much the same way. We are relatively mature and stable and we don't poke at each other or rub each other's fur backwards (at least not very often). I would bet the farm and the first born that there are not a dozen women on the planet that I'd feel as comfortable with or mesh with as closely. All the other three billion or so women on the planet might be perfectly lovely, but I am not interested in living with any of them -- or having much at all to do with them if you want to know the truth. It's just the fact. I am a natural born loner and introvert. I really don't enjoy people that much. Having lots of folks around wears me out. It isn't fun; it is an irritant and it exhausts me.

I like relationships that go deep. I like time spent; long, slow conversations that meander and pause and resume again. I like to know more and more and more about a partner as time goes on. I invest everything in relationship. I understand that there is no reasonable ground for expecting someone to be "all" for another person. That is, in poly parlance, placing too heavy a burden on a single love. In far-flung poly webs and pods, it seems very common for people to have a group of loves that are analogous to a varied wardrobe -- this one for one occasion, and that other for something else, while still another is reserved for other moments and moods. Segmented loving. Compartmentalized intimacy. In those circumstances, no one is "all" for anyone, and no one ever gets access to "all" of anyone. Its all very avant garde, but it makes me sad.

That is the way I tend to think about poly. It is a unique and alternative way of living and loving, and it can work well for some people. I just think that the visions that people have of being able to juggle almost unlimited numbers of intimate relationships in a magic wonderland where everything is wonderful and everyone is happy and fulfilled all the time is pretty seriously deluded. I'd buy that it is possible, if everyone buys in, to manage a whole bunch of relatively shallow, casual linkages, but that precludes being fully available for something more significant.

He won't agree, and life will be the way He sees it. That is where the M/s comes in. Whatever I might think or wish for in this realm may be acknowledged, but it won't change the decisions that will be made. Whatever I would wish, the expectation is that I'll welcome, support, embrace, and make space for whoever might be called into our family.

swan

Peanuts?

I heard this clip on the radio in the car on the way to school this morning. It just made me giggle. If you haven't heard it or seen it, here is the Zain Verjee report on "PEANUTS."

St. Andrew's Cross

One of the continuing impressions from our most recent foray into the public scene is the time I spent attached to the St. Andrew's cross at Winter Wickedness. So, some random, rambling thoughts on this particular piece of dungeon furniture...

These are ubiquitous in BDSM dungeons, it seems. The St. Andrew's cross is so common in public playspaces as to be essentially emblematic of the whole BDSM lifestyle.

This particular bit of dungeon furniture, hearkens to the style of cross that was purportedly used to execute Andrew -- one of the original twelve apostles. The story is that Andrew did not feel he was worthy to be executed in the same mode as his "lord," and so was crucified on an X-shaped cross. The St. Andrew's cross motif is found on flags from around the world -- most notably, the national flag of Scotland.

In dungeons, this is the very generic item used for restraining a bottom partner in a standing, spread-eagled position. The bottom may be restrained either facing the cross, or facing out toward the Top partner.

I've spent more than a little bit of time attached to crosses in various dungeons. The styles differ in the finer details, but the basic design is completely unchanging. There are, in my experience, some commonalities to the experience of being restrained on a St. Andrew's cross.

-- Unless the room is miserably, oppressively warm, the surface of the cross (usually wooden) is unpleasantly cold. Laying up against the surface of one of these things (since the "victim" is almost always naked) is, before anything else, about overcoming the urge to pull away from a very cool surface. Goose bumps on the goose bumps...

-- The St. Andrew's cross imposes an inescapable physical vulnerability. The whole idea is to place the bottom into a spread-eagled posture. With a set of minimally functional wrist and ankle restraints, it is possible to very quickly place the bottom into an inescapably open and accessible position.

-- There is a level of physical stress to being restrained in this fashion. Hands are pinioned above the head. Ankles are spread. Wide. Try it for yourself. Spread your feet apart at a distance of about 3 feet. Keep your legs straight, and then just stand around like that for a bit of time. Pay attention to the muscles in your calves, thighs, feet, back, butt, etc. This is not a "natural" position for a standing human.

-- Most St. Andrew's crosses put the bottom in a position where the Top is likely (nearly guaranteed) to land strokes (of whatever) too high, or too low -- or to wrap more stokes than one might expect.

-- There is no way to simply relax and just float away on a cross. The body has to be supported. Sagging in one's bonds is just bad form.

-- Most versions of the St. Andrew's cross do not provide any support for the head and upper torso. The upper body just hangs out in the gap between the uprights. It is not a piece of equipment that gives the bottom partner a sense of being secure and supported.

My experiences being restrained on St. Andrew's crosses, in a wide variety of dungeons, is what drove my desire to have a piece of restraint furniture that was actually supportive and relatively comfortable. Hence the genesis of our custom built flogging frame.

I always shrink just a bit inside when He chooses the St. Andrew's cross. I am way more comfortable and secure on most spanking benches. I don't think He actually has a preference --my guess is that the decision is usually driven (in the event) by what is available at that moment.

I've been through some amazing, awesome, wicked sessions on St. Andrew's crosses. These simple to manufacture, uncompromising, darkly evocative bits of dungeon gear have been my companions in pain and suffering and ecstasy for many years. Good memories...

swan

Raw

People ask questions; about slavery, about limits, about polyamory, about all the ins and outs and details of our lives. We work to answer honestly posed questions. It is an investment of our time and our energy. Sometimes, it requires that we dig deep into areas that many people would consider to be private. We expose ourselves here. We are vulnerable here. It can be terribly hard to do.

This last round of questions, about slavery, about limits, about polyamory, pushed me into my own, personal morass of worry and doubt and fear and frustration. So, as I wrote about all the various bits and pieces of this, as the conversation proceeded, it was my own rawness that I was poking into...my fears.

I think that, because we write and talk pretty openly and freely about all of this, it seems to people who look in from the outside that it is easy, stress-free, painless. It happens more often than not -- people who read, who stop by here on their rounds in the cyber-neighborhood, just figure they know us, and never ever contemplate that they are pawing around in things that are tender, not finished, not tidy, not easy.

I think that people who live more "normal" kinds of lives just assume that we are "the same as them, only different." They think that we value the same things, see things the same way, share the same rights, experience the same social situations. It is easy for conversations that start off as apparently friendly and curious and open to turn judgemental and hurtful with just a turn of phrase -- just a word here or there, a shift in tone. When that happens, a relationship that previously felt good can turn pretty sour pretty fast. It hurts.

The reality is that I am not now, and don't expect to ever be, entirely easy with a more open form of poly than what we now do -- the family that includes the three of us. I understand and accept that it is His desire and dream to add more people to our family. I don't like that. It doesn't make me happy. It scares me. When I am talking my way through ideas like "compersion" and the "naturalness" of living in poly relatedness, I am talking to myself. I am gathering support and advice that I can hopefully use. I am not "trying to justify" anything. To anyone. I am working. Hard. Trying to practice what I will someday have to live. When I discuss limits that are not "mine" but His, I am not talking about some imaginary abstract impossibility. I am looking into my future and hoping to develop the skills that I'll surely need to live up to agreements I take very seriously. Often, because of the nature of this place, I share what I am learning, the things I am pondering here. If any of that is helpful, that's good. If it doesn't resonate, or doesn't apply, or just doesn't make sense to readers, that's fine, too -- just move along. You are not invited to try and argue with me in that event. Don't judge. It causes me pain, and it makes me angry. Just go quietly away. Please.

I don't spew my doubts all over this place. I seldom discuss them with anyone. It isn't germane and it isn't important -- it just doesn't matter. The fact that you don't see them here doesn't mean I don't have them. It doesn't mean I'm so thick skinned that I cannot be hurt.

Right now, I'm hurt. No more questions. Not for awhile.

swan

Polyamory Observations #14

I've just picked up a new book, "Animals Make Us Human," by Temple Grandin. Grandin is an associate professor at Colorado State University and arguably the most accomplished and well-known adult with 'high functioning' autism in the world. She is also a world renowned professional designer of humane livestock facilities. I first learned about Temple Grandin years ago when I was still fumbling around in the dark trying to figure out what it was that made my brilliant daughter so "odd." Hers was the first voice I'd ever heard that sounded like my daughter's. Hearing Grandin's voice put me on the path to beginning to understand some of the reasons for my child's difficult social interactions (but I digress).

Grandin discusses animal behavior (and remember we are animals, too) based on the theories of neuroscientist Dr. Jaak Panksepp, who wrote about the “blue-ribbon emotions” that guide human and animal behavior. These emotions, which Panksepp and Grandin alike write in capital letters, are SEEKING, RAGE, FEAR, PANIC, LUST, CARE, and PLAY. One of the most interesting qualities Grandin discusses is SEEKING, which has to do with looking forward to something pleasant or searching out novel experiences. “The pleasure people feel when their SEEKING system is stimulated,” Grandin writes, “is the pleasure of looking forward to something good, not the pleasure of having something good.” SEEKING is always about something you don't have yet.

I read that, and I had a definite "aha" moment. All of that impassioned rhetoric that Master uses to argue that polyamory is "natural..." He's probably right -- it probably really IS natural, emanating from an entirely animalistic portion of our neuroanatomy. Polyamory is likely mostly about SEEKING -- about the pleasure of anticipating something good, about the curiosity about something you don't have yet. So, I went looking to see if anyone had ever connected polyamory and SEEKING, and there it was (there is no such thing as an original thought, don't you know):


Chimpanzees and bonobos (who share around 99% of our DNA) have what’s referred to as a multimale-multifemale mating system. Females have sex with multiple individuals in their troop and make positive choices about which males they’re most interested in... Males ... compete with each other in what biologists refer to as “sperm competition.” Large amounts of ejaculate will be produced in order to “wash out” a previous males' contribution. Chimpanzee and bonobo males are extraordinarily well endowed in the testicle department as a result. A large testicle-to-body size ratio is therefore a strong predictor of a multimale-multifemale mating system.

In contrast to this, gorillas live in a single male-multifemale mating system and the large bodied males have testicles so small that anatomists have reported difficulty in even finding them. This is because there was no selection pressure from the gorilla mating system to produce a large amount of ejaculate...In all ...cases the mating system of the primate species in question can be predicted based on male testicle size.



So this leads to the obvious question: are humans more like chimpanzees and bonobos or more like gibbons and gorillas. Unequivocally, (and as you would expect from the genetic evidence) human testicles are more like chimps and bonobos...humans evolved with a multimale-multifemale mating system.


We've laid eons of social constraint over the top of our animal natures -- trying to wipe out what is written in the dendrites of our brains. How interesting that we've posited a creator that would frown upon us behaving in precisely the way we appear to have been "created." It really isn't about religion, or morality, or politics. It is about what we are. We can live afraid of what that might mean, but our FEAR emanates from the same brain regions as our SEEKING. FEAR and RAGE result from the inhibition and frustration of what would be "normal" animal behavior.


I don't know what it all means. I don't know how it works in my life, much less what it might mean for our culture and our society. I only know it is intriguing.



swan

Going Steady

Going Steady

Valentine, O, Valentine,

I'll be your love and you'll be mine.

We'll care for each other, rain or fine,

and in 90 years we'll be 99.

~Ian Serraillier~

There you go -- a poem I found, written by someone that I am guessing might be very young... But, here, this day, I think it fits with the festive day, when we get to celebrate those we love...

Here are my loves, celebrating with a festive breakfast -- fruit bouquet by T :-)

I hope you've got someone (or someones) that you are happy to care for and be cared for by, rain or fine, until we are all 99...

swan

Polyamory Observation # 13 (on Friday the 13th)

There have been two recent comments here that have stirred my desire to write. One was from Impish 1 and the other from Sara. Thank you to each of you for your direct and honest perspectives and your inquisitiveness as to, "how is it that you do this emotionally?" (This is a paraphrase of their comments.) All of our previous Polyamory Observations have been written by swan. Were she to do this, she would no doubt do some of the bloggger cyber magic she does so well, to build in links to the two comments that are precipitating this post. I lack her skill, and so am about to simply cut and paste these comments so you can see what I am responding to. That will make this lengthy. If you don't want to read all this, just skip over them.

"Impish1 said...
I learn a great deal from your discussions here. I don't know if I'll ever find an answer to the question that this type of discussion bring to my mind and has me turning over again and again. I know inherently that my ability to love unconditionally could never stretch far enough to silence the jealousy I would feel sharing my husband this way. Having come to know the family you have now, I understand it as family and feel Swan's anger and pain at the thought of a new love coming into the home openly. Sorry for the long winded set up, but the question I keep asking myself is - does this ability to love this way come through iron will, or is it something that some are more suited for or adapted for because of something intrinsic. I recognize that even if it's something that one is inclined to it would take constant work to conquer the natural impulse for self interest. It's very generous of you all to help us understand the dynamic of this type of relationship - I have learned much. Thank you."

"Sara said...
Tom,"this comparison and contrast. Your openness and non-defensiveness are both rare and very much acts of friendship." I feel just the same, and thank you and swan very much! I just cannot pretend to understand polyamory, can't wrap my mind around living with that. What I do believe is that it is part of the relationship construct you and swan agreed do from the start. If my assumption is wrong that is a different matter. I can understand swan struggling with something she philosophically agrees with, but emotionally does not like. I think Grant and I have had reverse struggles. We consciously committed to our relationship requiring us each to put our union above any other relationship. There are times when that has been a struggle, and not easy to live with. I remember in graduate school having a really good friend, a male study partner, whom Grant was uncomfortable with. There was no specific reason, but he read the man's intentions very differently than I did, I felt this man was an important friend, Grant felt the relationship was an interference to our marriage. I struggled with that, and it hurt. However, at the end of the day, what I had with Grant, right or wrong was more important than anything else, so I accepted what I had to live with, and said goodbye to the friendship. My point being, all relationships can require a great deal of struggle at times. Honoring commitments is not easy. I am still stuck with the limits issue. All people, whatever they call themselves, have limits and boundaries. I am thinking that just as in all good relationships between people who DO cherish each other, regardless of the power dynamic, when they hit that wall they simply work hard together to get through it intact, and in a loving way. That part is consistent."

These two comments engender one of the most frequent reactions we encounter to polyamory. "How is it that you do this? I can't imagine how you wrap your head around this. How do you tolerate the emotions of it all?" These seem to be the thoughts that those who respond openly and non-judgementally to poly find themselves struggling with. Others who condemn polyamory outright, make the issue is simple. Polyamory is wrong. The people who do it are sinful, ungodly, degenerate, and possibly even criminal, so there is no reason to struggle with how they might do it. It is simply necessary to stamp the practice out.

Then there are our friends here who are not poly, who have come to care for and respect us as we do them, (and you cannot know how great a gift that friendship is to those of us who live beyond the boundaries of normal society), but who wonder how in the hell it is that we do this....or even why we'd want to.

This is such fertile ground. We can respond to this on so many levels.

Looking at this broadly, culturally, sociologically is one approach. I would refer you to the post I wrote, "The Origins Of Modern Monogamy" on our predecessor Blog, The Swan's Heart, July 4, 2005. Perhaps swan will put a link in here :-) to that for us when she gets to look at this (knowing her schedule right now, that likely won't be until tomorrow.) You can link to Swan's Heart here on our Blog, and you should be able to scroll through our archives to July 4, 2005 pretty readily. Points there that you might find interesting include that anthropologically there are far more polygamous (or polyamorous) cultures than there are monogamous. There is evidence that humans, left to their innate instincts would likely live in polyamorous families not monogamous ones. Additionally the history of our Judeo-Christian culture came from polygamous traditions: traditions that were co-opted and for political/economic reasons when the Roman Catholic Church made an edict mandating monogamy in the interest of creating intestacy to enrich its coffers. This discussion is much more thoroughly "fleshed out" in the July '05 Swan's Heart post. This Cliff's notes version is not that compelling.

This transition from Judeo-Christian polygamy to monogamy having been "legislated canonically," a huge and highly successful historical revision took place. Today, when Rick Warren says that, "Marriage is one man and one woman, and always has been throughout all time in all cultures," (paraphrase) no one blinks. No one questions it. We've been taught that is true. It is one of the foundational fairy tales upon which our culture is based. It is, of course, a complete lie, but we are all products of our culture.

We grow up watching/reading love stories, listening to love songs, celebrating Valentine's Day (a fabulous old Pagan holiday which involved the whipping of women to celebrate their fertility....how perverted our culture has become in turning it into a feast of chocolates, roses, and greeting cards), and knowing that somewhere there is for us our "one and only one," and that there must, and can only be, "our ONE." We know that it is simply not possible to love more than one at a time, and that if we did, we would certainly be deluding ourselves and damaging our relationship with "our ONE."

We have no problem imagining parents who have multiple children loving them all simultaneously without sacrificing their love for each one. We don't require them to choose which child is "their ONE" and then send the others away lest they somehow damage the relationship with "their ONE" child, yet we know that their parents must love only one adult or else....who knows what it is might happen....they might come to have "too much" love in their life, or worse yet too much sex.

OK, OK, I'll settle back down now and get my excessive rhetoric under control. And remember the cultural phenomenological frame within which I live and we all are having this conversation.

We marry "our ONE" and go about our lives. Inevitably there are continual sexual attractions we encounter daily (even at my age:) Then there are occasionally people whom we encounter who we truly feel drawn to. We are comforted that in our society to even act on these attractions is generally a huge taboo which could have dire professional/vocational, and even legal consequences, so we are bolstered in our resistance to having "too much love." But despite our knowing in the depths of our acculturated souls, and in law that it is absolutely wrong, and unhealthy, and immoral, and sinful for us to have love other than with "our ONE," our marriages crumble often because there is a deviation from the accepted societal more by one or both partners. And, of course, if there is a deviation, our marriage must end, and our self-worth must be questioned, and we must atone, most likely with a counselor, because we have exceeded our permissible "love quota."

It should be clear by now that I think monogamy is unhealthy, inhuman, illogical, stupid, immoral, and wrong (just in case you were wondering how I really feel.) I absolutely do not believe that those who practice are necessarily any of those judgemental adjectives. They are simply "Society's Child," (where is Janice Ian when I need her.)

Now to pan in the scope of our conversation to just us: swan, t, and me. How is it that we did this, do this? For all my high falutin rhetoric earlier on in this post, the reality is, I grew up in our general culture. As a boy, one of my earliest memories of romantic awakening was going through a few days of feeling "in love" while the song "Tammy's In Love" lilted through my head day and night. I had no target for my affections. This likely was some early on assault of hormones. I think it was 1959. I think I was even singing the song in my sleep. I was in love with who "my ONE" was going to be. I knew I would find that magic one who would make my life whole and fulfill my life as a good Christian man. I would likely be a Presbyterian minister, and my parents would be so proud and......well all this was true unless I was a military hero or possibly President of the U. S............or to be an attorney (my father had told me attorneys were men of huge character) was an aspiration. There was nothing my mind other than that I would come to love anyone "my ONE." Except of course my continual war with my deep dark WRONG secret self, that I wanted, no way more than wanted, NEEDED to spank every woman and girl who I met.......but that is another discourse entirely.

In college I met "my ONE." It was the great disaster of my life. It was the beginning of a horrible 29 year marriage with a woman who never knew me and who resisted me knowing her. She had no use for sex or intimacy, but she fulfilled my cultural myth and we did have two fabulous children, who I would not have, were it nor for our union. My adult life really began with my divorce, but I digress (again). When I was with "my One" in college, I had a roommate who was my close friend. The three of us were like the Three Musketeers. We used to joke we were like the Mod Squad (how 60's is that.) One night knowing how close the two of them were I encouraged the two of them to go home from the bar we were in together. I saw no reason why they should not express their love for each other. It came to me naturally. I was head over heels in infatuation with her, but we three were so close, I wanted them to enjoy each other and their feelings. I was pleased that they would be happy together. It was my first experience of compersion, although I had no idea what that construct was at that point. I guess I was somehow 'infected" with polyamory early on. I don't exactly know how or why.

Ratchet life up about 30 years. I was divorced. Essentially, I lost my children other than rare visits and sending off child support checks. I was devastated and questioning whether I wanted to live. I met t. She brought light and laughter and love and respect, and acceptance of my BDSM orientation, and sex like I'd never had into my life. And we became one and I loved her like never before and I still do. We married. And as I explored my lifestyle orientation, and community, and mentored others in this life, I/we met a couple, swan and her X. And after a time (years) they wanted to join us. swan and I recognized connection between us that was truly magic. We've always felt that we recognized each other somehow from the moment we first connected via the Internet. We became a family of 4. Then her former husband's and her marriage ended, and we became the three we are now, and will remain.

In polyamory we have our feelings like everyone else. When swan and I were first in love, I felt huge guilt, or more like fear that I/we would hurt teresa, fear that I might lose teresa, I felt selfish, I felt weak, and at the same time I felt hugely in love. I felt no desire to lose teresa....exactly the reverse. I loved her too. I loved her differently. I love teresa as I loved teresa. I loved sue as I love sue. I wanted both. First I admitted to sue I loved her. I was stunned when she loved me back. That thrilled me but accentuated the feelings of fear for t and guilt, etc.

When I think of the feelings poly folks have sometimes when they have new love, due to their acculturation's teaching them that what they are feeling and doing is wrong, I find myself flashing to Tom Sawyer floating down the Mississippi on a raft with his Aunt Polly's slave Jim. Slave Jim is escaping slavery and Tom is facilitating (aiding and abetting) it. Tom, in his internal monologue is suffering the tortures of the damned for his "sinfulness" in helping "steal" his Aunt's slave. He goes on, in his mind, at great length, about how he knows he has turned away from God, and will burn in hell, for the sin of helping "steal" his Aunt's nigger. Despite his knowing the great Christian "evil" he is doing in facilitating Jim's flight to freedom, knowing he is ending his relationship with God as he knows him, Tom cannot prevent himself, from helping to steal Jim. Polyamorists often understand just how Tom Sawyer felt.

Was t hurt? Yes. Did we all find a way through it? Yes. We gained each other. Not only do I have my two loves, but they too, have come to love each other (sororitally) deeply.

When new love happens in a poly relationships there is often a mixture of joy, sorrow, jealousy, fear, expectation, recrimination, etc. Poly's become good at communicating; at really listening to each other; at embracing their loves even when it hurts and when the feelings are not good; at knowing that there are no "bad" or "wrong" feelings; at knowing they are committing a sin just like stealing Aunt Poly's nigger and taking him to freedom. We don't do this because we are superior, or a race apart, or more strong willed than monogamists, but because we prefer to invest our relational angst in having more love, not in limiting it to less. We do it because those are the skills necessary to survive and have our love(s).

So I cannot resist asking very respectfully, (because believe me I do not have any judgement of anyone else's relationships..........I am frequently judged and I know how it feels so I don't judge others)when you, Sara, had to end your friendship in graduate school, did you not have feelings about that? Did you not have to communicate your way through those feelings with your husband? Did you not struggle? Did you never question if that was right? Why would you invest all that energy in resolving struggles in the interest of limiting love rather than in your having more of it? It is a question I ask all of you who have had loves and thus ended an earlier relationship, or divorced? Why couldn't you have continued your original love and had your new one too? What is it about having more than one love simultaneously that you (appear to me/us) to be so abjectly terrified of? How do you know that were you to love more than one, you would love your first one less? It could just be you'd find the magic synergy that more love makes more love. You might just find that miracle that you'd love more.

When t and swan and I confronted our love, we had a choice. I could have chosen one of them. I could have sacrificed the joy that is the three of us. I could have mourned the loss of one of them forever. I could have had "my ONE." I don't find what we do difficult. I cannot imagine what it is that you monogamists do. How do you do it? Why do you do it? Why when you can open your lives to the magic of more love do you limit your lives to dramatically?

Well now, how is this for a rambling, excessively rhetorical, extensive treatise? I could have just written a conceptual piece here. It would have been brief and direct. I know that, what with my dyslexia, I will never get all the typos out of this. I really felt that to answer this, you needed to know my beliefs, my values, some of my history, and then how this works and has worked in our lives.

We are poly. We are one poly family. I am not sure we are representative of much of anyone but us, but we are more similar to poly families than we are to most monogamous ones. While we poly folks are a small minority there are thousands of our families. We don't all live the same way at all. There is what we call the polyfuckery wing of the poly community that is way different (or maybe just younger) from us. Many of us have become what I call neo-pagan. I have no more desire to live my life based on pagan mumbo-jumbo than I do Christian, Jewish, Islamic, or any other ancient mythos super-imposed onto my life. So take this for what it's worth as an indication of how polyamory works in general. But you asked how we do it, and how we wrap our heads around it. This is a whack at communicating that.

All the best,

Tom

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

Limits

Finite by Jodi Wright

Flesh can only stretch so far
before muscles, tendons, bones, joints
screaming snap.

Time will simply swell so far
before seconds, minutes, hours, days
blasting burst.

Love must trusting bear so far
before faith, desire, bonding, vows
crumbling crash.

Imperfection lasts in this fragile, temporary world
that limits may be respected,
and boundaries set on human pride

Sara keeps asking about limits. She wrote: "Maybe your limits are way further down the road than mine, but don't they exist?"

It is a question that comes up pretty regularly in circles where relationships get labeled as M/s, D/s, Owner/property, or TPE. Usually, these conversations veer off into contentiousness. I really want to try to keep this out of that territory.

The short answer to the question is that "yes, I have limits." There are places that I don't believe I ever want to go, or even could go. Please pay attention to the pronouns. That is all about what I think, what I fear, and what I want. There are plenty of things on the menu of activities that He could ask or require, that I'd find very difficult to accommodate. Many of those things might make me downright miserable. I'd most likely experience enormous emotional reaction, mental anxiety, and physical stress if He wanted me to engage in any number of behaviors that are pretty commonplace for some in power-based relationships. I really think He knows that.

He has His own set of limits, and they are only loosely related to mine. They are His, and His limits are and always will be the ones that define our relationship. He might choose to stay within the boundaries defined by "my limits," but it really is a choice, and He might make another choice at any time. I know that. If I think about it a lot, it scares me -- so I don't think about it much.

Another way to look at this notion of "limits" is to consider the word itself, aside from the connotations that we tend to attach to it within the lifestyle. Looking at the word, "limit," gives a definition like this:

limit -- a real or imaginary point beyond which a person or thing cannot go

Searching for synonyms for "limit," gives a list of words including: boundary, ceiling, confines, end, extent, limitation, line, termination, edge, margin, verge, barrier, wall

I think that is interesting, actually. When we talk about limits, we are conjuring up some point, real or imagined, beyond which we believe we cannot or will not go. Within the lifestyle, there is the implication that limits are those restrictions that we put in place in order to maintain our safety. That seems entirely reasonable, but what I see when I study the list of synonyms for the word "limit" is that, in truth, believing in limits burdens us with edges, barriers, and walls that encircle and constrain our lives and our imaginings. We agree to give up a good deal of freedom in order to gain what feels like safety.

What Sara has reacted to in her current questing to understand the idea of limits is, in part, the exceptionally dramatic "bumpy" place that kaya and her Master encountered a couple months ago. That event was difficult, to be sure -- difficult for kaya, for Scott, and for those of us who looked on from the outside. What came about, in the end I think, was a resolution that was entirely different than what anyone saw at the beginning. What seemed to be a limit -- a deal breaker -- turned out to be an opportunity to examine assumptions, reaffirm values, and chart a course forward that honored the truth of the committments made within the context of the life they were living. Not limits, but possibilities.

For me, that has been consistently true when I've managed to deal with what frightens or repels me, and stretch the boundaries that I think are in place within my life. We can move beyond what we believe is the edge. I have done it before, and I may find that I'll do it again. Limits are, I think, imaginary shelters, constructed from our personal histories, built to protect us from dangers that only exist in some unknowable future.

swan

About Slavery and Ownership

My friend, Sara, is endlessly curious about the variety of power exchange dynamics. How people see their dynamics, and the words they use to describe that perceived reality are topics that seem to fascinate her. She and I engaged in an interesting and enjoyable conversation about BDSM and Domestic Discipline awhile ago, and now she is asking some similar questions with regard to Chloe's lifestyle dynamic. Sara wrote:

For me, and I believe for all of us, it comes back to the question of “Who am I?” I am interested in looking at other people, women in particular, I think because it ends up helping me see myself more clearly. I could not begin to think of myself as a “slave” as a “pet” and yet I would say I am his as he is mine. That last bit works for me. In truth, I don’t see myself as a submissive either. (I know it is not a noun, but humor me, please). Some women in D/s relationships see themselves as fundamentally “submissive”. I see myself as a complex woman with many qualities of all sorts, who does feel some satisfaction (and also challenge) in fitting herself into harmony with a man she loves, who is more dominant than not in personality. For me, for us, the spanking and any other BDSM-ish activity we might engage in fall into the category of sexual interest and play. Does it cross over into relationship and power dynamic? Of course! I don’t think we can slice ourselves or our relationships up into fixed parts. Everything crosses over and touches everything else, but if we do pin it down, as we must to look at it, that is how I see things…at least for today.


"I am His and He is mine..."

That bit that Sara wrote, may hold within it the essential kernel that makes her dynamic different from mine. I won't even pretend to speak for anyone else (you can all do that for yourselves if you like).


"I am His and He is mine," paints a picture of something far more mutual and egalitarian than the deliberately and consciously unequal relationship dynamic that I embrace...


I am surely His in every possible way, but He is truly not "mine" in the sense that we tend to understand that within our social lexicon of loving relationships.


I love Him. I serve Him. I obey Him. I seek to please Him. He is my life and my dreaming and the fulfillment of my existence.


He loves me, cherishes me, rejoices in the fact of my presence in His life. He does not belong to me as I belong to Him. He has a complete autonomy that only falls to Him -- not to me. He does care for me with deep passion, and I believe that He wants me to be happy, however He doesn't feel that He is responsible for making me happy. That is particularly true in situations where what He wants runs contrary to what I might want or feel would work to make me happy. In that event, I might end up feeling unhappy, and He'd be OK with that. I can easily imagine circumstances where that would absolutely be the way things would work.


For us, ownership is a unilateral reality. He owns. I am owned. Property does not dictate terms or make demands. Even the fact of feeling unhappy or unsatisfied is a limited sort of option for me, should it come down to it. He'll indulge that for a time, but will determine when it should be no longer an impact in His presence. That is the way of it.

I can have my say. I do not have a vote.

Slavery, the way I live it, is hard to show to people who throw up extreme eventualities that frighten us all. For me, the mundane potentials are the ones that are more telling. For me, the most frightening prospect is that He might withdraw the affection that I now enjoy(for whatever reason) -- and still hold me as His. That could come about in any number of circumstances, and I imagine it would be an unimaginable torment. But He is not mine. I can hope it never comes to that. I can cast my spells, and pray my prayers, and make all sorts of desperate deals with the universe, but I cannot control or change the way He will choose and or act as life comes to Him and us. Whatever happens, He is and will always be Master, and I am His always and all ways.

swan

Lost in the Fog

I got lost on my way to school this morning. A route I've driven hundreds of times, was as opaque to me as the metal doors of the car I was driving. Before I knew it, I was headed in exactly the opposite direction from where I needed to be.



Blame it on endorphins. Wickipedia explains that endorphins are endogenous opioid polypeptide compounds. They are produced by the pituitary gland and the hypothalamus in vertebrates during strenuous exercise, excitement, pain, and orgasm, and they resemble the opiates in their abilities to produce analgesia and a sense of well-being. Endorphins work as "natural pain relievers", whose effects may be enhanced by other medications.



It is generally understood, within the BDSM community, that one of the effects of heavy BDSM play is an elevation in the levels of endorphins in the blood stream. It is this natural physiologic response to pain that allows some to process pain in ways that we might not typically expect under other circumstances. I am sure, that following the session in the dungeon on Friday night, my system was entirely awash in endorphins.



I do not know the half-life on naturally produced endorphins. I only know that still today, I am fuzzy headed and loopy and feeling completely out of focus -- lost in the fog still. I am remembering that after both of my abdominal surgeries, I was banned from driving until I'd been off of all pain medications for at least 24 hours. There was a clear expectation that I was not capable of managing the operation of an automobile under the influence of the drugs. Perhaps we ought to begin to pay attention to the fact that a recently beaten bottom partner may be similarly impaired for a good long while.



swan

BDSM Conference Reflections

We are home after the Winter Wickedness experience. We attended one workshop Saturday about how to Top as a Shaman (or such) facilitated by a young woman who aspires to be Miss Leather USA or some similar title. We went out to dinner at a very upscale restaurant and had the most wonderful (and extravagantly expensive) restaurant experience.....I think perhaps ever. We savored every bite and the food was as superlative as the bill was extravagant. BTW, half way through the dinner our waitress asked if we were attending "the conference." It became clear she knew exactly which conference we were attending when she shared she had a gay friend who was very involved in the local chapter of NLA. When we left we told her we were going back for t to do her shift as dungeon monitor, and that when that was done we would play. She commented, "Now there's something I don't hear every night:)" We found when we did get to the dungeon we lacked energy just as extremely as we had felt hugely energized Friday night. We didn't play, returned to the room and were in bed by a very civilized 11:30 PM. How do you know when you are aging in "the Life?" It is when you sit in a dungeon watching people, all of whom are younger than you, play, and the second night, you decide you need your sleep more than a trip to the St Andrew's cross:)

I have numerous thoughts, reactions, and observations about the experience, and want to document them before I lose them. I feel a little like when I underwent Jungian dream analysis and had to write down my dreams on a notepad as soon as I awakened so that I didn't lose them.

This conference was well planned, executed, and attended (about 400 attendees -- I suspect the largest turn out for one of these in Ohio to date.) From what I hear many other conferences have struggled recently due to the economy. This one thrived despite the current economic environment. They managed the "crisis" created by the right wing Christian nuts well. NCSF was a great resource in providing expertise in media relations and other technical assistance in that regard. There was a conference in D. C. at the time of the Presidential Inauguration. The same right wing organization that went after closing down Winter Wickedness "exposed" it. It was cancelled. The Winter Wickedness organizers and the BDSM community succeeded in thwarting and surviving their assault when other conferences have failed.

There were many younger people at this conference, and a few with obvious disabilities, and several African Americans. For years young people at these conferences (and often newbies) were in their early forties. It is wonderful to see dozens of people in their twenties and thirties attending and participating. I think this is a very healthy development for our community.

The BDSM community continues to be the great refuge of the morbidly obese. I would venture a guess that 50% of conference participants had BMI's of 3 or higher (including t and I of course.)with some in the 4 and 5 range. I am likely more sensitive to this because of our upcoming surgeries. It is always good to see though, that these are people who accept themselves for who they are, are active, very much leading healthy sensual erotic lives, and generally having fun and feeling good about themselves.

It is increasingly difficult to be "lectured" in classes about the how to's of The Life or BDSM practice by people who were likely in their Junior year of high school when we began in The Life. That one class we attended was like that. The future Miss Leather America summed up her input for us with "I'm really pretty lazy. I really wouldn't spend two hours beating someone unless it was going to end in our both having this wonderful warm feeling of intimacy and union when it is over." (I know I used quotes, but that is really a paraphrase). The class should have been named, "Service Topping 101 with a Neo-Pagan twist." It was clear many of the newer and younger folks were sucking up this wisdom and taking it to heart so they too could do it "right." The presenter explained this was based on her extensive (11 years) experience as a switch, but that in "all that time" she still had things to learn. Well damn -- eleven years huh! If it takes you two hours to beat them you are likely doing something a little wrong unless you are really attempting to have some sort of BDSM marathon. If I beat you it will be because I enjoy beating you. I may feel that it is also important to me for you to come out of it feeling good. I may feel it is important for you to come out of our session feeling really punished. If we wind up with us both feeling tremendously bonded, connected, flying, at one with each other, in subspace/Topspace, and on and on.........well that's icing on the cake. But I enjoy the hell out of beating you. If not I wouldn't do it. Sometimes I enjoy it more if you really hate it. The S in BDSM stands for sadism. It refers to someone who enjoys inflicting pain on others!

She also talked a lot about the creation of "sacred space." This whole sacred sexuality thing has gotten to be a huge topic of group think in the community in the last few years. Now often I find myself just shutting off when folks go into the sacred space thing. She described a number of practices that make absolute sense in terms of setting up a scene........practices which have been practiced by men and women (or same sex partners) forever. It used to be called something like preliminary foreplay. Now lo and behold, it is called creating the sacred space. According to our "guru," one of the most critical aspects of this is ritually expressing the intentionality of your scene in preparing for it. I joked as we discussed this last night, that at the next conference we attend I am going to get some knee-high rubber waders, and when we identify the play station we are going to use, while t gets swan ready and unpacks the toy bag etc., I will put on my new "sacred space boundary setting rubber wading boots" and goose step about the perimeter of our station....perhaps three times in each direction, and then stop at the four corners of the compass and do Tarzan Chest Thumping and yelling. Then all the good energy will be there with us and we can proceed to play in our sacred fucking space.

Years ago I attended a conference and there was a BDSM 101 class there and someone was waxing eloquent as he explained to the relative novitiate practitioners there the huge value of post session "after care." There was a very much older practitioner there, who had attended I suspect, to see what it was that went on in BDSM 101 classes. During most of his time in "The Life," there would have been no conference ergo no BDSM 101 classes. If you learned the life in his experience it was via the school of hard knocks.....well..uh hard spanks and lashes. At the end he looked bemused, and said, that in his practice, after care was when you let the submissive out of restraint and said, "Clean this shit up, bitch." The generational evolution of the BDSM community and practice continues. I am getting to have been at this long enough to perceive the evolutionary changes.

In that regard, the play at this conference was way different. The last few years in the dungeons it has seemed like 50% to 2/3 of the play was single tail flogging. There were almost no single tails to be seen and none on sale in the vendors' area. There also was a minimum of spanking / paddling related play, whereas in the past that has certainly been the majority of play. Play has become more erotic/sensual touch, electro-torture, and flogger play. Although among the flogger players the whole Florentine Flogging craze seemed to have passed as well. There were people with one flogger or two but few using Florentine technique.

The evolutionary trend toward stand & model SM continues. The first night we watched a truly lovely young couple come into the dungeon. She could have been a fashion model, and was wearing about $500.00 of the finest dungeon fetish fashion wear. She looked like she was right off the cover of J. T.s Stockroom Catalog. She had a handsome young man in tow, whom she hooked up to a St. Andrew's Cross amidst a good bit of folderol (likely creating sacred space). She then proceeded to caress and fondle his back for about an hour and a half amidst at times hugging him, grinding her body against his, and occasionally (very occasionally) rearing back with her hand and in slow motion landing a pretend (likely sacred) spank on his ass. She would stop occasionally and literally pose (variously) for a while, so everyone could benefit from her loveliness and her performance. Nearby there was a guy who had an attractive young woman tied to a rack with a lot of chain on it. He was flogging her very slowly with what appeared likely to be an elk flogger. Each time he would hit her (maybe once a minute) she would scream an agonized shriek and writhe back and forth for 30 seconds or so before settling down to quiet whimpering and cringing. If you have ever been hit with an elk flogger you know it is virtually all thud, no sting, and well..........I just wonder what's wrong with these kids today:)

One of my great recollections of this event will be that my lovely Teresa played dungeon monitor wearing her killer rabbit slippers that we purchased when we attended Spamalot. She had people laughing all over the place at this D. M. with her killer rabbit slippers. With all this current stuff about play being a quasi-religious service of some sort, it was great to have her demonstrating that she was having fun...frivolity.

I loved our play the first night. The first night, the energy was infectious (hmmmmm.........I wonder if it was sacred?) We'd all had long days and had not gotten into our room in the hotel until 10:00. We almost just went to bed but then decided to go look at what was going on. We were in the dungeon for about a half hour before I knew I just had to beat swan. I sent her back to our room (no short distance) to fetch our quite heavy toy bag. She returned and, magically, the perfect play space opened before us. t and swan herself participated in restraining her on the cross, and we had a quite intense session with multiple implements, with swan in tears, and taking it all wonderfully. She still bears a good bit of marking from that play (which took a good bit less than two hours.) She wound up somewhat drained, and a good bit loopy, signifying there was some endorphin intoxication that had been achieved as well:) Throughout her sister-heart, t had supported her, fetched me implements, gotten her aftercare supplies, and collected implements and repacked the toybag. They were both excellent as they could have been, and we went off to bed pleasantly relaxed, connected, and proud as a family at where we are in our place in The Life.

We fully understood the need for the black polyurethane that covered all windows in the hotel and the rule that all drapes had to be closed at all times, considering the community stir and media attention the event had drawn. Hell, if this same flap had occurred regarding an event in Cincinnati, as fascist as the police and local prosecutors are, I suspect the event would have been raided and everyone hauled off to jail, whether charges could have been made to stick or not. On the other hand, some of the benefit of having the event moved to a nicer hotel, rather than the relative flea bags where previous Central Ohio events have been held, in terms of community self-concept, was lost in the need to have everything so carefully hidden. Hell, throughout the event we looked like folks in London during the blitz trying to make sure no light got out.

Oh yes and we/I bought toys. One of our all time favorite vendors is Leather by Danny. We have found his restraints to be the best there are, and to last a lifetime. He was there, as I think he has been at any BDSM event I've ever attended anywhere. I bought two unique lexan paddles he had: one translucent red, and the other opaque black with flame design etched into it. Then in his mark down box there was this leather strap. It is your classic 'warm-up strap." It is very well made of colorful leathers (Danny is a superb leather craftsman.) It looks imposing and has a great loud crack it makes when it is slapped. It imparts little pain. It is the kind of strap submissives and porn video producers just love. And then there was the find of the trip. One of the few restraints we've never acquired was a spreader bar. I've often thought about getting one but never have. They are often expensive and I didn't really know what I was getting. Lo and behold Danny went into a sales pitch about his latest and greatest new product........The Leather By Danny spreader bar. It is uniquely engineered to accommodate his ankle cuffs (good in that all of our cuffs are his) with original Magnetic pins that "jump magneticaqlly" into place, once you have hooked the D-ring on the restraint to the the bar. Then there was the deluxe model that can be adjusted to a variety of widths (out to quite wide). They are beautifully crafted out of wood. He had one in particular that was his proto-type that was made out of wood salvaged from an old building at Harvard University (Danny is a Bostonian.) We bought it. It was a prodigious investment -- $160.00, but way better than any spreader bar restraint we've ever seen. And Danny stands behind his stuff forever, although that's not difficult. His stuff lasts forever so far in our experience. Oh yeah I bought two three foot long grommeted restraint straps too. I just felt I needed more. I think Danny realized as we left how much we'd spent with him, and what good customers we'd been with him for many years. As we were leaving the vendor area, he came and found us and gave both t and swan lovely leather wrist bands stamped "slut." Now there's a vendor who just knows the sweetest thing to say to the ladies in his customer base:)

We went to this event with mixed feelings, a lot due to what we've been dealing with in our lives. During the event I found swan, who was pretty determined she wasn't going to like this before hand, singing and dancing and smiling. And I've told you how t had fun just blasting everyone with frivulous energy in the dungeon with her killer rabbits:)

In "sacredness:)"

Tom

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

After the Event

We are home. Unpacked and put away and set back up and relaxing here in our own home again. It feels good.

We had a really good time. I have to admit that I was surprised, as the weekend progressed, to find myself getting into it and enjoying it all. I didn't expect that to happen. The sense of well-being and pleasure that I discovered as we went along grew slowly in me, and I kept looking at it with some suspicion -- just unwilling to believe in it or trust it.

Really, it is important to acknowledge the hard work and vision of those who put this event together. It was spectacularly well done and I almost cannot conceive of the hours and hours and hours of time, the worry and stress, the willingness to take enormous personal and financial risks, and the incredible indomitable optimism and determination that went into making it a reality. Mostly, that energy and drive comes from Barack and Sheba and their cohort of great, dedicated folks. So... hat's off to them all.

Alongside the sense of being happy and content to just be home, there is a coutervailing part of me that wishes that there were a way to host this kind of event over a longer span of time. The two-day, weekend format is exhausting and over with just as I'm beginning to get relaxed and into it all... It takes me a while to decompress from the outside life I live, and the intensity of getting ready to get to something like this. I'm so wired up by the time we arrive that it is nearly impossible for me to simply flip the switch and BE there. I have to slide into it a bit at a time -- something akin to gently easing into a cool pool. It feels to me like I barely reach the point of swimming happily and it is time to pack it all up and haul it home again. If I weren't always totally exhausted by that point, I might work myself into a full on temper tantrum at the unfairness of it all. Sigh.

Now, I have to admit that, especially this time, part of the "slow start" for me was that I truly was not in a good headspace about even going to this thing. I was entirely grumpy and just not able to get excited about the prospect. That was built up out of all sorts of things, some of them real and some of them made up from whole cloth in my ornery psyche. Here's the dismal, moaning internal monologue that I was engaged in before we took off -- best read in your very best imitation of Eyore's voice (no wonder I wasn't excited about going!):

I am a total and complete wimpy masochist, unable to play at anywhere near the level I used to do. I'll embarras Master. I'll embarras myself. The whole dungeon will turn around at the moment that I start shrieking and point and laugh...

I'm old and fat and saggy and ugly and I know -- KNOW -- that everyone else at this thing will be 23, young, perky, nubile, hawt, and horny. I will look and feel like the big, gawky, awkward geek I was in the 8th grade, and there is absolutely nothing I hate worse than feeling like that.

I don't want to meet new people. I don't like people. People suck! These people all know each other and like each other and are all wrapped up with each other. There's really no way into the "in" crowd at one of these things, so why bother?

Who am I kidding? I haven't worn my collar since Thanksgiving, and no one notices one way or another. This is going to feel like some sort of stupid "dress up" game.

I'm not going to pack any of that stupid, fetted-out, slutty dungeon attire. He doesn't care anyway, and it is fucking February -- the place will be cold and miserable, so why bother just so I can freeze my ass off the whole weekend?


Besides, we'll probably get there and we won't even GO to the dungeon. He's gotten way tired and bored with spanking me. Heck -- I got presents and flowers for my birthday, but no birthday spanking. That's never happened in all the years we've been together. What more proof do you need?

None of that silliness was anywhere near the truth of things as they really are or as they really transpired...


The reality is that, we did play in the dungeon, and I wasn't nearly as wimpy as I was afraid I might be. I'm sporting some pretty spectacular bruises, and no one pointed or laughed. We are, all of us, older than some of those who attended Winter Wickedness, but we are not at all "the oldest" attendees. Physically, we are definitely not fashion model gorgeous, but then again, we are also not nearly as heavy, saggy, or odd looking as many others there. The diversity in terms of age, gender identity, family configuration, physical abilities, etc. was really pretty amazing. In the end, it turns out that in that place, it really doesn't matter about age or size or physical beauty. We are there creating something unique and rare together as a community, and the oddest looking ones among us start to look like family by the time the weekend ends. I told Him, as I was packing to leave, that I didn't plan to pack any of that stupid dungeon wear, and He was shocked and appalled. Just the look on His face was enough to change my mind and send me scurrying to rectify that misjudgement. I was glad, in the event, that I had something "suitable" to wear into the dungeon Saturday night. And, I DID wear my collar for this outing -- and it felt good to have it back on. I don't know what gets into my head when I stop wearing it. I know that I get convinced that it isn't something that anyone cares about but me, and that putting it on and taking it off is just a bit of silly posturing that doesn't mean anything. Even if it were true that no one cares but me, maybe I need to learn that if I care, that is good enough. Finally, He was excited and proud to have me there in the dungeon. He wrote in His commments from the event: "I was hugely proud of my swan as she bottomed during our session." He played with me in precisely the way He used to do, and though I struggled to process the intensity of the sensations, I was thrilled and proud to be His. I know that I slept very well after we played, easier in my mind for all the aches and bruises.

So. Another BDSM event. I have mixed feelings.

I am feeling good about my own experiences and my own learning and growth. I am thrilled to have had the time away with the family. At the same time, I am troubled by aspects of the weekend.

Part of the intent in the staging of this event was to step up a notch or two and take a BDSM event to a nice venue. It was supposed to be an affirmation that we are not bad people and that we deserve to be accommodated just as any other group might be. I don't know for sure, but I think the organizers were sincerely trying to respond to comments that we made here after attending COPE in 2007. Certainly, the hotel venue was nicer than what we've experienced before. Sadly, the difficulties created by the nasty vitriol spewed out by the Christian wing-nuts who opposed our being there, forced some pretty dismal reactions that sent a clear message -- we aren't "good" enough to be able to meet here -- we have to hide or we'll be attacked.

I am unsettled in my mind about the implications of the "blacked out" windows and the extreme security measures. I know they kept us safe from the molestations of those who would judge and harrass and seek to deprive us of our rights. Still, I wonder why it is that an Elks convention or a gathering of the Rotary Club isn't forced to cover all the windows and post security guards at the doors. Why are such as these not subjected to inspections by the fire marshall and the health department and the police? I know from my own business/corporate convention experiences that there is ample lewd and lasviscious behavior at such gatherings. What makes "whoring around" with the Shriner's somehow more pure and virtuous than a bunch of us gathering to deliberately and intentionally explore our eroticism and orientations in a consensual and safe setting?

I am thrilled that our family was able to enjoy the delights of a really fine restaurant meal experience together -- a huge splurge that was quite the treat. We ate well, and were treated delightfully by the wait staff, who very quickly tumbled to who we were and were open and honestly curious about our experiences. On the other hand, it distresses me that so many others opted for the hotel buffet, or pizza delivery rather than risk being "seen" and possibly harrassed out in public. Why shouldn't we all have been able to go out for a fine meal together without fear of reprisal or discrimination?

I don't know the answers. Surely, we didn't want any trouble for ourselves, personally, in connection with our attendance at Winter Wickedness. We would have been damaged had we been identified publicly as participants there, or if the place had been raided, and we'd been arrested. We live our lives caught in between the "vanilla" world where we work and make our livings, and the "kinky" world where we express our erotic and sensual reality. It angers me that the social conventions are so narrow as to banish us to the dark corners and the hidden, stolen weekend gatherings. That anger does not diminish and it never goes away. I don't know how to bring about the change that would allow "people like us" to live as full citizens in this society, but I'm clear that this will never be a just society until that day comes.

swan