Retrospective -- February, 2009

A look back at February, 2009 --

There is so much potential good that can reasonably be expected to come out of all of this, but I keep running into the dark corners in my mind where terrible, unspeakable, scarcely imagined disasters happen as we go through this, and it is almost more than I can bear * * * "prickly" seems to be the best word I can think of to describe our relatedness these days * * * weekend "kink" events are a place where we've always gone as a way to immerse ourselves in "our" culture -- to refresh and renew and really relax in a setting where we do not have to pretend or hide. This time, however, there's trouble brewing in Paradise. A radical, right-wing, religious group has learned the details of the event, and they are making a fuss with the host hotel, and working hard to stir up the community to oppose our right to gather and enjoy our time with one another * * * It is interesting to note that once again Christians, historical victims of persecution and discrimination, are doing their darnedest to prevent people who choose to live lives outside of the precepts of the myth they base their lives on the right to have a self-determined existence * * * To their credit, the more mainstream media seems to have determined that we are not a story and gone on to cover the news * * * 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 * * * 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 * * * 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 * * * 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 * * * 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 * * * 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." * * * Here are my loves, celebrating with a festive breakfast * * * 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 * * * 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 * * * 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 * * * It just made me giggle. If you haven't heard it or seen it, here is the Zain Verjee report on "PEANUTS." * * * 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. * * * 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." * * * 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 * * * 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... * * * 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 * * * the "friendship blogger" award * * * 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 * * * 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