Greengirl pointed to an interesting piece on National Public Radio... some young college student asked older readers of her blog to write letters to themselves at the age of 20. I've been contemplating what I'd say to myself if I were able to write such a letter, and I'm thinking that my advice would likely be pretty blunt, and probably not nearly as inspiring as most of what I was able to find related to this conversation.
That young woman that was me 35 years ago was hell bent on entering into a marriage with a young man who she deemed "safe." That safety thing was a driving force for her back then, and because she was young and inexperienced and naive, she had no idea what she would have to trade for the illusion of safety.
If I could talk to her, I'd tell her to turn away from the possibility of living life in safety, and stay open to the possibility that life could be rich and full and exciting. I'd tell her that, whatever she'd been told to the contrary, there is very little in life that isn't about sex and power and being fully present in these bodies we've been given. I'd tell her not to waste her time with that poor, limited, broken, safe looking boy. Instead, I'd tell her to pack a (very light) bag and strike out looking for adventure and fulfillment and pure, deep, honest, open, vulnerable connection. I'd send her heading off in search of the wild-eyed young revolutionary that I didn't find until we were both well past our youth. I'd tell her to eat great interesting foods; drink something more exciting than strawberry daquiris, fuck a whole lot more, take a chance on those hallucinogenic substances that she so assiduously avoided, dance and party and sing and fight and march and believe that the world could change just because she was willing to work to make that change happen.
If I could talk to that version of me, I'd tell her to be less afraid. I'd tell her to dream big dreams, and I'd tell her that it was important to nurture those dreams and give them life.
I know that, if she had made those kinds of choices, then things would have been different for me. I know that perhaps that set of choices would have meant I'd not have been "Mom" to the two children I bore -- although I'm betting that the karma we share would have brought us around together somewhere and somehow. I know I'd have been drawn away from my beloved mountains -- and maybe never been able to find my way back. I know I'd have learned different lessons, and traveled different paths. I know there would have been other joys and different sorrows. I don't know what my life would look like today if she'd been braver and wilder and more free -- but I'd be willing to take the chance that she'd have made an interesting life out of that path, and oh my what a glorious dance that might have been. Who knows, perhaps somewhere she's walking that path parallel to the one I did choose. Could we someday connect, cross paths and share notes? How awesome would that turn out to be?
swan
7/10/2010
7/08/2010
Spanking as...
We often spank before sex. Master is sadistic, and spanking turns Him on, so the juxtaposition of spanking and fucking is just sort of the natural way things are. It makes sense.
I have, as I've worked my way through these post-hysterectomy years, come to think of spanking in just that way -- as a prelude to sex. It has remained, for me, the only pathway to sexual release. I just don't seem to respond very intensely or reliably to "vanilla" intercourse. Too, when I masturbate, the images in my head are almost always of pain and control and submission.
So sadomasochistic play has pretty much come to equal sex, and that is good with me. I figured that was pretty much the way of things, and I've not spent a lot of time contemplating the ins and outs (interesting pun that) and finer points of all of that.
Yesterday afternoon, though, He and I played together and it was different -- at least from my perspective. He had me over His knee, and He had His usual collection of straps and paddles. He began a bit more slowly than is usual, and I'd been wanting Him to spank me, so I was "in the mood." Still, for me, spanking usually just hurts in the beginning. Sometimes, or maybe even most times, it just hurts all the way through. I get my "goodie" out of something besides the pain... It's complicated.
Yesterday, I was working my way along that beginning battle with the pain, when I suddenly noticed that He was rubbing me, and stroking me, and scratching me -- and it felt good! It surprised me. It is not the usual way of things. He kept on playing with me, alternating between pain and pleasure, and I was simply enchanted. No panic. No anger. No frustration. No sense of injustice. I was able to catch up and catch on and just go along with whatever He was doing, and it was as if every single sensation was a single thing... There was no past to be angry about and no future to be afraid of. There was only this one moment, and this one feeling. And then the next. And the next. And.
When He finished, with all the paddles and all the straps; when He tapped me on the shoulder as He usually does to signal me that the session was ended, I was surprised; almost startled. I kissed the paddle, and thanked Him for my spanking, and laid there across His lap trying to find my way back to the "real world."
We got up and headed into the bedroom, and we made love. It was more than just sex. It was love making, and I felt good and relaxed and alive and completely connected to Him. Almost from the very first, I could feel the heat rising in me, and it wasn't long before I reached that oh-so-rare orgasm. He was right behind me, and we giggled together like a couple of happy children.
Later, as we talked about what had happened, He said something about it seeming to go better -- maybe because there had been some decent foreplay. FOREPLAY!?! The word stunned me. I just hadn't thought about it in those terms. I hadn't considered that spanking could work for us, for me, as foreplay. I've been going along figuring that foreplay was some foreign, mythical thing that was for other people. But there it was... foreplay. Us. Wow. Perhaps having that word in the mix; knowing that it isn't just spanking before sex, but spanking as foreplay can work that magic spell again. Mmmmmmmm.
swan
I have, as I've worked my way through these post-hysterectomy years, come to think of spanking in just that way -- as a prelude to sex. It has remained, for me, the only pathway to sexual release. I just don't seem to respond very intensely or reliably to "vanilla" intercourse. Too, when I masturbate, the images in my head are almost always of pain and control and submission.
So sadomasochistic play has pretty much come to equal sex, and that is good with me. I figured that was pretty much the way of things, and I've not spent a lot of time contemplating the ins and outs (interesting pun that) and finer points of all of that.
Yesterday afternoon, though, He and I played together and it was different -- at least from my perspective. He had me over His knee, and He had His usual collection of straps and paddles. He began a bit more slowly than is usual, and I'd been wanting Him to spank me, so I was "in the mood." Still, for me, spanking usually just hurts in the beginning. Sometimes, or maybe even most times, it just hurts all the way through. I get my "goodie" out of something besides the pain... It's complicated.
Yesterday, I was working my way along that beginning battle with the pain, when I suddenly noticed that He was rubbing me, and stroking me, and scratching me -- and it felt good! It surprised me. It is not the usual way of things. He kept on playing with me, alternating between pain and pleasure, and I was simply enchanted. No panic. No anger. No frustration. No sense of injustice. I was able to catch up and catch on and just go along with whatever He was doing, and it was as if every single sensation was a single thing... There was no past to be angry about and no future to be afraid of. There was only this one moment, and this one feeling. And then the next. And the next. And.
When He finished, with all the paddles and all the straps; when He tapped me on the shoulder as He usually does to signal me that the session was ended, I was surprised; almost startled. I kissed the paddle, and thanked Him for my spanking, and laid there across His lap trying to find my way back to the "real world."
We got up and headed into the bedroom, and we made love. It was more than just sex. It was love making, and I felt good and relaxed and alive and completely connected to Him. Almost from the very first, I could feel the heat rising in me, and it wasn't long before I reached that oh-so-rare orgasm. He was right behind me, and we giggled together like a couple of happy children.
Later, as we talked about what had happened, He said something about it seeming to go better -- maybe because there had been some decent foreplay. FOREPLAY!?! The word stunned me. I just hadn't thought about it in those terms. I hadn't considered that spanking could work for us, for me, as foreplay. I've been going along figuring that foreplay was some foreign, mythical thing that was for other people. But there it was... foreplay. Us. Wow. Perhaps having that word in the mix; knowing that it isn't just spanking before sex, but spanking as foreplay can work that magic spell again. Mmmmmmmm.
swan
7/07/2010
Baseball and Power Exchange
I have a long history with the great American pastime -- baseball... For those of our readers who do not enjoy the game, or understand the game, I apologize. This piece will be some combination of personal history and walk down memory lane and meditation on the conjunction of my power exchange relationship and that selfsame game -- baseball.
Baseball is, probably, in my genes. My father played minor league baseball in the years before World War II. He was a catcher, and I well remember that in his waning years he blamed his baseball years for some of the struggles he had with rheumatoid arthritis. Still, for all of that, my father's love of baseball came down to me. I learned it at his knee, practically as I learned to walk and talk.
As I grew up, totally in love with my Daddy, baseball was just part of the vocabulary that he and I shared. I was the oldest child in my family. Not one of the three younger brothers was ever interested in the game, and so my Dad lavished his love of the sport on the only one of his children who cared; who shared his fascination with the game.
I remember being in elementary school. We were gifted with a marvelous new technology -- the portable transistor radio. Every fall, as the World Series of baseball would come around, I'd gather on the playground at recess with great circles of my classmates. We'd listen intently to those tiny wonders that allowed us to listen to the games for those precious snatches of time, and be whisked away to wherever the boys of summer were battling it out. We were, of course, never allowed to listen to those little magical boxes during school time, but the playground was a free zone and the radios were such a link to a world that enchanted us for a space each fall.
During all those same school years, the springtime brought gifts of free baseball tickets for students who maintained "A" averages. Each spring, my pair of free tickets allowed me to go off to a Denver Bears baseball game with my Dad. We'd sit in the ballpark, and he'd explain to me about strikes and fouls, and double plays, and fly balls, and earned run averages, and batting averages, and all the arcane bits and pieces of baseball as religion.
My one (yes, ONE) high school crush was on a handsome, lanky, sharp faced baseball player. His name was Mike Evans, and I was head over heels in love with the boy. He never knew I was alive. I went, faithfully, to every single game through all the last three years of my high school career. Sitting in the hot sun on Saturday afternoons, watching the beautiful boy play ball. I got sunburnt, week after week, all for naught. I was rejected by the guy I thought I loved, but never the game. The game remained as pure and unsullied as it ever was; even in the face of unrequited love.
When I grew to adulthood, I hoped to pass on my love of baseball to my children. Our young family was always struggling to make ends meet, but we could purchase tickets to watch the renamed Denver Zephyrs baseball team for $2.00 per seat. A bag of peanuts cost us another dollar. It was inexpensive entertainment, and so another generation of the family was indoctrinated into the esoteric world of baseball.
When I look back over all of that long, long association with the sport, it seems somehow prophetic to me. My life now revolves, from May to October each year, around the Cincinnati Reds. Unlike football, which is a weekend occupation, baseball perfuses through the entire season. They play 162 games, and there is rarely a night when there is not a game. From opening day until the last game of the World Series, He watches baseball. We don't go out, we don't make plans, we don't schedule social engagements without first considering the baseball schedule. He loves football, but baseball becomes the obsession -- win or lose, the game enthralls Him, captures Him ... and so, by extension, captures me.
I watch baseball with Him. I talk baseball with Him. I listen to Him rant when they lose, and I join Him in the giddy, hopeful, almost mystical fervor of rejoicing when they win. Early in my association with Master, I sometimes fussed about how much time baseball took up in our world. Quietly... However, as our time has gone on together, I've come to understand that I spent a lifetime preparing to share His love of the game. Is there a power exchange component to the absolutely insistent committment to watching every single game; to my acquiescence to that routine and regimen? Perhaps. It doesn't feel onerous to me. Does bowing to the power dynamic require that it feel difficult? I don't think so. Would I watch every game left to my own devices? Probably not. I love the game, but I'm not that intent about it. On the other hand, my watching it with Him makes Him happy and that seems just fine to me.
swan
As I grew up, totally in love with my Daddy, baseball was just part of the vocabulary that he and I shared. I was the oldest child in my family. Not one of the three younger brothers was ever interested in the game, and so my Dad lavished his love of the sport on the only one of his children who cared; who shared his fascination with the game.
During all those same school years, the springtime brought gifts of free baseball tickets for students who maintained "A" averages. Each spring, my pair of free tickets allowed me to go off to a Denver Bears baseball game with my Dad. We'd sit in the ballpark, and he'd explain to me about strikes and fouls, and double plays, and fly balls, and earned run averages, and batting averages, and all the arcane bits and pieces of baseball as religion.
My one (yes, ONE) high school crush was on a handsome, lanky, sharp faced baseball player. His name was Mike Evans, and I was head over heels in love with the boy. He never knew I was alive. I went, faithfully, to every single game through all the last three years of my high school career. Sitting in the hot sun on Saturday afternoons, watching the beautiful boy play ball. I got sunburnt, week after week, all for naught. I was rejected by the guy I thought I loved, but never the game. The game remained as pure and unsullied as it ever was; even in the face of unrequited love.
When I grew to adulthood, I hoped to pass on my love of baseball to my children. Our young family was always struggling to make ends meet, but we could purchase tickets to watch the renamed Denver Zephyrs baseball team for $2.00 per seat. A bag of peanuts cost us another dollar. It was inexpensive entertainment, and so another generation of the family was indoctrinated into the esoteric world of baseball.
I watch baseball with Him. I talk baseball with Him. I listen to Him rant when they lose, and I join Him in the giddy, hopeful, almost mystical fervor of rejoicing when they win. Early in my association with Master, I sometimes fussed about how much time baseball took up in our world. Quietly... However, as our time has gone on together, I've come to understand that I spent a lifetime preparing to share His love of the game. Is there a power exchange component to the absolutely insistent committment to watching every single game; to my acquiescence to that routine and regimen? Perhaps. It doesn't feel onerous to me. Does bowing to the power dynamic require that it feel difficult? I don't think so. Would I watch every game left to my own devices? Probably not. I love the game, but I'm not that intent about it. On the other hand, my watching it with Him makes Him happy and that seems just fine to me.
swan
7/06/2010
You Are What You Are
We've had two comments on separate posts in the last couple of weeks -- one on the If a Tree Falls post, and the second on the post about How Do You Define Your Relationship?
The first, from greengirl, asked:
I realize that this is really a rhetorical question, but what you've written feeds into some other things I have been trying to think out recently: how does one come to the point of deciding that this is the path that is right? That what is fulfilling for you is "just slaving?" And that it will remain so?
And then there was this almost question from an anonymous commenter on Sunday:
I got some things to think about too. I'm in a new relationship, my first of this sort, ... I don't know weather to call myself Dom, Master, or Top, but I find it a little oxymoronic to be in the "in-charge" role in the relationship and be inexperienced...
As I have thought about those two bits, it occurs to me that they are really asking the same question from two different perspectives. From the Top and bottom sides of the power equation, it seems to me that both these commenters are trying to get to the question, "How can I tell who/what I am, and how do I know how I fit into relationships with regard to the inevitable power dynamics of intimacy?"
The simple answer, to both questions, as the title here implies, is that you are what you are. It can seem pretty complicated in the event, but the truth is that there really is no way for any of us to live our lives as something we aren't. Each of us comes, pre-programmed in a sense, with all of the traits and characteristics and preferences and natural inclinations that make us the unique person that we are. One of the biggest stumbling blocks that people encounter in the lifestyle, is that they become taken with a role or a personna, and then they try to assume that for themselves -- and quite often they try to impose some corollary role on their partner. When those facades are radically or notably "other" than what is natural and real for the individuals, it almost always ends badly.
So, to greengirl's questions: "how does one come to the point of deciding that this is the path that is right? That what is fulfilling for you is "just slaving?" And that it will remain so?" I don't think that there is an actual "decision" point. There is the work of coming to know, over time and with some significant personal work, who you really are. Some of us have the natural tendencies that fit us for living as slaves, and I do not use that description in the luridly sexualized sense that is common online. Those who are inclined this way, share some common habits and responses: they tend to be patient, good listeners, observers of other people, naturally quiet and introspective, able to live contentedly within themselves. Slaves are strong but also flexible. It requires courage to let go of those things that we assume are "essential" to our own freedom and personal happiness, and then follow a different path to being fulfilled. I think the natural slave thrives on bits of affirmation. The occasional word of praise or acknowledgement will take a slave a very long way, but a slave is a bit like a camel -- able to keep on even when there is nothing much available to quench the thirst. Slaves are self-contained, self-aware, self-directed, and self-disciplined. When they give control into the hands of another, they retain the capacity to manage themselves (as needed) both externally and internally. Slaves are the quintessential low maintenance partner.
If slaving is "right" for you, then it may show itself when the appropriate partner appears and allows that to be manifest. I don't believe it is possible to LEARN to be a slave, although it is surely possible to learn to slave for some particular person in some particular fashion. I don't think that everyone who has the requisite personality traits will find their way into living that sort of life. There are very few real slave types, just as there are very few opposite numbers to that personality type. Slaving only becomes the "right" path when it encounters the "right" partner who makes it safe to BE slave.
When that happens, it becomes fulfilling to "just slave." Not necessarily easy -- slaving is work, and can be dull, repetitive, boring, and frustrating. It can still be tremendously fulfilling. Think of those who famously have lived out who they are: however hard the work of writing a symphony, I imagine that for a Beethoven or a Bartok, that work was fulfilling. There are times when no one knows or notices or acknowledges the work of slaving; when it has to be sufficient to know for oneself what it is and what it is worth. For those who NEED external validation, slavery will never be fulfilling, and will never be the "right" path.
Just as it is true that the one who finds fulfillment as a slave is manifesting the essence of who they really are, the opposite number (the Master or Dominant) must likewise understand and know who they truly are. As Master made clear in His Is You Is or Is You Ain't post, dominance is a personality trait that cannot be learned. Our anonymous friend who wondered what to call himself: "I don't know weather to call myself Dom, Master, or Top, ... and be inexperienced," was pointing to a very common misconception. People tend to believe that Dominance comes from knowing how to swing a flogger, or how to tie a perfect rope harness, or managing to purchase the just so perfect leather pants and vest. It is the classic confusion about the difference between DOING and BEING. Dominance does not change with what the person is doing. Strength, power, intent, ability -- all of these may change with circumstances and time, but the inherent propensity to control and be in charge of absolutely everything never seems to wane.
I've lived in intimate relationship to two men. My ex-husband had a number of fine qualities, but dominance was not one of them. It simply was not part of his personal way of being in the world. Master, on the other hand, has no move that is not Dominant. He manifests that personality in everything He is and everything He does. I think that in the deepest part of the night, when He is completely and utterly asleep, He remains, at some level, still in control... I think that there are people who find the true Dominant personality to be difficult. Dominants are people who never question their own judgement; who know that they are always right (even when they might be mistaken); who always know their own minds; who want what they want. Dominants can seem, hell they can be, self-absorbed. They are not particularly inclined to romance. They may be remarkably perceptive, but they often choose very deliberately which perceived reactions and responses they will respond to in others. A Dominant is the most amazingly secure and sure of human beings. It isn't learned. It is the absolutely "right" path for those who are IT.
swan
The first, from greengirl, asked:
I realize that this is really a rhetorical question, but what you've written feeds into some other things I have been trying to think out recently: how does one come to the point of deciding that this is the path that is right? That what is fulfilling for you is "just slaving?" And that it will remain so?
And then there was this almost question from an anonymous commenter on Sunday:
I got some things to think about too. I'm in a new relationship, my first of this sort, ... I don't know weather to call myself Dom, Master, or Top, but I find it a little oxymoronic to be in the "in-charge" role in the relationship and be inexperienced...
As I have thought about those two bits, it occurs to me that they are really asking the same question from two different perspectives. From the Top and bottom sides of the power equation, it seems to me that both these commenters are trying to get to the question, "How can I tell who/what I am, and how do I know how I fit into relationships with regard to the inevitable power dynamics of intimacy?"
The simple answer, to both questions, as the title here implies, is that you are what you are. It can seem pretty complicated in the event, but the truth is that there really is no way for any of us to live our lives as something we aren't. Each of us comes, pre-programmed in a sense, with all of the traits and characteristics and preferences and natural inclinations that make us the unique person that we are. One of the biggest stumbling blocks that people encounter in the lifestyle, is that they become taken with a role or a personna, and then they try to assume that for themselves -- and quite often they try to impose some corollary role on their partner. When those facades are radically or notably "other" than what is natural and real for the individuals, it almost always ends badly.
So, to greengirl's questions: "how does one come to the point of deciding that this is the path that is right? That what is fulfilling for you is "just slaving?" And that it will remain so?" I don't think that there is an actual "decision" point. There is the work of coming to know, over time and with some significant personal work, who you really are. Some of us have the natural tendencies that fit us for living as slaves, and I do not use that description in the luridly sexualized sense that is common online. Those who are inclined this way, share some common habits and responses: they tend to be patient, good listeners, observers of other people, naturally quiet and introspective, able to live contentedly within themselves. Slaves are strong but also flexible. It requires courage to let go of those things that we assume are "essential" to our own freedom and personal happiness, and then follow a different path to being fulfilled. I think the natural slave thrives on bits of affirmation. The occasional word of praise or acknowledgement will take a slave a very long way, but a slave is a bit like a camel -- able to keep on even when there is nothing much available to quench the thirst. Slaves are self-contained, self-aware, self-directed, and self-disciplined. When they give control into the hands of another, they retain the capacity to manage themselves (as needed) both externally and internally. Slaves are the quintessential low maintenance partner.
If slaving is "right" for you, then it may show itself when the appropriate partner appears and allows that to be manifest. I don't believe it is possible to LEARN to be a slave, although it is surely possible to learn to slave for some particular person in some particular fashion. I don't think that everyone who has the requisite personality traits will find their way into living that sort of life. There are very few real slave types, just as there are very few opposite numbers to that personality type. Slaving only becomes the "right" path when it encounters the "right" partner who makes it safe to BE slave.
When that happens, it becomes fulfilling to "just slave." Not necessarily easy -- slaving is work, and can be dull, repetitive, boring, and frustrating. It can still be tremendously fulfilling. Think of those who famously have lived out who they are: however hard the work of writing a symphony, I imagine that for a Beethoven or a Bartok, that work was fulfilling. There are times when no one knows or notices or acknowledges the work of slaving; when it has to be sufficient to know for oneself what it is and what it is worth. For those who NEED external validation, slavery will never be fulfilling, and will never be the "right" path.
Just as it is true that the one who finds fulfillment as a slave is manifesting the essence of who they really are, the opposite number (the Master or Dominant) must likewise understand and know who they truly are. As Master made clear in His Is You Is or Is You Ain't post, dominance is a personality trait that cannot be learned. Our anonymous friend who wondered what to call himself: "I don't know weather to call myself Dom, Master, or Top, ... and be inexperienced," was pointing to a very common misconception. People tend to believe that Dominance comes from knowing how to swing a flogger, or how to tie a perfect rope harness, or managing to purchase the just so perfect leather pants and vest. It is the classic confusion about the difference between DOING and BEING. Dominance does not change with what the person is doing. Strength, power, intent, ability -- all of these may change with circumstances and time, but the inherent propensity to control and be in charge of absolutely everything never seems to wane.
I've lived in intimate relationship to two men. My ex-husband had a number of fine qualities, but dominance was not one of them. It simply was not part of his personal way of being in the world. Master, on the other hand, has no move that is not Dominant. He manifests that personality in everything He is and everything He does. I think that in the deepest part of the night, when He is completely and utterly asleep, He remains, at some level, still in control... I think that there are people who find the true Dominant personality to be difficult. Dominants are people who never question their own judgement; who know that they are always right (even when they might be mistaken); who always know their own minds; who want what they want. Dominants can seem, hell they can be, self-absorbed. They are not particularly inclined to romance. They may be remarkably perceptive, but they often choose very deliberately which perceived reactions and responses they will respond to in others. A Dominant is the most amazingly secure and sure of human beings. It isn't learned. It is the absolutely "right" path for those who are IT.
swan
7/05/2010
Dominant -- "IS YOU IS, OR IS YOU AIN'T?"
One anonymous commenter to the last post observed:
My Anonymous friend, your comment is evocative, and I have some input for you about your feeling it is paradoxical to be Dominant and "new at it." Everyone of us has a starting point in actualizing this orientation. This is as trite as the classic, "We all were new once."
I well recall my early days of coming out into the BDSM community in reality. I too was very inexperienced, but I WAS DOMINANT. I've always been Dominant. I remember laughing when I was recently reunited with a cousin who had been a playmate when I was a young boy. She told me her memories of she and me included that when we played we always had to do things the way I wanted them.
You see, I have learned that either you are Dominant or you are not. If you are, you cannot prevent yourself from Dominating. If you are not it is not a skill you can be taught. Dominance is a personality style. It is, if you have it, your character. Like all traits it can be a true asset and simultaneously a burden. Being in control all the time is very exhausting. I know for me the only thing that is more draining is my not being in control.
I have had the experience sadly, of watching a number of relationships in which a submissive woman and a husband who was not Dominant try to forge a D/s relationship where he was trying to "learn" to be Dominant to please his partner. Now there is a paradox. If you are dominating to please your woman, it is she who is the Dominant partner -- not you. Most of these relationships have unfortunately dissolved in break-ups or divorce. My swan's marriage ended just like that. It was like watching a slow motion train wreck as they both came to recognize their needs and personalities were inherently mismatched, and always had been.
Dominants are secure in their identities. I think the ultimate expression of a secure Dominant is the ability to switch and play from the position of bottom partner. Not only is switching useful in learning to empathize with SM activities when you are playing in your normal role as Top, but learning to bottom and realizing that, even then, you are still Dominant leads to realization of just how deeply your Dominance is rooted.
Certainly there are things one learns along the way. You can be taught technical aspects of various forms of SM play. You can learn the lexicon of words, labels, titles and protocols that are common in the community. You can learn how to cane or whip someone safely and effectively. There are many learning's in this life.
There is no shame in not having yet had those learning experiences and, by the way, the path to learning all the aspects of this life, is wonderfully fulfilling.
It is however not oxymoronic to be inexperienced and Dominant. If you are Dominant, you are Dominant. You will be that. You will not be able to be anything else. If you are not Dominant, no amount of knowledge will make you so. On the other hand, if you are, more information will simply enrich and enhance your life.
All the best,
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.
I got some things to think about too. I'm in a new relationship, my first of
this sort, and I have not yet attended any sort of event or become part of the
scene. I don't know weather to call myself Dom, Master, or Top, but I find it a
little oxymoronic to be in the "in-charge" role in the relationship and be
inexperienced. For now, what we're doing is working, and we are both exploring
the possibilities and loving it, and the labels are less important., but this is
good food for thought.
My Anonymous friend, your comment is evocative, and I have some input for you about your feeling it is paradoxical to be Dominant and "new at it." Everyone of us has a starting point in actualizing this orientation. This is as trite as the classic, "We all were new once."
I well recall my early days of coming out into the BDSM community in reality. I too was very inexperienced, but I WAS DOMINANT. I've always been Dominant. I remember laughing when I was recently reunited with a cousin who had been a playmate when I was a young boy. She told me her memories of she and me included that when we played we always had to do things the way I wanted them.
You see, I have learned that either you are Dominant or you are not. If you are, you cannot prevent yourself from Dominating. If you are not it is not a skill you can be taught. Dominance is a personality style. It is, if you have it, your character. Like all traits it can be a true asset and simultaneously a burden. Being in control all the time is very exhausting. I know for me the only thing that is more draining is my not being in control.
I have had the experience sadly, of watching a number of relationships in which a submissive woman and a husband who was not Dominant try to forge a D/s relationship where he was trying to "learn" to be Dominant to please his partner. Now there is a paradox. If you are dominating to please your woman, it is she who is the Dominant partner -- not you. Most of these relationships have unfortunately dissolved in break-ups or divorce. My swan's marriage ended just like that. It was like watching a slow motion train wreck as they both came to recognize their needs and personalities were inherently mismatched, and always had been.
Dominants are secure in their identities. I think the ultimate expression of a secure Dominant is the ability to switch and play from the position of bottom partner. Not only is switching useful in learning to empathize with SM activities when you are playing in your normal role as Top, but learning to bottom and realizing that, even then, you are still Dominant leads to realization of just how deeply your Dominance is rooted.
Certainly there are things one learns along the way. You can be taught technical aspects of various forms of SM play. You can learn the lexicon of words, labels, titles and protocols that are common in the community. You can learn how to cane or whip someone safely and effectively. There are many learning's in this life.
There is no shame in not having yet had those learning experiences and, by the way, the path to learning all the aspects of this life, is wonderfully fulfilling.
It is however not oxymoronic to be inexperienced and Dominant. If you are Dominant, you are Dominant. You will be that. You will not be able to be anything else. If you are not Dominant, no amount of knowledge will make you so. On the other hand, if you are, more information will simply enrich and enhance your life.
All the best,
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.
7/04/2010
How Do You Define Your Relationship?
CarrieAnn wrote a piece recently that she called Risk. It is a thoughtful inside look at the balancing that happens within a long-term, committed relationship when it is based on power exchange. The white hot core of truth in what she wrote seems to me to be this:
Following up on thinking generated by that post, morningstar framed her recent relational transitions in the context of CarrieAnn's notion of the "one hurt too many" number that no one really knows is there until it is there. She wrote:
Between the two of them, and a whole collection of other bits and pieces I've gleaned from reading here and there, I've felt a bit baffled about the whole business of how we describe our relationships with one another -- and why. It seems a uniquely human sort of behavior. Other critters do not seem to worry about this. The robins outside my back door do not appear to have best friends. The bullfrogs out on the pond seem happy to advertise for available ladies each night, but I can't ascertain that there is any sort of going steady or dating or boyfriend/girlfriend action happening on the shores of my little bit of water. Even the ants, who during the summertime seem determined to mount daily sieges on my kitchen, manage to relate just fine without any wedding frippery or marriage licenses or legal documents to set them up as a limited liability corporation.
WE do this. We define every single distinct interaction, and we label them and name them, and we intend for others to understand precisely what it is that we mean when we call someone brother, aunt, mother-in-law, boss, cousin, child, wife, ex-husband, domestic partner, boyfriend, nephew, neighbor, friend, acquaintance, co-worker, pastor, therapist, personal trainer, stylist, doctor, etc. I imagine that the fact of the matter is that we only exist, for all practical purposes, in relationship. A single one of us without all of those connections is just about impossible to imagine, harder to describe, and likely to become, in very short order, totally crazy. The very worst possible thing we can do to another is to "put them in solitary confinement," and we have the almost apochryphal shared knowledge that our infants will die if we feed them and care for their physical needs but do not provide them with simple human contact.
Given our natural inclinations in this realm, it is not surprising that we get persnickety about our most intimate relationships. The labeling that we do in that context carries a weight of meaning and implication that, oddly, almost never makes things more clear and frequently ruffles our respective feathers. As talented as we are as makers of language, we burden our relational tags with so many demands that it is just about impossible to carry it all... So it is that we insist on the differentiators -- always with layers of meaning and intent (notice that our words describe status but also duration and authenticity): engaged, newlywed, married, widowed, divorced, single, co-habiting. We have ways to designate who is "legitimately" in a relationship, and who might be illicit. So we talk about wives, second wives, and trophy wives. There are men who we designate as players and scoundrels and cads ... and it is all about how they conduct their intimate relating. We retain the centuries old "mistress," even as we grow more and more accustomed to the fact that people do relate intimately outside of traditional marriages. I found one question, posted to some online site, where a young woman wondered what to call the male friend who she hung out with socially, "hooked up" with occasionally, liked but wasn't thinking of in terms of any sort of long-term sense... Was he, she wondered, a "friend with benefits, a fuck buddy, a boyfriend, a sex partner, ...?" Goodness!
With all of that, it gets even more complicated when, as happens in the lifestyle, we begin to want to be able to describe our relationships in terms of the various connections, but also in terms of the gender orientations and power dynamics involved. We have our own, esoteric lexicon to tell us who's who and what's what within our own ranks. So if you hang around the lifestyle for just a little bit, you will likely encounter people who are "into" Daddy/boy, Daddy/little girl, Owner/property, Dominance/submission, Top/bottom, Master/slave, HOH/surrendered wife, and I don't even know what all else. Some of us construct elaborate webs of interconnections within which we occupy a whole host of different roles in relationship to different partners. It is fairly common for people to suppose that there is some sort of hierachical pecking order to the various configurations. Hence we will talk as if there is something MORE valid about total power exchange relationships than those that are perhaps more negotiable. We'll insist that the 24/7 dynamic is better and more "real" than the one that happens in discreet time intervals with periodic separations. We'll compare, with great fervor, the relative merits of cyber and realtime relationships.
We seem to be absolutely convinced that there is "one true way." Most of us have some kind of idea in our minds about what constitutes a "good" or "correct" version of our kind of relating. We collect, socially and culturally, a whole set of intellectual baggage that tells us what our relationships "should be like." It makes me wonder how much better off we might all be if we could release our hold on the need to label, and simply find ourselves into the kind of relatedness that is "right" for us and our partners. Too, we'd be better off if we simply acknowledged that what is right today might not have been right five years ago -- or might not be right in a year from now.
We relate for all sorts of reasons, and we accomplish all kinds of things in the creation of our closest relationships. Maybe there is a more informative way to think about describing our relationships -- maybe it is possible to think in terms of what we GET out of our relationships, or hope to get out of them. Knowing that might tell us more than the labels we so commonly use. Consider:
The weight of giving yourself to someone is heavy.
The weight of owning someone can only be staggering.
Following up on thinking generated by that post, morningstar framed her recent relational transitions in the context of CarrieAnn's notion of the "one hurt too many" number that no one really knows is there until it is there. She wrote:
...I have been analyzing what ... really happened ... It is never easy ... to have absolute power over another human being ... hurt me guide me love me care for me ... When I open myself up to the total vulnerability of turning over...... the wrong kind of hurt can ... shut me down ... make me doubt ...
Between the two of them, and a whole collection of other bits and pieces I've gleaned from reading here and there, I've felt a bit baffled about the whole business of how we describe our relationships with one another -- and why. It seems a uniquely human sort of behavior. Other critters do not seem to worry about this. The robins outside my back door do not appear to have best friends. The bullfrogs out on the pond seem happy to advertise for available ladies each night, but I can't ascertain that there is any sort of going steady or dating or boyfriend/girlfriend action happening on the shores of my little bit of water. Even the ants, who during the summertime seem determined to mount daily sieges on my kitchen, manage to relate just fine without any wedding frippery or marriage licenses or legal documents to set them up as a limited liability corporation.
WE do this. We define every single distinct interaction, and we label them and name them, and we intend for others to understand precisely what it is that we mean when we call someone brother, aunt, mother-in-law, boss, cousin, child, wife, ex-husband, domestic partner, boyfriend, nephew, neighbor, friend, acquaintance, co-worker, pastor, therapist, personal trainer, stylist, doctor, etc. I imagine that the fact of the matter is that we only exist, for all practical purposes, in relationship. A single one of us without all of those connections is just about impossible to imagine, harder to describe, and likely to become, in very short order, totally crazy. The very worst possible thing we can do to another is to "put them in solitary confinement," and we have the almost apochryphal shared knowledge that our infants will die if we feed them and care for their physical needs but do not provide them with simple human contact.
Given our natural inclinations in this realm, it is not surprising that we get persnickety about our most intimate relationships. The labeling that we do in that context carries a weight of meaning and implication that, oddly, almost never makes things more clear and frequently ruffles our respective feathers. As talented as we are as makers of language, we burden our relational tags with so many demands that it is just about impossible to carry it all... So it is that we insist on the differentiators -- always with layers of meaning and intent (notice that our words describe status but also duration and authenticity): engaged, newlywed, married, widowed, divorced, single, co-habiting. We have ways to designate who is "legitimately" in a relationship, and who might be illicit. So we talk about wives, second wives, and trophy wives. There are men who we designate as players and scoundrels and cads ... and it is all about how they conduct their intimate relating. We retain the centuries old "mistress," even as we grow more and more accustomed to the fact that people do relate intimately outside of traditional marriages. I found one question, posted to some online site, where a young woman wondered what to call the male friend who she hung out with socially, "hooked up" with occasionally, liked but wasn't thinking of in terms of any sort of long-term sense... Was he, she wondered, a "friend with benefits, a fuck buddy, a boyfriend, a sex partner, ...?" Goodness!
With all of that, it gets even more complicated when, as happens in the lifestyle, we begin to want to be able to describe our relationships in terms of the various connections, but also in terms of the gender orientations and power dynamics involved. We have our own, esoteric lexicon to tell us who's who and what's what within our own ranks. So if you hang around the lifestyle for just a little bit, you will likely encounter people who are "into" Daddy/boy, Daddy/little girl, Owner/property, Dominance/submission, Top/bottom, Master/slave, HOH/surrendered wife, and I don't even know what all else. Some of us construct elaborate webs of interconnections within which we occupy a whole host of different roles in relationship to different partners. It is fairly common for people to suppose that there is some sort of hierachical pecking order to the various configurations. Hence we will talk as if there is something MORE valid about total power exchange relationships than those that are perhaps more negotiable. We'll insist that the 24/7 dynamic is better and more "real" than the one that happens in discreet time intervals with periodic separations. We'll compare, with great fervor, the relative merits of cyber and realtime relationships.
We seem to be absolutely convinced that there is "one true way." Most of us have some kind of idea in our minds about what constitutes a "good" or "correct" version of our kind of relating. We collect, socially and culturally, a whole set of intellectual baggage that tells us what our relationships "should be like." It makes me wonder how much better off we might all be if we could release our hold on the need to label, and simply find ourselves into the kind of relatedness that is "right" for us and our partners. Too, we'd be better off if we simply acknowledged that what is right today might not have been right five years ago -- or might not be right in a year from now.
We relate for all sorts of reasons, and we accomplish all kinds of things in the creation of our closest relationships. Maybe there is a more informative way to think about describing our relationships -- maybe it is possible to think in terms of what we GET out of our relationships, or hope to get out of them. Knowing that might tell us more than the labels we so commonly use. Consider:
- Some relationships are about survival. The partners may feel like they can't make it on their own, and almost anyone available will do. People who enter into these kinds of relationships are most often "broken wings" of one sort or another -- perhaps addicted, perhaps victims of abuse, perhaps mentally unstable...
- Other relationships are primarily about validation. In these kinds of relationships we are looking for affirmation of physical attractiveness, intellect, social status, sexuality, wealth, or some other attribute. A validation relationship might shore up our self-esteem in areas where we feel inadequate or doubtful.
- Sometimes, especially in the scene, relationships are set up in some sort of "scripted" fashion. We pick out the roles that seem most attractive or most intriguing or most exciting, and then the relationship is configured around the partners living out their expectations for the roles they believe they are supposed to play. They have the right toys, go to the right events, and carry out all the right scenes and protocols. These kinds of relationships are often plagued by power struggles. Endless arguments develop as the partners struggle to maintain the illusion of perfect "whatever-ness."
- Another kind of relational model is based on acceptance. In these kinds of relationships, we trust, support and enjoy each other. Within certain boundaries, this kind of relationship allows us to be ourselves. Partners in acceptance relationships allow for the vagaries of their human-ness, and they simultaneously refrain from pushing those limits that erode the trust of their partners, strain their enjoyment, and weaken the bonds between them.
- Some relationships revolve around the assertion of each partner's wants and needs, as each person focuses on personal growth -- seeking their own and supporting their partner's. These relationships require each person's acknowledgment and appreciation of their differences. Roles tend to be flexible and boundaries tend to be somewhat permeable. The ability to tolerate ambiguity and uncertainty is the hallmark.
- There are also models for relationships that are usually of short duration. We don't always need to invest in an "until death do us part" lifetime contract. Some of what we need, as organisms, can be handled just fine in relatively short interactions with the "right" partner for the moment. These relatioships can help us heal, allow us to experiment, give us a path to making a transition, permit us to avoid unhealthy committments, or just let us pass the time in some sort of pleasant dalliance.
I don't know where all of that comes from or where it takes me or us. Part of me would bristle at those who would look at my relationship and assert that it isn't what I say it is. On the other hand, there are days when I look at my relationship and assert that it isn't what I say it is. There are times when it feels like it does exactly what I need it to do in this place and this time, and when that happens, I am happy and fine and it really doesn't matter what anyone calls it or me or us. Then there are days when I am feeling empty, lost, uncertain, frightened, sad -- and I can feel all the various barbs. I can feel the lack of equality in the way our society defines marriage, I can feel the judgement in my own mind when I measure what I do and what I endure against what others report, I can transmute His occasional disappointment and discouragement into a death knell, and despair of ever getting it right. What an exercise in chasing my own tail!
Ours is a perfectly imperfect connection. We are both entirely human, with entirely human attributes -- both positive and negative. I can go down the list and take note of my broken places, feel acutely aware of my insecurities, acknowledge my attachment to the roles to which I've laid claim, rejoice in the acceptance I find in the life I've chosen, and treasure the growth and personal validation I've gained in the matrix of "us." The relationship that He and I have created between us is not so easily labeled; is not simple to describe; does not fit neatly into one of the tidy little boxes. I bet we are not unique in this.
When we put our labels on our lives, our loves, our hearts -- call ourselves out (as He and I do) as Master and slave; set ourselves up immovably into a duality/dichotomy, we belie the truth of our own volatile, variable, and vital humanity. Sometimes the slave finds the well runs dry, and sometimes the Master wearies of the need to manage the all and all. We each give what we have when we can, and we each take what we need when it is offered. Grown up relationships are like that. They change. They adapt. They shift.
Ours is a perfectly imperfect connection. We are both entirely human, with entirely human attributes -- both positive and negative. I can go down the list and take note of my broken places, feel acutely aware of my insecurities, acknowledge my attachment to the roles to which I've laid claim, rejoice in the acceptance I find in the life I've chosen, and treasure the growth and personal validation I've gained in the matrix of "us." The relationship that He and I have created between us is not so easily labeled; is not simple to describe; does not fit neatly into one of the tidy little boxes. I bet we are not unique in this.
When we put our labels on our lives, our loves, our hearts -- call ourselves out (as He and I do) as Master and slave; set ourselves up immovably into a duality/dichotomy, we belie the truth of our own volatile, variable, and vital humanity. Sometimes the slave finds the well runs dry, and sometimes the Master wearies of the need to manage the all and all. We each give what we have when we can, and we each take what we need when it is offered. Grown up relationships are like that. They change. They adapt. They shift.
I think I may have confused myself. Maybe all of that stuff didn't really go together after all.
swan
swan
7/03/2010
Independence Day Everywhere in The U. S Except Texas
Each year we in the United States celebrate the anniversary of our nation's Declaration of Independence. Unbelievably bright, literate men, knowing full and well that committing treason against traditionally tyrannical British monarchs, had always resulted in the death of those who engaged in such treason, and knowing the likelihood of their successfully vanquishing the greatest military force in the world at that time, The British Army, took an amazing leap of faith by declaring that the American British colonies were a sovereign nation separate and independent of Britain called The United States. Every American on this 234th anniversary of that event should know and thrill to the words of the beginning of that declaration:
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the People to alter or abolish it, and to institute a new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness"
This wonderful document makes it clear that it is the role of government to enforce and assure these rights and that should a government fail to do so, it is the absolute right of free men to abolish that government, by force if need be, and to institute one dedicated to these principles.
As we head into this 234th celebration of this astounding act of visionary courage, The G. O. P. in Texas (for those of you not familiar with U. S. political idiom, this is an acronym for the "Grand Old Party," i. e., the U. S. Republican Party, analagous to a conservative or Tory party in other democracies) has developed its platform for the election ahead this November. It has declared proudly that these precepts are valid other than in terms of the "All men" provision at the beginning of The Declaration of Independence. It is clearly exempting people who are gay, people who have disabilities, and people who choose to intentionally create families differebt that just one man and one woman, declaring that all of these lack the inalienable rights set forth by the U. S. founding fathers.
It is important as we look forward here in the U. S. to the second Tuesday of next November and, as we eat our hamburgers and hot dogs tomorrow, and watch fireworks displays and gloriously symphonic concerts of patriotic music, that we study exactly what it is the Republican Party stands for. It is rare for the G. O. P. to come out of the closet and transparently state their beliefs and values. It is clear that the Republican vision as elucidated in Texas, were it to come to fruition would result in a government that it would, were we to adhere to the Declaration of Independence, be the right of all free men to abolish and recreate.
You may read the Texas G. O. P. platform here:
http://static.texastribune.org/media/documents/FINAL_2010_STATE_REPUBLICAN_PARTY_PLATFORM.pdf
We have work to do still today 234 years later to preserve freedom from would be tyrants.
All the best,
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.
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