The Dictionary, Page Twelve

Capture, now what was I thinking?  Capture, of all things.  The dictionary of my submission -- the words meaningful to me as I relate to my Tasdron:  capture is word twelve.

Not roleplay, no -- this is not a game.  Not slavery, no --  a slave to my passions, I am not, and I govern my passions with the desire of a saint.  Surely to cupcakes I had something in mind when I blurted the word "capture" for page twelve of the dictionary.

Oh indeed, oh yes.  Oh for the very certainty.  Yes, and I remember precisely why, too.  I remember a day -- early, early in my understanding of this lifestyle -- when brave old Sir Will set me down in a new and unfamiliar sim, greenery everywhere, with some delicate iron chairs and a table for two.  I was honored to hold his attention for the twenty minutes we had for talking and enjoying green nature.  (I am always honored when someone of sublime humanity invites me for a small time to enjoy an idea or two, and I have been very lucky with how many of those people -- people of sublime humanity -- I have been able to meet.)  What we talked about was preserving -- holding time in a bottle, as it were.  How afraid I had become, at that time in the year, of time slipping away and vanishing, and taking everything I love with it.  It was an anxiety easily quelled, in fact, and brave old Sir Will's picture in my photo album proves it.  "Why do you take pictures?" he asked.  "I need to capture and then hold on to moments," I replied.

When I frame it, snap it, save it, and treat it, it is mine for however long I say so.

Memory is unreliable, and dreams are easily influenced.  The taste of the tea at the time of a special moment is a taste I could try with all my might to recapture, tomorrow.  And of course, that taste, that perfect chemistry just so, just right, just there in that moment now gone, that taste is precious and flown.

So I take tea every day, for every moment.  I won't take any chances of missing out.

* * *

What happens, though, when the moments are perfectly collected, and the visuals perfectly captured, and the words and associations catalogued carefully and with pristine attention to every detail worth remembering -- and then the feeling fades... What happens when the chemistry that coordinated all of my feelings of submission suddenly changes, changed as a vial of blood poured into the clear, pure glass of aqua vita changes the look and meaning and value of the intoxicant?

The chemistry that made me crave the pain; the chemistry that made me crave the care; the chemistry that made me crave the naked vulnerability and steadfast rules and limits.  The chemistry that made me open myself to surrendering to another.  How do I recapture that chemistry?  I have gone all vanilla and happy.  There is great love, there.  There is placid, easy conversation.  There is intelligence and connection.  There is beauty and truth.  There is all such goodness but -- what of the chemistry that made me crave the sting of a riding crop?

My submission changes with every new day.  I am no less submissive simply for not craving pain.  I am no less submissive simply for not craving a passionate violence in fantasy.  I am no less submissive. I am simply... chaste in thought, now, as well as in deed.

There is no capturing chemistry as one captures its look.  Chemistry boils and bubbles, forever changing.  The species named "Submissive" does not change with the flowing, floating fury of volatile chemicals always at play.  I'm still me.  I'll be fine.

* * *

And I have valentines chairs to sit in for when you get home, by the way.

The Dictionary, Page Eight

Service is the word for today.  A dominant commits to a submissive; and a submissive submits service to the dominant.  The commitment of a dominant is negotiated before the collaring, for years or for months or for as long as it takes to get something you both can live with.  If you've read about Mr Grey and Anastasia in the famous trilogy of highly-contested alternative relationships, you know that it takes a full three novels for the negotiations to complete in Fifty Shades of Grey: this is not something that takes place in a week.  Negotiations take time.  Frankly, in any successful marriage they take the entirety of the couple's lives together.  If my partner ever stops negotiating, in other words, I'll know that we are finished with each other.

What is negotiated?  The service one performs for the other.  The word "service" is a tricky word: the submissive serves the dominant's wishes of course; we look forward to it.  But the dominant also serves the fantasy of the submissive.  The dominant controls a scene so that, from what he has come to learn about his girl, he can create and re-create the right fantasy.  And when not in scene, the dominant serves the greater good of the relationship by learning more, while the submissive serves the greater good of the relationship by opening to new possibilities more.  There is a mutuality of serving in a good relationship between dom and sub.

[This "mutuality" would sound alien to a Gorean master, or to anyone who "owns" the submissive in a 24/7 exchange.  The kinds of relationships where "rights" and "safe words" don't necessarily get discussed.  But those aren't the relationships I concern myself with, here:  here, relationships are mutually beneficial, are mutually rewarding, and are mutually uplifting to a state of higher understanding.  Higher pleasure.  Higher love.  Deeper intimacy.  Harder truths and control over those truths to the safety and benefit of each person.]

There is no service without negotiation.  There is no negotiation without curiosity.  There is no curiosity without love.  These ideas are interconnected and travel together like a group of good friends on an adventure.  They take care of each other.  They make sure nobody loses a wallet or forgets a purse, and they make sure you come home with good pictures.  Good memories.  Just precisely, absolutely what you wanted to remember forever, why you embarked upon the trip to begin with.  I am in love; and I am curious about my love; and I ask how best I may please my love; and I see what I can do; and then my service (whether it be to learn, to speak, to remain silent, or to give space; whether it be to bring food, to bring friends, to bring entertainment, or to bring in the bags from the car) comes naturally.  I have a few ideas of how I may serve.  I also have a sense of when it is phoney and when something else is really in order.  I always ask, though, because I want to get it right and the one I serve is going to tell me the right way in the end.

There are minimum requirements, of course.  There is a good sleep.  There is proper food.  There is proper physical activity contributing to good health.  In the vanilla world, people believe they can function (and they do, to low standards) on poor sleep and a poor diet and too much caffeine and alcohol.  In my reality, though, such is impossible.  In my reality, top-notch service from me comes from top-notch self-care, self-love, and self-discipline.  Good health.  A commitment on my part to always give my best, not my compromised.

Ritual, Manners, Privacy

A bridge is a ritual space, I have just discovered.  Like a ladder.  A bridge connects two spaces, the before and the after.  And crossing a bridge is its own kind of ritual, the way to enter a space and the way to leave a space behind.  Ritual can be as simple as turning to face a new direction; or it can be as ornate and brazen as the shield of Achilles.  Forged in the imagination of a skilled practitioner, ritual is a Godsend to someone like me who -- for various reasons -- craves that secret space, that private place where one knows and believes in something transcendent and beautiful.

Steel Door treats ritual here and it is a pretty primer, after all.  There are some things, though, that simply cannot be taught or read about; and in order to fully appreciate the connection that ritual affords, the deep-rooted and clutching connection, it's best to reach out and really live it and feel it with someone awesome.  Someone whose manners are like one's own. Someone whose ways make sense to oneself.  Someone with whom the whole world vanishes and any space becomes private space because of the deep-rooted and clutching connection.

Yes, it is possible to find exactly -- I mean, to the note, to the syllable -- what you're looking for in this world.

Transcendence

What have I learned in my study of the D/s lifestyle?  I've been a student here for over six months and, in that time, what has made it a worthwhile endeavour?  My whole blog is filled with learnings and personal achievements, and at the risk of under-privileging other very important lessons that I would gift to any seeker in the lifestyle, I do privilege one lesson above the rest and that is learning how to forgive yourself.  Nevermind the rest of the people who inevitably require it in life -- the self is more important and (though I did not realize it) cries out for it the hardest.  Thank you.

More than that, I understand what it actually means to forgive myself: and that it's not just words to repeat in a mantra each morning or affirmations to bring sweet dreams each night.  There is something to do and it is very important.  Forgive yourself for wanting to be loved means saying, "I want to be loved," and then saying, "Okay, me?  Good."  And then making it a part of my character.  "I am someone who wants to be loved," then, and after another little while, "This will only work if I feel loved because that's who I am."  As time passes, I take it for granted about me.  I am forgiven the selfishness of it by making it part of my true self without apology.

Forgive yourself for feeling so sure, for feeling so certain, and for being so wrong sometimes.  And for taking responsibility and feeling the burden of other people's responsibility (NOT a submissive vantage point, another reason why it feels so unnatural and heavy).  That means saying, "I am wrong, and I'm not sure," which opens me to enlightenment, and it is not tied to my ego to be unsure, and it is not a reflection of my character to be wrong.  I am forgiven the character flaw by making it my character to be open to enlightenment without certainty.

Forgive yourself for valuing perfection and for aspiring to it, and the shroud that thickens this:  forgive the illusions and pedestals and plinths that crumble when perfection shows what it looks like in the morning before coffee and lipstick.  And so I say, "I really enjoy the striving.  I'm going to keep striving.  I'll try a little harder to be satisfied, though."  And the coffee tastes pretty good today, thank you for that also.

Shame, Part Two

"Kink shame" and "shame as kink" are two different things.  Some people are ashamed of their kinks; and some are turned on as a kink by the idea of shame.

I spent a great deal of my second life (the first time around) dead-ashamed of my kinks.  (I mean, the "G" word.  My first BDSM fantasies were, counter-intuitively, Gorean.  And I'd never even heard of Gor before Second Life, so this was quite an awakening.)  I was not ashamed to live my fantasies of sexual slavery and participate actively -- only ashamed to associate my fantasy self with my real self and to introduce both selves to each other.  Often, it is shame that prevents many people from integrating their first and second lives: the feelings of shame lead to this behaviour of dividing (sometimes with a violence) the two lives.  In extreme cases, it is this shame that prevents the real self from meeting the fantasy self.  Living in the closet is a painful experience: one divides the self and it doesn't feel very good.  I am sure this theory applies to more than just "kink" and Second Life.  I am sure the idea of living in the closet is more common than society would be comfortable admitting.

In my series of interviews around "shame" I met many people who keep a careful array of closets.  Closets for reasons of gender, for reasons of sexual orientation, for reasons of shame and kinks... there are many reasons a person will hide part of oneself from the rest of the world.

I know that in my case, I have struggled in the past with asserting a confident sense of self.  Second Life has really helped me achieve a better (and loveable) sense of self.  I feel more confident saying to people "I need this."  I feel more confident saying to people, "I will not tolerate this."  I know the difference between fantasy and reality: and I know that I do not want one to become the other, but I would like both to have their own special places in my life.  This took quite a bit of time to articulate, finally.  Naturally, I wish that I could go back to the beginning knowing then what I know now.  Knowing that there is no shame (objectively) to wanting and desiring.  Knowing that I have a valid, loveable self that can play nice and contribute fun things.  Knowing that when someone acts like an ass, it's not because of something I did but, rather, that person is quite separately an ass regardless of me.

I'm over my kink-shame in much the same way that I am over my "invalid self" feelings.  I know I have a lot of people to thank for this.  I'm grateful for each and every one of them.

Truth

 Mistress Steel's collection of learnings  was my first "how to" manual of BDSM and the D/s lifestyle.  I have read and re-read the articles herein.  Each time, I am refreshed.  What strikes me this time is truth.  In the "24/7" article, she writes:  "It becomes crucial to say clearly exactly what you mean and to listen carefully to hear exactly what your partner says to you.  We have often been taught to try to say what we believe other people wish to hear instead of the truth.  Truth alone can be blunt and unkind, but it is the edge of the blade that does far less damage than a blade that is blunted by false veneers.  Honesty is essential.  Hiding or masking anything will quickly lead into a morass of problems and, most often, the severing of the relationship's potential."

Lately, I have been tasked with writing down my thoughts during scheduled moments of meditation so that we can discuss them later.  I remember the first time I thought I had bad news to deliver: I had meditated on limits and I was about to impose them.  I was not sure how that would be received, and I could feel the anxiety rise.  How do you deliver unpopular news to someone you respect?  How do you tell someone whom you value that you are about to place limitations on the relationship?

Personally, I believe in the Mistress Steel philosophy:  the cutting blow of truth hurts, but it doesn't hurt as much as repeated blows from a blunt object that didn't do the job right the first time, or the second, or the third.  A clean break is a mercy.  A person can work with a clean, clearly-stated truth; people are strong (regardless of how they might protest to the contrary).  Speaking for myself, I would rather hear a clean, clearly-stated truth (i.e. "It's not working out, but we gave it a good try.  Let's end this thing.") than to be left in the dark, second-guessing myself, wondering when and if and how and whether... Speak, say it, define it, bind it, and let go.  Truth is a necessary condition of maturity.  I suppose that I take it for granted that a dominant personality will speak truth to me -- will, at the very least, be able to deliver unpopular news to me with a clean blow so that I can deal with it.  If a dominant personality cannot deliver unpopular news with the same conviction as good news, then it warrants examination.  Even doms have limits and the right to assert them.  As a submissive personality, I look to them -- to one especially -- to give it to me straight and clean.

I relate the ability to tell the truth to the ability to define limits and boundaries.  The ability to say 'Stop!' when it is time.  The ability to assert, "This far, and no further."  The ability to say, "I think I have made a mistake, can you help me?"  The ability to say, "I have needs, and you cannot meet them if you continue this way."  The ability to say, "I thought I was going to like this, and now I realize I do not."  The ability to say, "Damn, that was harder than I thought it was going to be."  Speaking truth to power is not easy, sometimes, but how else are we going to enjoy our lives if we cannot speak truth to power?  How else are we going to live in a world of conflicting needs and competing desires without the ability to say, "Enough; now it is time for my needs."  Of course, a person needs a nice safe place to be able to speak the truth and have it heard as truth, and have it analyzed and discussed as human beings.  A person needs a safe place, lots of patience, great understanding, and a curious spirit engaged in getting to the source of things... yes yes.  These things I also take for granted.  A person must want to live with truth, for starters.  And that is another reason why I am so blessed with the people I know and love.

Backwards, Frontwards, Side to Side

It's been quite a day.  And there's nothing like talking to a real friend on a real kind of ... strange day.  I wanted to know about the role of love in submission, especially in the virtual world.  "Can you give yourself and still be independent?" my mentor asked me, challenging me to enjoy the feeling of a man without giving myself away.  And I enjoyed the feeling of a man.  And it feels like so long ago, but it is only just over a week, now.  "One more thing," she says to me, "do not fall in love with him."  That must mean that love is a part of submission.  Love can be a part of submission, rather.  It must mean that love risks being a part of submission, and that a person risks falling in love when perhaps love is not the bargain domination negotiates.
I started this journey, as I was reminded today by Sir RB, with the directive of "no love, please."  And I remember vividly saying to many people, "It's not  your love I'm looking for."  And I don't think that's changed, to be honest.  I do not think it is love that I am missing: but I do know that I am not cut out for a casual arrangement.  I do expect to be somebody's priority, because when I submit I make that man my priority.  I clarified today (thank you Sir RB, the conversation was precisely what I needed) that I spend a great deal of time erecting defenses against the possibility of being hurt (which would be a regular occurence if I did not erect these defenses; there are cruel people in the world), instead of privileging the aftermath of experience.  To privilege the guard-against means that I shall never really experience.  To privilege the aftermath means that I shall, in time, equip myself with the tools required to heal and to mend and to repair and to enjoy.  I have been doing things backwards, in other words.  I'm still not convinced that by doing the opposite I will actually be going forwards; I feel like I'm staggering to the side a little.  I know, however, that I am still on the right path towards You, mighty You, the You I know knows me.  Forgive me, I beg, if I take a little longer to get there.

It's not necessarily love that I need.  In fact, I'm sure it is not love that I need. It is love that I feel, though; and I'm now beginning to clarify things in my mind.  It's not love that I need; it's time and privilege.  It is love that I have to give, when I submit.  And what I need is consistency: time and privilege, dedicated time and dedicated priority.  I do need to be somebody's priority.  I do need that.  I have needs, and that is one of them.  Priority when he is here.  Priority when we have established a routine of inviolable time to share.  Not a monopoly but a scheduled priority.  My submission and my love are not very far different from each other; and I do not expect a virtual dom to understand it or reciprocate it -- but I do expect it to be valued, consistently, as part of who I am.  I think it is what makes me a desirable submissive.  And to that end, a consistent one.  Which means, it's time I communicate  a little bit now.  And so I shall.
*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
In other news, in my frenzy to try to understand the mind of a dom, before I was lucky enough to score Sir RB's attention, I started reading notecards from a library in Second Life.  I was instantly disheartened, but then I realized "Hah, it's not really surprising."  Check out the first line in one of the notecards, and I quote:  "Dominance is a primitive part of the human psyche.  To plug into this primitive role, you have to appear strong.  So be as strong as you can.  Then fake the rest."   And then it goes on to say, "Strong people have wants, but not needs."   There is another notecard from the same library, "How to be a good top."  I turn my attention to that.  It poses the question, what do you do with a submissive you have tied up?  "You can be stern and commanding, sympathetic but nasty, jolly yet sadistic... anything you please."   My initial reaction to reading this?  "Not with me, you can't."  Whoever wrote these wrote them with absolutely no forethought about what it means to engage meaningfully in a long-term negotiated D/s relationship.  And now the highly questionable experiences I have endured in this world make a lot more sense, given what is out there instructing people.

In still other news, the landscapes in this post are of the Journey to Domination and submission sim that Genny (my mentor) owns and operates.  I have given her a bunch of fresh landscape shots because it has been a while since I have photographed some beautiful land.  I was chatting today about how the principles of photography (perspective, light, focal point and level of interest) are also the principles of any human relationship, not just relationship between subject and beholder.  I process a great many things when I am engaged in an intensity of focus on a picture.

Demystifying Submission

I never get tired of consulting A Master's Viewpoint by Mr Najee.  Today's point of interest: the process of submission.  At a discussion not so long ago, I listened with interest as a lady posed a question to the Domme who was speaking.  "At what point," she asked, "is it a good idea for me to agree to wear someone's collar?"   This, incidentally, is why I haven't ventured into facilitating discussions of my own... How on earth does a person begin to approach a question like that?   I would have asked more questions until the core question framed itself (or until I beat it into a shape that could be considered meaningfully!), but that might have taken hours.  I'm still not sure what question the journeyer was asking.  "How will I know if he really loves me?"  or, "I'm not sure if I'm submissive, so when is it okay to wear a collar to try to find out?"  or, "Is there a set time, in your fantasy world that I'd like to play in, for people to agree to court before broaching the subject of collars?"  or, "I know that I'm submissive; I am simply not sure if he's dominant. Should I still go through with this?  Is there a safe way out?"   My busy mind hears so many questions embedded in that one vague question, and I'm really not sure which is being asked.  (I was not privy to the answer, either, so I cannot comment further.)

This post talks about what it's like when submission meets its proper domination, and vice versa.  "Finally," Mr. Najee writes, "the couple gets to the point where they decide they are going to be together.  I find that the submission process happens naturally.  There is no one moment in time when she offers it and he accepts it.  Instead, it is something that they move toward on a daily basis (with the occasional moving away from when pitfalls are encountered).  The people involved in the relationship, due to their communication, know what is happening."   For the most part, I dig that passage.  Especially how the submission process happens naturally.  The whole article explains what even vanilla relationships undergo in the process of development and intensifying.  Two people talk a lot.  Two people get to know each other.  Whether or not they have a submissive or a dominant character, their own personalities must mesh first and foremost.   (A submissive won't submit to just any dom.  A dominant won't accept the submission of every single sub that kneels at his feet.  It's impossible.  We have to gel.  We have to fit.  It's not a contest, nor a competition... it's just meeting someone you want to be with, in the quirky kind of structure that you dream of inhabiting, and finding that person wants the same thing.)  When we fit, when we gel, when we have talked so much that we know we just need to keep talking, and keep touching, and keep working for the other, it's a foregone conclusion that the relationship will continue on the forward trajectory.  Submission and domination have happened already because nature wanted it so.

"The answer is to interact like a human being," says our Mr Najee.  It's as if he had heard the question!  But seriously... now that I think about it, that's a good answer to many questions.  "How will I know that he really loves me?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.  "How will I know that my submission is what he's looking for?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.  "How will I know that when I reach out, he will reach for me also?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.  "How will I know that it's alright to trust this person, that he won't try to abuse me or take advantage of me?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.  "How will I know that he is competent enough to dominate me?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.  "How will I know that he has the self-esteem I expect in a dom?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.  "What happens when I am overcome with need and it feels like my need will overpower everything and everybody?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.

Taming Desire

"Unrealistic expectations and desires," says Miss Steele in her Fantasy vs Reality article, "are some of the most difficult challenges faced by those in the lifestyle."   Fantasy is not sustainable 24 hours a day: as she quite rightly puts it, somebody has to do the grocery shopping, clean the floors, launder the clothes for the week, etc.  I tried explaining this to somebody, once, who spent a considerable amount of time trying to convince me that once I experienced him I would never want anything else.  (Alas, and obviously, he is not "The One" for me.)  Fantasy is not sustainable 24 hours a day.  It's exhausting.  I need (and love!) my vanilla living as a solid foundation around which my alternative fantasies can open and close.  I started thinking about this as a result of a discussion I attended last night on the longevity of Second Life relationships and whether D/s relationships had any better (or worse?) chance of surviving in-world.  The discussion yielded so many different comments that could, if properly analyzed, be traced back to unrealistic expectations and unbridled desire.  (There were other kinds of comments too, some remarkable in their maturity and many that I keep with me to learn from, in stages.  It was a good talk.)

Especially resonant with me at the moment is the phrase "unrealistic expectations and desires".  Desire, by its very nature, is without reason: it is a want -- a lack -- that makes itself feel like a need.  Desire exists: desire fuels and enflames.  We know this much.  We can't blame desire for being what it is.  Rather than blame desire, I think the onus is on expectation.   Unreasonable expectations is, quite simply, where some people go wrong.  The expectation that desire will be quenched perfectly, in every way, from every angle, at any cost, by a total stranger.  The expectation that people will mind-read, soul-read, spirit-read at first or second meeting.  The expectation that, regardless of time invested or personal compatibility or personal suitability, he or she whom you desire will not only desire you equally but will fulfill you (and all your sweet, bizarre kinks that you travel with and that make you you in your bizarre and kinky way) immediately and without hesitation.  Before the week is out.  And make a sandwich after.

I met a man who said to me that if I will not be intimate with him, he'll be very upset if I am intimate with others.  (His lifelong commitment to pain is touching.  I smile with mischief as he reads this.)  I met a man who believed that, since I claim to be a student of the D/s lifestyle, my body ought to be made available to him magically and automatically.  (We did, actually, set the record straight on that one, no fear.)  I met a man who plays his own submissive (by using the magic of Second Life).  I met a man who wanted to talk with me only to show me how funny he is when he talks to other people.  I meet people who yearn for applause; who yearn for attention; who make funny faces with the alphabet and who sacrifice incredible things in order to feel a moment of gratification (and who try desperately to extend that moment, pulling at the thread, reliving and revisioning and recreating one single moment repeated, because there was only ever that one single moment).   I meet people every day led by desire -- not just feeling the desire but actually governed by desire, shoved down the merry path by desire, hoodwinked and persuaded by desire, believing so strongly in their desire and the desperation for someone else to meet that desire, the be-all-and-end-all condition to endure at all times.  And the appetite... and the need... and the wanting... and the impatience... and the inevitable meltdown... they follow as darkness follows the day.  They travel together.  And it is no wonder that there is a sizeable, jaded community of "exes" in the world.  But, like a beacon of light through a misty night,  Maj made the following comment last night during the discussion:   "You have to put time and effort into it to make the relationship work.  There is no magic to it, and it's not easy.  It just matters how much you want it."   A relationship is a journey based on managed-expectation and not on unbridled-desire.  Maj and Simona are, of course, in a long-term relationship, and it shows.

The reason I practice my disciplines -- the reason I think about things like discipline of the mind, discipline of the spirit -- is because I train my desire.  This is the way I see clearly.  This is the way I feel comfortable alone (and not lonely) until such time as You see fit to claim me.  I wander happily in the light, and I know You will take me into the darkness where I desire to feel You overpower me... when it is time.  And not before.  Waiting is not a chore.  I know that bewilders some people, but I cannot please'em all.

The Hammock of Aftercare

Time spent at J2D is time well spent: so much is achieved before I've even poured my first cup of tea.  Before lunch, I accomplished two successful, impromptu photoshoots with some truly beautiful couples (inside and out), and secured a future as a photographer for the sim.  (I'm sure there will be more of us, in time, who love to take pictures and who will donate their gifts to the very worthy J2D.)

Sometimes it's hard for me to say in words what I can say with a picture.  Articulating what I mean to say, verbally, is good training.  If we cannot articulate with words, we're trapped.  Words are, after all, our only reality... unless we can show some other way.  During one conversation today, I wanted to answer a question that was posed to me: "What does aftercare mean to you?"  It's one of those questions that continues to pop up (like "topping from the bottom" and "switch") regardless of where I go and with whom I speak.  But I suppose the best way that I know how to answer that question about what it means to me (as opposed to what it means in general)  is, "It means neither of you will exhaust your loving selves."

I realize, now, that a very long time ago, when I was privileged to be in a relationship with an excellent roleplay-Master (no longer in the game) that I was exposed to fine, fine aftercare.  I miss it now, keenly.  I have not forgotten the grooming of my tastes.  But I digress...  What does it mean to me?  Aftercare will restore the heartbeat to normal; will gentle the senses back to normal; will still the blood and cool the flush.  It will preserve the sanity.  It will taste like a chocolate mint after a salty supper.  And the mint will linger and freshen, cleanly, watery and soft.  On this little archipelago, for example, a solitary tree, some rocks, vast ocean, and a wooden shack.  The wind moves my hair as I stand innocently at the door to that little shack, shivering from a sudden chill and the absence of birds, thunder rolling in from the north, and then footsteps crunching the sand behind me.  The force-fantasy inside the little shack ends after several hours of intense, disciplined creativity and mood-refining, and then nearby there is The Hammock of Aftercare.

I just named this hammock now, at this moment.  I hope Wendy Xeno doesn't mind (all these pictures are from her sim Humanoid, a lovely place to imagine yourself in).  Thinking symbolically, the little table is to intimacy what the hammock is to aftercare.  The hammock for two is the place where both of you are suspended in the caring arms of each other.  The Dom and the sub both get to enjoy the aftermath of satisfied exhaustion and the aftercare of re-building.  The Hammock  is not an established D/s ritual... it's just something I invented (and maybe others invented also, in other places and other times).   For a long time, I have passed by hammocks and thought them cozy; but now that I immerse myself into Our Lifestyle I understand The Hammock of Aftercare  to be a sacred place, just like Intimacy is a Small Table.

But how can I describe the hammock other than to show it?  It looks flimsy; it's easily overlooked, in fact.  But to those who know what it means, to those who know how valuable it is (how life-saving, relationship-saving, and pretty damned important all around) they can recognize The Hammock of Aftercare no matter what sim they are standing in.  It is a net, with pillows.  It is the safety net.  It is the cradle we all require when we've just finished something dangerous.  You'll see The Hammock situated in so many places you visit, in Second Life.  The fantasy is in the familiar:  The Hammock of Aftercare is as much a requirement of the fantasy as the seduction, the ropes, the sweat, and the cries of ecstasy.

Intimacy Part One

I have had several conversations today, none of them a one that could ever be duplicated.  "Intimate" words; words especially intended for and directed to one person only.  Even a "Good day, my friend" is an intimate phrase, the way that I think about it.  I would direct it especially to one person, and it was for my friend's ears only.  What I'm getting at is this:  I love intimate moments, even chaste ones.  I love moments (yes, even chaste ones!) that are one-on-one.  Good work gets done during an intimate moment (or several).

By now it should be obvious that I enjoy expressing myself artistically; that sometimes words are insubstantial compared to the pure experience of an image finely-wrought and carefully-composed.  By now, too, it should be obvious that I humble myself before a power greater than me, a powerful creative force that must someday surely own me and make me bow.  I do long for that submission... but rather than a desperate frenzy, it is simply an eventuality that I know is coming, far, far down the road.  And I look forward to it.

These three conversations that I had today (and it's not even lunchtime... what a productive day so far!) have schooled me.  The first one was intimate; stopped me in my tracks, held me captive, made me imagine, forced me to consider and reconsider.  My hair was braided and fell loosely down my back, and the conversation called attention to this intimate detail.  A detail about my body that I had given little thought to (I cannot, after all, see the back of myself, generally...) became the focus of an intimate remark, and I was immediately changed.  Intimacy has that power.  The second conversation was group-oriented, and it was hilarious, but there were moments when pointed comments were directed precisely at me in whispers.  I am always honoured when an important and busy man pauses for a moment to whisper, to make something personal, to direct especially instead of generally.  Mark Twain once said that he could live for two weeks on a compliment, and when a skilled public orator takes a moment to whisper something private to me, I feel the compliment keenly.  The third conversation, though, follows the "intimacy is a small table" description from a previous post.  Intimacy is a small table and nothing much obstructs both people.  The conversation happens in any tone, and the table still stands regardless.  There is no approval-seeking.  There is no phoney.  There is only good talk; open thoughts; easy learning.  I can be myself.  I can be curious, stupid, intelligent, funny, confused, afraid... Thank you, Sir, for talking and for letting me talk.  Shields down, heart open, ready for laughter or for care... It is easy to see clearly.

Needs, Part Four

I need my mentor.  I don't mean "I'm in crisis; I need someone immediately."  What I mean is, in my journey towards self-enlightenment and as I grow more and more to know myself, I discover that what I've been missing for all this time is a good mentor.  A good one.  She is kind and loving, but she's not crazy-clingy-invested in me as if her life will fall apart if I say something wrong.  She is smart and knowledgable, but she's not crazy-know-it-all force-feeding me stuff that I can't digest.  I don't know what heavenly gang of deities decided to fashion this lovely lady, but the end result is, "Anna grows."  I look up to her.  Her name is Genny Clary, and she runs the Journey to Domination and Submission (J2D) sim that I just love to be a part of.  She also runs this blog that I love to read.  I won't always "need" Genny; but right now I need her.  And I didn't know how much I needed her until I met her.

She asks the right questions.  She makes me think about myself, for myself, but in the context of other people as well.  She did something that I haven't felt in a long time: she set me "free", so to speak.  When I started to think about, meditate upon, and then articulate my needs, I felt like a huge weight lifted from me.  I have needs.  Yes, I've always known that I have wants.  I have always known that I hunger or thirst for certain cravings that come and go.  I have always flirted with the many wants that flavour my palate.  But beyond those, I actually have needs.  And now I articulate my needs.  And now I am not ashamed of having needs.  And now, even though I'm still wandering around blindly in the dark cave of my soul, still trying to figure out how to work my lantern, at least I know that I'm in the right cave.  At least I know that, whatever is in this cave, I want it to be there.   I'm in my playroom now.  A nice white room aching for decoration the way I want it to be.  Embellished, ornamental, fabric or stone... I decide.  I have needs.

When I walk, I swing my hands freely now.  When I stand, my arms move weightless, gentle wrist-circles and air-drawings like butterflies.  I do not stand still.  I wander and explore and talk to strangers.  I immerse myself in art and photography, literature and cinema.  And I do so with joy, not pain or longing.  I do so with a strong, full heart; no fear.  My voice is a little clearer. My footfall a little more gentle.  I have nothing but commendations for the J2D sim and the people who make it work.  I feel better than I have in half a year, for sure, and it is the direct result of intense, and very kind, introspection guided by a skilled mentor.  And it needs saying... I have met some fine people in Second Life who make having a second life worthwhile.  I took these pictures in the "Spirit" art display by Claudia222 Jewell (a truly gifted artist) on the Art Screamer sim.  I felt a kinship to this beautiful lady when she explained to me the circumstances (grief) under which she created this glorious work of art.  I go back often, amazed each time that the art still stands.  I kiss your cheeks, Claudia.  And yours, Sir Tony, for making me decide to have a first-class mentor.  And yours, Sir RB, for introducing me to Genny's group in the first place, at that very first discussion.  Obviously I was born, this time, under lucky stars and beautiful dreams.

Needs, Part Three

My mentor asks, "What is trust? Do we need it? Can we have a relationship without it?"

On a large scale, I believe civilization's fundamental bedrock is trust: therefore, we cannot have relationships without trust.  I believe, for myself, that I could not cross at a green light, board a high-speed train, or eat food purchased at a local market without trusting all manner of people whom I've never met but who, nevertheless, preserve my life for another day with their predictable and benevolent behaviour.  We need to be able to trust even on an unconscious level, or else we remain paralyzed and afraid of our own shadow.

On a more intimate scale (since intimacy and need are my focus right now), I believe that someone can trust me who has learned to depend on my judgment; who has learned to rely on my priorities and my ability to prioritize someone's sensitive issues; who has learned to read and understand my behaviours which consistently provide a "no-surprise" environment where sensitive issues are concerned.

To do otherwise would be a "surprise" environment -- or, in other words, it would be shocking, an emotional violence.  The extent of the violence depends on the extent of the betrayal.  Part of the trust a person places in me, however, is how terribly I would feel if I were to cause another to be so shocked by betrayal.

On the most intimate scale (since we get to the heart of the matter now) I need trust.  I need to be able to rely upon someone as readily as I offer my own reliability.  I need a "no-surprise" environment.  I need to take for granted that someone will behave in such a way.  Needs, part three:  I need safety from shocks and emotional violence.  Even accidental.

Wants, part one:  I would like to play.  I would like to play with physical boundaries. I would like to play with someone I would never doubt.  I would like to play with someone who takes play seriously; someone who flirts with the physical but who never, ever betrays the emotional.  Side effect of this learning:  As I become more honest, I require more honest.

Needs, Part Two

I quote my mentor:  "It is my trust, my submission that I give."   When I put conditions on my expectations of someone else's behaviour before I give anything, she explains in her blog, "I set myself up for failure."

I know why I'm not real: it has to do with the way that I trust.  I have spent a lot of time trying not to be vulnerable, when it is that vulnerability that defines submission to a powerful and creative force.  I'm not real because I do not trust someone else to protect my feelings as well as I can.  Meanwhile, without that trust, I will not form the unique bond that I seek wherein I believe in someone's protection of my feelings.

The logic is as simple as can be.

Needs part two:  I need to stop approval-seeking.  Approval and intimacy are not the same thing, and I have mistaken them.  Approval-seeking is destructive; it erodes a person's sense of self.

Needs part two:  I need to stop being afraid of intimacy, mistaking it for carrying approval's baggage.  Intimacy is  different, and it is not approval's bitch.

Approval is a circus full of freaks and a different ring-leader every day who may or may not be in the mood for your style of entertainment, or who may feel like laughing you right out of the tent.  Intimacy is a little table in a quiet corner of a busy restaurant; the table has only what you need upon it, and there is not much separating you and your partner.  You speak if you want to, or just gaze if you wish to remain silent.  Sad words, happy words, anxious words, loving words, the table has heard it all, and the table is still there, and so are you and your partner.

Needs, Part One

"Unless you know your needs," my mentor says, "you can never surrender them to anyone."  It sounds so simple; and it is precisely what I am missing.  An accurate picture in my mind, translated into words, of what comprises my needs.  "I have needs," I say to myself almost every day, "and they aren't met."  But what are they?  I can't even speak them aloud, I am so blocked.  I am blinded by "haves" that I can't even begin to sift through them to see the "needs" that wait.  They used to wait patiently.  Now, they creep.  Unseen, but I can hear them.  They are in the walls.

A list of needs.  Unanalyzed.  Just jotted down.  I begin now.

I need passion.
I need romance.
I need to feel special.
I need clean air.
I need walls around me.
I need someone to tell me it will be okay.
I need someone to tell me that I do not know everything and that there are things in the world stronger, longer-lasting, larger, and more potent than I.
I need someone to prove it to me.
I need to feel what it's like to have someone slap me really hard, just once, just to see what it's like.
I need to feel what it's like to have someone throw me down to the floor, just once, just to see what it's like.
I need someone to take care of me, just once, just to see what it's like.
I need to be left alone more than I am because I need some space to breathe.
I need to start all over again.
I need help.
I need to be treated like an adult and not coddled.
I need to be shielded from the most unlikely people, people you'd think would be nice to me but are not.
I need to learn how to stop seeking shelter, eventually.
I need to feel like a real person.
I need to be able to say all this out loud.
I need to speak without stuttering, to stop being ashamed of my voice.
I need, at the moment, more than anything, to stop crying.