Jealousy, Part Five

Once, during a discussion about jealousy (one of many hundreds I have had since being given the assignment to explore it and figure it out) Klaudia said to me that she felt a good kind of jealousy, a sweet tingle in her tummy, when she thought about her Master.  I was new to this idea, so naturally I kept my distance: "what do you mean there is a good side to jealousy?" I asked myself, loudly.  I thought the whole point of this exercise was to exorcise.  That jealousy is a demonic invasion plague infestation infection thing.  Akin to the zombiepocalypse.  It goes right for the brains and then leaves you for dead, or that is how I thought about it.  "It is like a predator," I came to understand.  "It is like a bully," was also a familiar refrain.  "It compromises safety and sanity, and therefore consent and submission," is my own conclusion.  "It makes my tummy tingle," says Klaudia, and that just turned everything upside down.

I tried very hard to think of a way to make jealousy come from a place of love.  Jealousy gets a bad rap, naturally, and it's difficult to reverse that trend.  But I realized, as I examined an older picture of my mentor that was still in its raw state, and as I imagined all the things that I would do to digitally manipulate and enhance and "make different" and "make new" this picture of my Genny, that I had said to myself, "My Genny."  And I thought, after that, "My Genny, who looks like only I can make her look, when I take her picture."  And then I realized, "Only I see this Genny, my Genny."   When I take the picture and when I show it on display, sure, other people can observe "My Genny" but... only I saw her.  Only I captured her, treated her, polished her, and made her shine like only My Genny can.  And when I look through that lens to shoot My Genny, I do so out of love.  It's a jealousy that comes from Love.  My mentor inspires this.  And Klaudia's tummy-tingles confirm this: it is possible to feel a GOOD kind of jealousy.  The kind that says, "Nobody else can do this for you like I can, you wonderful person whom I love and will never harm."    (And incidentally, I'm not showing the My Genny picture here, because she's mine.  Sorry.)  

How good it is to know YOU

A week's absence has not been a week idle.  As I sort through the change in my real life, I also watch as my Second Life's learnings fall into place more clearly.  And because of You, Master, I know how connected the two are; and because of You, Master, I know how connected we all are.  Because of You, Master, I know the source of joy, and also I know the source of anger (and how easily you found them, how soon into knowing You).  I also happen to know, and this is my own learning, that joy is stronger.  Joy is power.  And because of You, Master, I know that power flickers, sometimes, even with the best of intentions: power is precious, power is renewable (if we take the time to renew it), and power shouldn't be taken for granted.  Sometimes even the most reliable  'on'  button is going to need a little help.  And that is what we are here for; that relating, that strengthening, that harnessing of power to feel that joy.  Master, submissive, top and bottom, or equal friends, there is joy to have in the world, however you find it.  Master, it is so good to know You.  And I'm pretty excited about the hidden 'me' I am getting to know because of You.

Jealousy, The Assignment, isn't going away.  In fact, it's gaining momentum.  This (above) is one of the pictures I took for my submission on jealousy, and I'm going to do something here that I should have done more clearly before: I'm going to explain in my own words why this is a picture (one of many pictures) of jealousy.  To me.  As an artist, I can see the actual art. I have to.  It's how I come up with the story.  But as a viewer, I do not spend much time analyzing the view.  And so I am going to do that here.

"Is this what I have to do to make you look at me more than you look at her?"  This is a woman who knows her partner's gaze wanders to another woman.  She feels jealous of her partner, therefore, and she begins to exhibit jealous behaviour.  The jealous behaviour:  trying to be someone else, trying to be someone she is not, trying to be like that other woman.  She part-reveals her body in a semi-sexual way.  The tentative behaviour is, therefore, revealed with this part-this and half-that.  Her eyes are shaded darkly; we cannot see the real eyes of her.  She herself probably does not want to see, either, clearly; she is ashamed of the behaviour she has reduced herself to.  There is nowhere to hide in this picture, so her hands are awkwardly placed.  A little bit shy for the face; a little bit shy for her arousal; and altogether attention-seeking, though it  might be negative attention.  Ultimately, it is a picture that frustrates a GENUINE sense of self.  And that is what I believe -- or, ONE of the points that I believe -- defines jealousy.  Jealousy frustrates a genuine sense of self.  Jealousy forbids a genuine sense of self - and the reverse is true: those without a clear sense of self are subject to jealous feelings and jealous behaviour.  Jealousy focuses too much on the 'other' rather than reassuring the 'self' that the self is still whole.  Jealousy focuses too much on 'him' or too much on the 'her' that he is looking at.  Jealousy removes the focus from the very precious power (power that I have recently felt, power that is golden, power in the belly of the woman who loves) -- this very precious power that we must never take for granted.  It is golden, this power.  There is joy, there.

Jealousy, Part One

I've spent so much time working on this assignment, and it's nowhere near finished.  Instalment one will be turned in, though, on Tuesday morning.  It's a lot of information.  I have so many people to thank for helping me accumulate all this good information; but I have Klaudia and Sir Tony to thank for helping me process all this information.  The process has been gorgeous.  The process is as enlightening as the subject matter.  I feel the caring; and as I get to the source, I feel it even more.  So, besides jealousy arising from an anxiety over the possibility of losing someone, regardless of whether it is a feeling, a motivation, or a behaviour all of its own, I have separated nine traits so far that help characterize jealousy when it is in action.  Sometimes the behaviour of jealousy cannot be distinguished from other feelings and other scenarios; sometimes the mask is very clever indeed.  But as I study it, the separation of traits becomes a fascinating study.  And it is a study that I wish to capture in photograph, and so I have been doing so.  The first trait I captured was silence.  Jealousy is a dangerous form of silence.  The picture of a woman with her back turned to the camera, with her body language and not her words declaring, "I will not tell you why I am angry."  This is the biggest dilemma because, ultimately, communication will be the antidote to feelings of jealousy: and so, to withhold communication is to pour fuel into the already-blazing flames of jealousy.  She turns her back and will not say what made her angry; but it was only a tiny little detail.  A very small thing, possibly: the kind of detail that topples geographical boundaries.  But she is in pain and surrounded by shadows; and the wounded retreat to solitude, in nature.

Another trait: loneliness.  It comes from the solitude of retreat, sometimes, but also it is important to realize that jealousy contradicts feelings of belonging.  This contributes to loneliness.  Those who feel as though they belong do not feel the pangs of jealousy.  (Those who feel like they belong in a group, or belong to a special lover, or belong to their one and only... etc.)  And it is tragic to imagine how those who feel the jealousy in the first place are those who are already self-alienated.  The jealous one is already lonely, in other words, regardless of whether she is invited to belong.  The jealous one already does not belong in her own mind, regardless of whether her lovers or her friends claim or disown her.  Persuading her that she belongs is not the antidote to jealous feelings: such persuasion is easily denied and easily proven to be false.  It takes a lot of understanding and a lot of care to figure out that the argument flows deeper -- has a source more profound -- than what is immediately visible.  The antidote to loneliness is not company, and the antidote to jealousy is not persuasion.  The source is darker, more mysterious, and was dug long before the lover looked askance the first time.  The antidote will, eventually, be long, difficult communication, increasing comfort zones and defining clear boundaries concerning acceptable behaviours and tolerable limits.  But it will work for the long term only if ........

To know and to love

This is a picture of my journey.  I wish the sim were still open, where I had taken this photograph.  Interesting to note that there was nothing to change about it.  I added a frame, my name, and called it pretty. (Sometimes the photographs that I take in Second Life are just perfect on their own.  Sometimes I feel like a good photographer, not just a good digital artist.)   I have been waiting to see what to do with this image: and now I realize, this is a picture of my submission.  I walk an unfamiliar landscape: unfamiliar, even alien-looking to what I am used to on Earth.  Some of the planks are rickety and old (values that are worn-out and under-examined for their relevance today); and some of the planks are strong and sturdy (lessons, fresh thinking, and small victories along the way that prop up the process).  In the top right quadrant, I wander.  I am in no hurry.  I look at what is around me and I learn.  Bottom right quadrant: the butterflies, the metamorphosis.  The change.  The beauty that awaits.  The bottom left quadrant: green foliage, green space, organic growth that represents life and living and the symbiosis of relationships.  Upper left quadrant:  the elegant, elaborate, carefully-constructed screen that follows me -- blocks my view of certain things, shields me from certain things, protects me from foul winds, or reveals things to me slowly at the right pace.  That shield is valuable.  It is not a hindrance.  That shield is human-constructed and elegant.

This is also a picture of my journey.   It is a picture of contemplation, experimentation, and tests.  (The toes in the water test like no other test...)  The crossed arms love like no other love.  The reflection in the water shows myself to me.  And I have learned in the last 48 hours to love, love, love the good person looking back.

Most of my journey is intellectual.  A little bit -- more and more -- is emotional.  When I began the journey, I had no idea what scope, what vast acreage of landscape, there would be to learn and explore in the D/s lifestyle.  I had no idea it was more than kneeling, devotion, and prayer that I would "be enough."  I had no idea the fulfillment would be so intense; nor the emptinesses that become more pronounced.  I had no idea that, when I finally asked, I would finally receive.  I've been told -- and it's been proven -- that I'm allowed to ask, and I'm allowed to receive, and that it's more than okay:  it's gratifying.

Art, Artifact, Artfulness, Artistic

ART is my outlet.  Portraiture is my voice.  Art is the artifact of the human soul just as literature is the artifact of the human mind.  Artifacts are evidence.  Marks in time.  Points of intersection between observation and understanding. How experience eventually becomes knowledge.  (You see how I consider things; art, like submission, carries with it its own philosophy that I yearn to explore, shred by shred.  Words are meaningful:  I do not take them lightly and I mean what I say.)  Art is my outlet, and artistic is my adjective, and the play between light and dark is my observation.  Again, symbolic: my emotions seek the dark because they live in the light.  My portraiture plays with the transformation between light and dark: the difference between innocence and experience; that space between the unknown and the familiar. I take the time to consider these things when I study a person's face.  In my mind, I study Your face, whoever  You are, out there.  I study Your face, and I memorize Your lines, and I crave the creases at Your mouth.  Because when You are genuine with me, there is no art: there is only truth.  The artful dodger, nay:  artfulness is slain by a shining, bright light.

My portraitures are studies of light and dark.  I believe that if I spend time in such study, I come to certain truths about the human condition.  For example, I learn that there is something attractive about the dark when strategically shadowed.  There is a need for the dark in order to delineate and shape the light. The light is beautiful, but it is blinding without the relief of shadows.  The shadows cool; the shadows edge and shape like a sculptor, creating beauty.  There is beauty in the darkness, just as there is beauty in the secrets of a soul.  You, I know, You will show me some beautiful corners in the darkness.  Your honest light will not cause pain; and Your soothing darkness will make pain sweet to touch and hold.  When You come, I will show You all my sides.  There will be no choice: You will reveal myself to me anyway.  I will know You when You come, and I am glad You exist out there somewhere.  I have more patience now.  And the more I focus on my studies, the better I know myself.  And I see You pretty damned clearly, too, by the way.

Seekers, Submissives, and Sensualists, if you wish your Second Life portrait done, it costs only a modest donation to the J2D sim (which I keep talking about!) and it is my great pleasure to work with you.

"cus the best is yet to come"

The really nice DJ is playing Def Leppard's "Armageddon It" at J2D while I'm blogging this.  We're dancing around having a great time; I've just taken some beautiful pictures; I've got some learnings to record; and it's a good day so far.  I've even had lunch.

OK learnings:  I've met people.  I've been talking to people.  It's been enlightening.  My own attitudes and fantasies have shifted considerably since I first began this journal.  I have discovered the difference between a lifestyle and a world of fantasy; between the intensity of a scene and the normalcy of quotidian motions (and the beauty of both).  And that is something subtle but significant to point out.  The scening and the normalcy; the performance and the reality; the act and the genuine.  I have given my all, in my time; I have thrown my heart, soul, blood, and spirit into some phenomenal roleplay.  It is exhausting.  It alters the mind.  It changes the world.  It transforms the body (physically, really, it does!  chemical reactions and oh that sweet look of satisfaction on the face...) and it is its own metamorphosis in toto.  It is exhausting.  A person can't keep up that level of intensity 24/7.  

There is beauty, too, in the day-to-day act of living.  Even in a D/s lifestyle, there is a simple kind of beauty.  It means that the intensity, the honesty, the vulnerability, the whole transformative change from the night before's scene may be now in the past and relegated to the realm of imagination and memory... but now everything that happens subsequently (the brushing of the teeth...  the making of the breakfast... the wandering to the window and looking out at the day with a cup of coffee... the choosing what to wear... the going back to work for the day and the going through motions of basic needs for survival...) everything that happens subsequently is coloured a shade more vibrantly.  Everything smells a little better.  It makes the days of normalcy that much more enjoyable.  Not every day needs to be a scene:  and not ever day needs to be leading up to a scene.  My own identity, my own submission, my own needs and my own fantasies, they still exist and they are still as real to me as anything... even during a peaceful cuppa on the porch.

I have been reading a new book: "50 Shades of Grey" recommended to me by Sir RB.  There's a lot to like about this book but the thing that strikes me most poignantly is during the making of breakfast.  That happens a few times.  (Also happens in the movie "Nine and a Half Weeks" which I enjoyed for similar reasons... the mundane act of breakfast, a calm time, representing the AFTER.)  Breakfast means there was something before it.  Breakfast is symbolic of the beautiful after-ness ("aftermath" has a negative connotation... "after-ness" works here, even though it isn't elegant).  Aftercare can be in the form of breakfast.  Why not.

What do these pictures have to do with this post?  These are shots of the sim J2D (where I'm engrossed in my mentorship).  You wouldn't think this is a D/s lifestyle sim by looking at these pictures.  Dancing around to Ozzy and Linkin Park with DJ Stormy doesn't have anything to do with scening, or with exploring pain boundaries, or with courting a collar, or with negotiating hard limits... Instead, this sim fosters a comfortable, elegant, cozy space to learn and grow and have some fun.  Meet people.  Move slowly.  Get to know each other.  Eventually move into the realm of discussing fantasy.  Eventually move into the realm of exploring those fantasies....  

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.