Archive for April 27, 2012

Self-Inflicted Melt Down

“That’s it!  I’ve had it.  I am sick and tired of being a fetcher, cleaner, packer, carrier, washer, folder, organizer, etc!  Done…over it…arrrrg”. Rant, rant, rant inside my head, bursting forth in a random diatribe.  “I am sick and tired of you being lazy!  You expect me to do everything. There you sit on your ass while I am rushing around doing shit for you.”  Stomp, stomp, stomp. Rant some more.  More of the same though the words and are switched around and ever more colorful metaphors spring to life.  “You are a lump of lifeless stone while I am a grunting mindless drone working my ass off…for what?? Nothing!” Rawr! Rant, rant, rant.

Likely five minutes long felt like an hour.  I was pissed off and making no polite deferring kind respectful bones about it. There sat Master looking a bit dazed.  He had that sort of “WTF” expression.

Without giving him time to take a breath I blazed on, “You aren’t even going to respond?  You don’t give a shit about what I as saying…why would you?  This is all great for you.  You get all your stuff done. You don’t have to lift a finger.”

More blank stare.

STOMP. “I am not a sla…”  The rest of the word ‘slave’ left unspoken, I corrected to, “…servant!” Then I stopped short and said nothing.

There was the rub.  Servant versus slave. During the week, he had been stressed out. He had checked out for a few hours that afternoon. Off I went going about doing all the things I normally do for him while he was just floating by.  I had no clue what was wrong but was getting more and more pissed off with each passing moment.  Finally I broke into a million ranting shards of myself.  I was lost and clueless as to how to recover from the emotional swan dive.

Master sat and looked more confused now that I had stopped ranting.

I suddenly stumbled over my words. Still anger in my voice but also terrified and confused. “I hate being a maid. I wouldn’t take the job for a million dollars. I don’t like it one bit. I am just a worthless servant without meaning. I am supposed to be your slave!  This is all wrong.  You left me on my own, and now I am angry and want to tell you to shove it.”

He chuckled slightly. “Ok, I get that now. Calm down…it will be alright.”  That last said as he grabbed a hold of me by my hair and pulled me down close to his chest. “I am sorry I left you alone. I’m here now and you are fine. Now, go and finish packing.”

At once I was feeling shaky and crying a little and very much relieved.

He had not actually left me physically alone.  Instead he was emotionally disconnected. Long work weeks for both of us and too many responsibilities to vanilla life had distracted us without us even knowing it. He had left the building as surely as Elvis; I kept right on doing things he normally would have told me to do.

I did not wait. I did not get still before my Master and wait for his will.  I assumed. I made myself into a worker bee instead of an owned beloved slave. Rush, rush all about I went.  Doing, doing, doing…never realizing I was paddling my little canoe farther and farther away from the safety of my shore.  By the time I noticed I was drowning, I was a mess.

Master towed me back into shore.  He never pointed out that I was the one who had gotten me into trouble.  Like a father lovingly drying off his half-drowned little girl he simply made sure I was alright and knew already the lesson was taught plainly enough by the experience.

I do so love him. He is the steady ground. Thank you Master.

Why I Love Teaching About M/s

I was asked today, “Are you not allowed to…?”  The question was about something small, I don’t really remember what it was that the person was asking if I was ‘allowed’ to do but when the question was asked I felt several emotions at once.  I was surprised by my emotional response.  At the time, the question was answered in a fashion as the conversation went on its merry way without any notice of my emotional response. No big deal but I find myself thinking about it again.

What emotions did I have? Well, first I guess it was defensive.  Not personally, but defensive of my Master.  I felt as though I did not want him or his way of managing my life to be seen as wrong or bad.  There was nothing in the way or words of the question that should have caused this emotion, but there it was anyway.  Why?

I also felt a bit embarrassed.  Not shameful, but more like when someone asks you a specific question about how you like to have sex. The blushing sort of “that is personal” kind of embarrassed feeling. Again, why?

The last emotion was confusion.  I didn’t know for sure how to even answer the question.  Was I ‘allowed’ or ‘not allowed’?  The short answer I gave was, “Well it isn’t that I am not allowed but sort of.”  That was pretty well a non-answer but that’s what I had at the time. Yet again, why?

Why did the question elicit defensiveness, embarrassment, and confusion? As I think about it, the answer seems simple but meaningful to me.  I couldn’t answer because there is not a paradigm in my world of ‘allowed’ or ‘not allowed.’ The meaning to me was in why the emotions I felt were there at all.  I realized there is a history in my baggage compartment associated with what M/s ‘ought’ ‘should’ or ‘is’ supposed to be.

The baggage that actually generated the fuel for those emotions include the following ideas: Masters are assholes that demand their rules be followed. Slaves are under a burden of rules and protocols. Master’s rules must be followed or to the curb with the slave. Slaves are without rational logical personal decision making skills. Masters are jerks and slaves are weak.

“Really, personal baggage, does that make any sense?” I ask myself.  Is that all still stored up in my attic somewhere?  Wow, I thought I had long ago tossed those notions out.  But there they were, lurking.

There was a time years ago before I was owned by Master when I was in the BDSM community but not in an M/s dynamic.  I knew people who used the terms ‘Master’ and ‘slave’ but did not understand what that meant.  After a little while I thought I came to an understanding of M/s because I had talked with some people about it, read a few things, and been to a few events.  I thought that pretty much Masters were assholes and slaves were doormats.  I didn’t know a damn thing but that is ok.  It takes time to learn about new things in life.  Growing up in kink is natural and we all had to do it sometime. I learned more, I listened more, and I opened my heart and mind to the people I met.

Time and experience led me to come to a place where I know that Masters and slaves all are different. Maybe some M/s couples are like that stereotype but all the folks I know in M/s now are certainly deeper, more vibrant, and wonderful than those first silly assumptions falsely led me to believe. Now I know that I am a slave and not at all a doormat.  I know Master is a loving, generous, intelligent, and encouraging man who has dedicated his life to protecting and fostering me into my best potential. Now I see the beauty and wonders of living my life as an authentic and fulfilled woman who has chosen to enter into a 24/7 commitment to serving his will above all else.

So back to the question that raised internal hackles. Why? Why is because I forget that to other people my choice of lifestyle does seem like an ‘allowed to’ vs ‘not allowed to’ continuum.  Internally, there is no ‘allowed’ or not, there is only this is the way it is because he says it is the best way.  I forget that the external expression of rules and protocols does look a little like I saw it when I was a new person in the lifestyle.

I have benefited from the time others further along the path took to teach me.  I will always be grateful to those folks and the hours they spent talking with me. Without them, I might never have arrived at this place in life. This is the reason I enjoy teaching and presenting about M/s so much.  I want to give my time, my energy, my love to those who have questions.

Will and Willingness

At an M/s group meeting we recently attended, the topic of what sustains M/s came up.  As the discussion progressed the question was raised, “How much of the dynamic is by force of the Master’s will and how much is the slave’s willing obedience?” My answer then was that my willingness has at the root, literally in the word itself and conceptually in origin, his will. As I think more about this it truly describes how I function in world.  I am willing because it is his will. This is where I reside internally, a place where there is no question about whether to be obedient or not.

That said there is a gooey center to this lovely piece of emotional chocolate. There are times I find myself at odds and in an argument with Master.  How can this happen?   How can this be possible?  How is it that in my deepest soul, I am bound under his leadership by a bond of love, respect, joy, gratefulness, and understanding and yet there are times that we fight like vanillas?  I often fretted over these times of discord. Worried myself sleepless thinking, ‘Does this mean we aren’t M/s?’ or ‘Am I not really a slave?’  Over time, as I have grown in my understanding of who and what we are, I have learned there is nothing to fear.  No terrible secret failure that is earth shattering or relationship ending.  We are fully at all time Master and slave. That never changes.  The ‘how’ is much simpler than that.  We are human. As ideal as so much of our relationship is, the reality is we are still fully human.

I spent several years of my adult life in a radical Christian faith. By comparison, Pentecostals were too liberal and snake handlers weren’t strong enough in their faith. I was raised a devout atheist so when I decided to become a Christian I approached the bible as a full uncompromising reality. If there was a Christian God, then I was going to follow fully and totally everything God wrote in His book. In those years, my daily prayer always had one constant request, “God please take my free will.”  This made perfect sense to me.

Theologically, I understood that God had given humans free will so that we could choose to love Him or not; that making that choice provided greater depth to the relationship between created and the divine. I understood that, but that accomplished, there seemed no further need for me to continue to have free will.  That mission of accepting faith was complete, surly I could reasonably now pray for God to dispense with free will in me and allow me to always walk in the best plan He had for me.  I wanted to serve God without rest, restraint, or doubt so free will needed to go. I lamented God’s apparent lack of agreement with my theory and prayed daily hoping it would one day be granted.

Years after leaving the church and faith behind, I found M/s.  The call of M/s was to that very same place inside of me that had prayed for the removal of free will.  Now, once again I am faced with a Master who does not agree with my theory that free will ought to go out to the curb on Tuesday. He enjoys the taste of my blood, sweat, and tears best because they are given by one who could choose to not give them but does so anyway.

Yes, I am still human, still burdened with free will. Enslaved and permanently his, but still with faults and shortcomings. M/s does not create angels; it allows him to tend me as his beloved sheep. Yes, his will is always my will unless I am off track and wandering onto a dangerous rocky ledge.  He finds joy in bringing his girl back into his fold. I still hope everyday that I can buck off this damn free will, end my lack of perfect willingness.  I move closer all the time and he watches over me taking pleasure in my effort.

On the Road Again

Most of my life, I have moved often and with rabid excitement. As a child, my family moved every few years.  I would be so excited about seeing the new place we were going to move, meeting new people, figuring out what was good and what was cool, and tasting all the fruits it had to offer.  Once I got married and began venturing out in the world as an adult, I continued to move with ever more frequency.  I lived up North, down South, and even in the middle.  I traded freezing cold snow storms for blazing sun then back to snow angels without a second thought.  I bounced about learning all the ways people were the same and ways they were different. I often have described myself as a gypsy at heart.

In 2004, I moved to Texas. Since that time I have lived in the same neighborhood.  I moved from an apartment to a rental house and then from the rental to my own house. In case you had not noticed, it has been 8 whole years.  I have never been in one town or state that long before.  I find myself rather dazed and confused by the notion that I have evidently settled down.  I traded my gypsy caravan for a farm house.  Planted roots and grown.

Most of the time, this seems to suit me well.  Prior to moving here, I would grow tired of my surroundings, get itchy for the change and bustle of a move.  I would feel as though I needed to move to simply feel normal.  Now I don’t feel that way.  I love so much being in my Master’s house, watching my children grow, and building friendships that are much deeper than any I’ve ever had before. I am happy, content, and vibrantly fulfilled…except for…that damn road.

The road on occasion calls to me.  I long to see places I have never been. Explore new terrain, new faces, and new cultures.  I love the whoosh of trees whizzing by on a long highway.  I adore sitting with my face plastered to an airplane’s window as I fly over unknown territory.  Over a year ago I noticed that when I had time to daydream, I would daydream about “What would I do if I won millions of dollars in the lottery?”  Always my fantasy would turn to travel.

I know it is cheesy to evoke the words of Willie Nelson to set the tone for a piece of writing. It seems sort of lame in a way.  Drawing on the poetic and campy beloved song “On the Road Again” sounds trite. Simple and to the point Willie gives his song images and feelings we all can connect with.  Friends, gypsies, music, and love-good stuff really. Going places that we have never been, there is an allure in that.  For me, it is a lusty allure.

Master is a watchful sort.  He doesn’t jump on an idea without letting it simmer.  He listened to my rambling and chattering and over time seemed to come to a conclusion. His girl needed a little road time. We had presented here and there over the years at local kinky events.  He wanted to focus more energy on teaching and presenting.  He saw things in the leather community that he respected and wanted to support. And there was that girl of his daydreaming about being on the road again.

Ultimately after much thought and consultation with fabulous mentors, he decided we would run for our regional M/s title in 2013. He set me to the task of submitting proposals outside of our Austin area. Sure enough, invitations began to come in. We traveled to Phoenix, AZ and presented at the Southwest Leather Conference in January. Oh how I pasted myself to the airplane window!  During the whole weekend, I drank in the views, people, sounds, and teaching. We attended South Plains Leather Fest in Dallas and while closer to home, I still felt that passion for adventure aroused.

In the coming months we are scheduled to present at Tribal Fire in Oklahoma, Northern Exposure in Alaska, and Great Lakes Leather Alliance in Indianapolis. We are also attending Northwest Leather Fest in San Jose and the Master slave Conference in Washington DC. I am buzzing with anticipation. Traveling is like a fetish for me, I am giddy just thinking about it. Teaching and learning from all the wonderful and varied folks we will meet is joyful.  Seeing the places they play, live, and work will be exhilarating. I am so excited. On the road again, making music with my friends.  For me, at Master’s side, nothing could be a better life.

Thank you to Master for seeing in me my heart’s desire and finding space in his life goals to bring them to reality.