Favorites of 2013

Chess camp has eaten my life, (Ithinkihatechessithinkihatechessithinkihatechess) but I put this post together throughout the year, and it would be remiss of me to miss posting it before the next year rolls around. I compiled this list over the course of the year, and I almost forgot to post it.

There are a few posts that were not written this year, and you will see a couple of authors pop up more than once, but hey, I read them all this year and some posts are just that awesome.

I couldn't find an actual title for this one, but this particular post was written by cat, of Be Pleasing Always. I found it to be incredibly hot...

Patience, from cat of Be Pleasing Always. This post says so much of what I have been learning this year, and I think it's an incredibly valuable and wonderful approach to submission.
I know that's two from cat, but how could I resist?

A Temple, This one is from Bleuame at L'heure Bleu. I was never able to form eloquent thoughts about this post, but I truly loved it. This was one of those posts that has really made a difference in my life, and I'm still pondering it.

My Most Important Job ,Written by Sir J of What Does It Mean To Be Dominant? it's just an awesome post.

"But What of Love?" Written by Her Liege at Her Liege. I have often mused on the impact of love on ttwd...

Service Sub Written by Morningstar at The Journey. This post is a wonderfully realistic take on service, and I enjoyed it immensely.

Whose Body is This?  By P Surren & E Surren at The Power of Surrender. I guess the whole body image thing is kind of a running theme for me, but I really liked the post and I enjoyed reading both perspectives.

Dominants: it starts with you, posted by Michael at The Journey. I just really loved this post, and I think it's a totally awesome look at how successful Dominance works. I'm inclined to believe all prospective Dominants should read this one.

I discovered this lovely little gem, at My Trousers Rolled. That post...It is a poignant and perfect expression of something that I have never been able to properly verbalize in any format.

grateful, by Greengirl at What I Wonder. What can say other than it's lovely, and it made me smile.

Safe Without A Word, written by Kaya of Under His Hand. I think that any submissive who has dealt with an injury can understand this feeling, and she said it so well...

Little Things, from For the Love of a Submissive. Because I liked it.

When Love and Hate Collide, By tori at Pain's Pleasure. Because it's a truth that is difficult to put into words, and I think she did so splendidly.

Kaya did it again with Fear, posted at Submissive Guide. Because that's it, that feeling of needing to take the burden from him in whatever form that taking might be...

Untitled post another one from Her Liege. Just because it's exquisite.

I hope that some of you have a chance to check out these lovely posts, and that you enjoy them as much as I did. Let me know what you think!

Remorse

I despise the first two days of my period, and not just because I feel like Freddy Krueger's throwing a celebration inside my skin while my head implodes. No, it's also because I have this awful feeling of remorse. It's a sensation which I go to great lengths to avoid. I did not turn in the $120 I found in the milk cooler last month because I'm a good person, nope. It was because remorse and guilt are two of my least favorite emotions.

So it's really a terrible truth for me that I'm a raging bitch the week before my period. Yes, it has gotten better over the years, yes our hierarchy helps control it, and yes, it is a hormonal storm a bit beyond the norm because, well because my hormones come from their own special level of hell.
Before you ask, yes it is warm there and yes, that is the alternate dimension where some idiot lets me wield the whips and chains. And yes, in the midst of the moment, I believe everything that I just said.

Then the storm abates leaving me curled up on the couch, cringing at the sight of the destruction left in its wake, and feeling something which Alpha informs me is commonly known as remorse.

The fall is really a rather spectacular display of extremes.

I just spent a week in constant trouble spinning on the edge of acceptable behavior and not really caring what he thinks (she cringes), and now suddenly...All I want is to curl up at his feet, to know that I have pleased, for him to be happy with me, and to feel that I am where I belong.

Ah remorse. It really is a bitch.

Killing Turkey...?

Alpha caught me...I play a bit of a Grinch come this time of year, sneaky $%^*^& that he is, he called me on it, and accused me of being excited about Christmas. How dare he! She says before sneaking off to slip on her super comfy Grinch pants and stare at the tree.

I haven't cooked a turkey in years. Lots of years. And as I peer doubtfully at the suspiciously rock-like turkey in my sink, I am doubting the wisdom of doing so now. I am 90% sure that it will be defrosted by tomorrow. Never mind that I had dreams about scraping frozen guts out of it...

There was a time when our house was full for holidays. Not anymore. It'll just be us and my mom this year. But one of the things I picked up from my mother in law, was going all out, no matter how many are celebrating. So I'll be making double layer chocolate cream pie, cherry crisp, deviled eggs for the devil, and among other things, a 16 pound turkey which I may have to kill again if it doesn't soften up here soon.

The house is clean, the tree is well stocked, and the kids are healthy (for now. Another night like last night and well...)
Really, I'm soaking up the holiday feeling of semi-relaxation before my week of driving and cursing Those Who Should Never Drive On Mountain Roads In Snow.

Now I had better go exercise...That pie isn't going to eat itself tomorrow.

A Morning Much Like Any Other

It's a quiet morning here. Too cold to snow, the sun shines across the valley with echoes of warmth not quite achieved. He's playing chess, and I'm contemplating wrapping presents while the boys aren't here.
The house is cold and quiet, except for the familiar sounds of the radio, its familiar DJ introducing songs and going on about the weather.
Yet, there is an unusual quiet beneath the soft drone in the background.

A quiet of expectation and possibility.
Of anticipation and promise.
Like a current underneath the surface, this is not an empty quiet.
It is a soft quiet with hard edges, a step from the edge.
A quiet with depths as yest unseen.

It is an unassuming morning, much like any other. Except that here soon, I will shower, paying special attention to details. He cares about the details. He will notice each line where the razor missed a hair, the scent of...Everywhere.
The details matter because later, he will spread me wide and explore every single inch with a critical and attentive eye.

It is an unassuming morning, much like any other. Yet there is promise in the air. Promise that comes only when beautiful day and deviant night collide to make a glorious new dawn.

Image source unknown

He Really Crossed the Line This Time

Really, he did! Though, he of course, would argue that one can't cross a line that that they move at will, and perhaps I'm just slow on the uptake...Whatever, he's not always right.

I was mad you see, and he made me not mad. I can't even remember what I was pissed off about, but I do remember being ordered to not be angry.

"Um, excuse me? I have a legitimate right to be illegitimately angry. You can't just order me not to feel a certain way--I have a right to my thoughts and feelings!"

Then he said bossy things to me and made me laugh. Suddenly, I was honestly not at all mad anymore, which sucked because I do think I have a legitimate right to feel however I feel, and I don't think that he should be able to order my feelings around like that.

Yea...I read that that stupid sounding run on sentence too.

I just...He's done it a few times now, and I think that I'm entitled to my feelings, I mean, he has occasionally ordered them around, but his doing so didn't actually change them. Until lately.

I have this idea that if he wants to change my feelings, he doesn't think that they are valid. That's it, I want to know that he believes my feelings are valid. It's not even that I mind him ordering my feelings around, so much as I mind the thought that he might think they aren't important because they are occasionally less than desirable.

Being told what to do or not do, is a lot different than being told what to feel or not feel. My emotions can be...Overwhelming. At the right time, I might literally cry over spilled milk and consider doing so to be  perfectly  reasonable. Until I look back in retrospect, which is when it seems silly and stupid, but it really was how I felt in that moment. So perhaps those particular feelings aren't entirely valid, or in the least bit reasonable, but they are mine!

Maybe I'm just jealous because my feelings have never obeyed me. Much like my body, now that I think about it...

Still, I say that I have a legitimate right to feel illegitimately angry. According to him, he has a legitimate right to do as he pleases with me and my crazy emotions. Bastard.

Tis the Season...

I'm sitting here, alone with that first glorious cup of coffee, wondering why I feel the need to blog every day. Even if I don't really have anything to say. I think it's because I have this irrational fear that if I stop, even for a moment, all inspiration will immediately dry up and vanish, and I'll never write anything again.
But the coffee is good.

We're dropping the boys off with my mom tomorrow, and I'm finding myself to be quite nervous already. Remind me again why I want time alone with that big scary man?
I've really been struggling with this whole tightening of the reins thing. I figure that I'm due one of those epic splats that I do so spectacularly well.

I keep telling myself that

But...I like comfort! Oh yea, I want a man that pushes the limits, that's too much for me, that wants to take me further than I'm willing to go. Ha! Ongoing moment of insanity that one. I'm having growing pains in a big way.

I'm kind of dreading the week after Christmas...I volunteer as an assistant coach at the boys chess club, and I was able to get them both into a five day chess camp. For the small cost of coaching a group of ten or so little kids during said camp (trust me, I'm actually getting a great deal here). But..It's five days of driving to town very day. That's about fifteen hours of drive time...And children are really much cooler when you can take them out to the car and turn them over your knee...
It is interesting to me how few women/girls seem to play chess. Of all the kids I work with, there's only one girl. I do wonder why that is...

I'm afraid that Thing1 is going to try calling on Christmas...Thing2 was playing message girl the other day, "Thing1 says she loves you guys!" I ignored it. Inside I'm thinking, "We love her too. Doesn't change a damn thing". There is no going back over the lines she crossed, and she knows it. There will be no happy reunion or mending of family fences. Meh meh.

Now that we have that out of the way...

Did I mention that I'm having terrible growing pains? The man's making me claustrophobic. I wanna kick him in the shins and run away.
And just in case anyone gets any bright ideas about logic...

Haha!

The Dom Handbook

He was building a fire (which is sexy because everyone hates being cold), so I was already at a slight disadvantage...


"And to think that you were going to leave me because I was too controlling."
"Hey, that year/situation was not all me!"
"No, it was not. It was you and that damn shot."
"Wtf? You played a part in it all too." 

Now at an even greater disadvantage because he's looming over me with his hand tangled in my hair... 
 
"Do you remember why you got the shot in the first place? Because we were having sex all the time, and we were afraid you'd get pregnant again."
"Uh...No, I don't remember that..."
 "Then everything went to shit after you got that shot. So it was you and the shot. I had maybe a teensy weensy part."

A point he illustrated with an annoying finger measurement, suspiciously close to my nose...

 Now sitting firmly on the high horse exclusive to those with the self-righteous surety of knowing that someone else is doing it wrong, I informed him that, "Everybody knows Doms are supposed to take responsibility for their actions! It says so in the Dom handbook!"

 *Smirk*
"I wrote the handbook."

 *Pause*
 
"Can I read it?" 
I try to never miss an opportunity....

"Lol."
"Um...It was an honest question..."
"You're living it."
"I'm an experiment!?!"

Competence is Sexy

Do you ever feel as if you are probably repeating yourself, but the idea feels semi-unused, so you write it anyways? No? Just me then...

People say that intelligence is sexy. I get it, intelligence can be an extremely attractive trait, especially when one has a low idiot tolerance. But I don't find intelligence itself to be inherently sexy--I have known some brilliant people who's minds I found not in the least bit attractive.

No, my weakness is competence.

Want to see the whore in me squirming under the surface? Drop me in the presence of a competent man with a Dominant personality. I avoid them as much as I can. You know, besides the obvious pitfalls of being married to one...

Stupidity turns me off. Incompetence really brings out the mean girl in me (as my husband likes to remind me). A mixture of stupidity and incompetence, and my worst traits come pouring forth in a nastily predatory manner. But uh, we don't have to talk about that since he's not here to promote the fact.

Luckily for me, I married a man who is both intelligent, and competent. Here's the thing though--sometimes his intelligence infuriates me. There are times when he thinks circles around me, and I really just want to kick him in the shins. What can I say, sometimes those baser instincts take over, leaving self-preservation in the wind.

It's his competence that really gets me going. Oh yes, competence is definitely one of the cornerstones of a beautiful mind. So totally sexy.

Ahem, anyways...

Competence is not necessarily how much you know about something, or how smart you are--it's about how you choose to handle yourself and the manner in which you deal with challenging situations.

It's important to know that one has put their well-being in capable hands, because really, not only is incompetence a turn off, it can be downright dangerous.

Did I mention that I find competence to be incredibly sexy?
*Sigh* He says I'm easy.

More...

Sometimes I feel like no matter how hard I try, no matter how far I think I have come, no matter the amount of energy I put into pleasing him, it's never enough.

He always wants...
More.

And, if you think it's the kinky shit, you're wrong.
Morning sex
checking the mail
morning sex
more compliance on every level
morning sex
more vanilla oriented service
morning sex.

I did mention that the morning sex thing is really a big deal for me...? I know it's something normal people look forward to, but seriously--I just want to go pee without asking permission (and not in the cup), make coffee, not feel that desperate desire for release, drink the whole cup of coffee myself, and completely ignore those around me.

You know how impossible it is to ignore a Dom, right?

Sometimes it's not even because he wants, it's only because he wants me to do what he wants. So I do.
I feed the beast, and I feed it, and I feed it, but it's never sated. And often it's not kink, it's coffee and tea, errands, and tone that used to be acceptable but isn't anymore, responses which used to be tolerated that are now punishable...

I love that he is too much for me.
I hate that he is too much for me.
I hope that he is always too much for me.

The more he takes, the more I give. Until I am sure that I am empty, that there is nothing left and I hate him just a little for it. But not as much as I hate the thought that he might stop because I want him to.
He demands more and more and more, until I am so empty that I become full.
His need fills me up, his desires bind me.

I love that he is too much for me
I hate that he is too much for me
I hope that he is always too much for me
and that I will forever be striving to feed the needs of that beast
but always, always I pray that he will find me pleasing
and that he will feed on me because long ago, I asked him to let the beast free.

Time and Place

His grip tightened on my wrist as he drove slowly and inexorably into me,
"Time and place don't matter. You are always mine. No matter where we are, no matter what time it is, I own every square inch of your being in every way. Always."

On the surface, this is a simple concept. Perhaps its complexity is simple too. However, it is a vast and all-encompassing statement with repercussions far beyond the surface. To sum up something as complex as power exchange in one sentence, is not easy. Yet, he does it.
There is that natural ebb and flow, but there is no such thing as an off switch for us. One cannot take time off from being who they are.

It could be said that time is a concept I struggle with, no matter the context. It goes by so fast, you know? I ponder yesterday while I'm worrying about tomorrow and trying to get through today. It's really a terrible approach that is difficult to change.
When I focus on our D/s, on being his and pleasing him, that is when I am most often in the moment.

As a kid, I often thought about the joys of being an adult (ha--clearly, no one told me) and about how wonderful it would be when my time was my own. Now, I am at my best when I am focusing on the fact that everything in my life, even time itself, is really his.

Time...Having kids in the house 24/7 limits certain activities and the time that can be spent on them. Seems though, that we might actually be starting to get a weekend or two a month to ourselves on a fairly regular basis.
This thrills me to no end. In the way that one feels slightly sick to their stomach as they peer over the edge of a cliff...
The notion is obscenely beautiful, terrifying in it's complexity, comforting in it's simplicity and all consuming as only he can be...

Because I know that I committed to a creature of extremes, a man of an all or nothing nature, who's unbridled presence I find both terrifying and comforting.
Being alone with him is very much like being locked in a cage with an alpha wolf--the only choice is to submit. Obedience isn't optional, and complete submission is the path to salvation.
He is judge
jury
executioner
and savior.
He will make me beg for deliverance
for him, from him, to him...
I will crawl on my knees, begging for redemption
and he will say,

"Shhh, just a little bit more. Time and place do not matter. You are always mine. No matter where we are, no matter what time it is, I own every square inch of your being in every way. Always."

And always, there is the unspoken truth...

Glitchy Bitchy Blogger

Blogger is punishing me for my inability to shut up--it won't let me comment at all. Here, there, or anywhere!

I know that there are comments waiting for responses, but Blogger is being a glitchy bitch. Apparently, it thinks I need a lesson in keeping my mouth closed...

*Sigh*

On a (mostly) unrelated note, I just wanted to say that I am grateful for my readers. In the beginning of this blog, I thought that being grateful for one's readers meant caring about the numbers and letting them dictate one's writing, so I questioned the value of feeling that way.

My perspective has changed. The question became, why am I grateful for my readers? It isn't about the numbers. Indeed, if I had to say there was one scary thing about blogging, it would be the number of people who read the thoughts out of my head that find their batty tenacious way to the page.

I am grateful for the fact that I can have a shitty week and come here to drown my sorrows in self-pity, but some brave and lovely soul (or two, or three) will come along with a smart-ass, sarcastic comment that makes me laugh out loud.

I am grateful for the ideas. Sweet Goddess, the ideas! Do you ever stop to think how amazing it is? The ability to share your ideas with such a vast range of humanity while simultaneously having access to concepts and inspiration from across the globe with a cumulative scope of thought and understanding far beyond what one mind could ever hold...It's incredible!

I am grateful, and most of all humbled, by those women who stop by and they say something beautiful about my crazy place being a life raft, or my words somehow setting off one of those light-bulb moments...Seriously, sometimes you make me cry. Sometimes I fall to my knees at my Master's feet, asking how this could ever be because I'm just faulty little me. And he tells me that perhaps it's because I never pretended to be anything more than that...

Sometimes I think those moments of connection happen because out here in this endless sea of humanity, some way, somehow, we find what we need. We make those little connections, find those tiny inspirations, read those occasional sentences that sing to our souls--and we reach out. Because we can.

I am grateful for the insights I have been given. I am sometimes awed by the humility with which I have been offered the most incredible and evolutionary thoughts and ideas...

I am grateful for having this place where I can bare my soul on a page
let my mind flow into words
admit that for all it's tenderness, my soul holds a deep and abiding rage
I am grateful for the companionship of minds like mine
the voices that whisper softly across virtual pages
of their dreams, triumphs, and tears
of their fears, successes, and the toll of passing years.

I am grateful for the opportunity to be someone's candle in the dark, the light that beckons and says, "There are others like you, and you need never be truly alone."
I am grateful for the feeling in my bones when I know that I am not alone. Because I love my Master deeply, but he is not like me. He knows not what it is to crave the gift of being on one's knees, that overwhelming desire to please, the soul-consuming need to surrender all that one is and might become...

And I guess that I'm grateful for glitchy bitchy Blogger too. Because it gave me this page, this amazing place, this ongoing opportunity to empty my mind and unburden my soul.

Though, don't expect not to hear a considerable amount of bitching if glitchy bitchy doesn't get over this particular issue soon. It's your own fault for continuing to come back for more. lol

Lines in the Sand

Yesterday, I told him that I feel like the line of acceptable behavior keeps moving. There are behaviors and reactions which would have been acceptable a few months ago, but aren't anymore. I'm having a hard time keeping up.
I informed him of this fact as he was herding me towards the bedroom and a rather unpleasant encounter for my behind. It was totally unfair because I had tried to run...Ever seen a sub attempt to escape reckoning while favoring an injured foot? Well, it's not pretty. I'm told that my attempts at dignity were completely unsuccessful. 

Got distracted again, didn't I...

Ahh yes, I pouted raised the issue that he keeps moving the line and it's terribly unfair some days I have a hard time keeping up. His response was that he likes to draw the line in the sand so that he can move it whenever he wants. Uh, what happened to all that stuff about the importance of clear expectations? Oh, they're still clear, they just evolve. Hmph.

The compulsion to redraw this used to be terribly strong

I might have complained just a teensy bit. He smirked and pointed out that my corner was indeed shrinking. He asked me if I had a problem with that. Now, I might be a slow learner, but I know a trick question when I hear one--often, there is really only one right answer. Happily enough, I didn't actually have a problem with it, so it was easy to provide the correct response.

That line in the sand is tricky though...Sometimes the urge to hang a toe over and wiggle it just a teensy bit is terribly strong. Though I have found that I no longer have any desire to move the line wherever I want it. Because I need it to be wherever he draws it. Even if he does keep moving the damn thing.

I Don't Care How You Do This Thing We Do

Disclaimer duly posted

 Really, I don't care how you do what you do. I could give a shit less. If I don't like it, I just walk away because it's none of my damn business. That's the beauty of the internet.

I don't think there's anything wrong with ttwd being a game, or something that you are really serious about on the weekends, or if you live on a chain, or if you sub one day and Dom the next. I don't care if you call yourself a submissive, a slave, a Dominant, a Master, the queen of Sheba, or a friggin teddy bear.

In short, I don't care how anyone else does power exchange. I don't think that I'm better or worse than anyone else, and I don't feel that it is important how anyone else views our power exchange. I could care less where you stand on this crazy road.

The only time you are likely to see my feathers ruffle about how anyone else does ttwd, is when I feel that someone is portraying themselves and their relationship as something they are not, or walking around acting like they have all the answers and are God's gift to us lowly struggling subs who are willing to admit that, dammit, this shit isn't always easy.

Okay, so my feathers will also ruffle if I feel that I have made a reasonable effort to have a polite discussion of thoughts, and someone gets their panties in a twist and has a go at me.What can I say, I'm only human.

Sounds about right

 But I digress...

Top, bottom, submissive, slave, Dominant, Master, fucking furby, whatever--you do what you do. If I don't like it, chances are no one will ever know because I will browse on by. It's not my life, and it has not a damn thing to do with me.

This blog is about how I live power exchange, not about how I think others should experience ttwd. I write from my perspective about my struggles, triumphs, failures, growth, internal musings, and how I'm pretty sure I broke my damn toe on a chair this morning.

Blogland is not a judgement free zone. Sure, we like to think that we are reasonably accepting and everyone has their own way of doing things, but lets be honest--this is a public forum, and you are going to make judgments about me, just as I am going to make judgements about those I read.
The difference comes in what we do with those judgements, and for the most part we keep them politely to ourselves if they are uncomplimentary. That does not mean that all blogs reside at the end of the rainbow covered comfortably in unicorn pelts.

Some people are going to come on as "More submissive than thou", others will take the approach that you're in too deep, and the relationship isn't healthy.
I try to ask myself though, "Does that person's opinion really matter?" And you know what, nine times out of ten, it doesn't.

What you see is an image from someone's mind, typed out into the public domain and frozen in time. Each "scene" you read is just that--a scene. Perhaps it was beautiful and breathtaking, or perhaps it was disturbing and uncomfortable. But we only know what we read, we only see what we are shown.
I was thinking about this after my last shower post--you got the hot and heavy main story, which was a wonderful experience for me.
Before that scene I was cranky and unwilling. After the scene and the sex and the endorphin crash, I curled up on the bed in the kind of agony that comes when your body isn't working how it should, and cried.
That's the whole picture, not just the image I wrote for you.

Yes, chances are that I will judge you in some form or fashion, but you will judge me too, and I like to think that those judgements will usually be kind.
We can only judge what we are shown though. And when it comes right down to it? I don't care how you do ttwd. I care that I am what he wants me to be.
What matters to me is how I live ttwd.
And that I'm fairly certain I did break my toe on that damn chair this morning. Yep, that matters.

Batshitcrazy

You know how sometimes you're afraid that you will go off the deep end, and then one day you do something so stupid and out of character that you just know you've finally gone and done it, then your reaction just solidifies the knowledge that you are bound for batshitcrazy and there's no hope?

Oh...You don't?

Well bear with me, I'll give you a peek.

Kiddos tournament was in the city (poor guys, they had a rough go this time), and we were due for a food shopping, so it made sense for me to go shopping at the same time.
Different stores, same chains, bigger city that I didn't want to drive in, but still--everything we needed was available there.

We go down to the city once a month for a food shopping. I do the list, I make the food decisions, I keep the tally of money spent, I stick to the budget, and I always get enough of what we need to last until the next shopping.

I'm sure you can guess what the most important item on my list is: Coffee.
I buy an average of 5 pounds a month, and yes, we drink it all.

I fucking forgot to buy coffee.

When I realized this on the highway somewhere between 100 miles from said coffee and 80 miles from home, I knew that was it--I really am destined to dementia.

My reaction only solidified my certain ticket to Batshitcrazyville:
I cried.
Not just because it royally sucks to have to buy coffee that is twice as expensive and half as good for a month, or because I have to make a trip to town just for coffee, but because I forgot it.

I forget crackers, or yoghurt, or cookies, or tortillas. I do not forget the single item that we both consume several times a day. I do not ever ever forget something as important as coffee.

I have a prepaid ticket to Batshitcrazyville. Oddly enough, he doesn't seem to think I'll use it. Me, I'm pretty sure that I'm already on the train...

That Fucking Sucks

This has been one of those weeks that just keeps on giving and seems quite intent on lasting well into next weekend.

There's a big tournament tomorrow, and we have to leave at 4:30 A.M

I saw the chiropractor yesterday, which was awesome, but my head hurts worse than it has in a very long time....They have been reoccurring for so long, when they're this bad, I always have that (I hope) irrational fear that this is going to be the time when the pain never stops.

Really though...The dog didn't make it. 
I've never worked on an injured animal to the extent that I did her, and I've never lost one like that either. Until her.
And you know what? That really, really just fucking sucks.
She was a ten year old stubborn, stubborn, fat pit bull that loved all people to an almost disgusting extent.
She was a good girl, and she's gone.
Did I mention that really really sucks?

I have to get up in a few hours, so I should probably forgo further whining for the comforts of sleep.

In retrospect, I can probably put a humorous spin on tomorrow, and possibly even the pain in my skull, provided it stops. But I think I need a day or two to work up to it.

Into the Darkness

To varying degrees, we all like to play in the dark. Sure, we love our sunshine, and we often pretend that the darkness has no appeal, but that is merely a facade we create because we are often a bit afraid of the dark.

There is peace in darkness.
There is quiet.
There is curiosity about what we cannot see.
And there is a little bit of fear because we can't be totally sure what's in the darkness.

But that fear doesn't matter. Because we wouldn't be descending into the darkness without a guiding hand.

We all know that there are things in the darkness. They might be lovely, they might be terrifying, they might be a thrill ride like you have never ridden before, they might be all of the above and then some. But one can never be totally sure...

It's that age old truth of there being no light without darkness, no understanding of joy without sadness, no appreciation of pleasure without experience of pain...

It is always, always coldest and darkest before the dawn. But if one is brave and wishes to play...There is no joy like that found in the darkness just before daybreak, in the silence of one's own heart, in the quiet whispers of the soul as it bravely takes a step into the unknown...

Submission is saying, "I will follow you into the darkness". Surrender is taking that first step without sight, that first leap into the unknown. Surrender is walking into the darkness knowing that it, and it alone, leads to a glorious new dawn...And all you have to do is follow wherever he chooses to take you.

As the light begins to peek over a cold and snow covered horizon, accompanied by the sound of a softly crackling fire, I can appreciate the darkness as a place of discoveries, as a place of quiet, of harsh cold and heartening warmth...As a place to retreat to when the well-lit world outside becomes a seemingly unbearable load.

Darkness is where we hide our deepest desires, the secrets of our soul that we think no one knows.
Darkness is where we lick our wounds and trace our scars with weary fingers.
Darkness is where we hide our dreams, our sins, our tired hearts.
Darkness is where one must become blind in order to truly understand what the eyes have seen.
Darkness is where one can be what eyes alone could never truly see.

Oh yes, there undoubtedly are things in the darkness. Some of which can lead to discoveries far beyond anything we could ever see while blinded by the light.

Pride and Humility

I have been pondering the concept of humility for a while now, and I think that it is essential and integral to submission. That might sound a bit odd, given that blogging seems to be somewhat of an inherently narcissistic activity, but I digress. As usual...

Humility is a concept found in religions across the world, ranging from Catholicism to Buddhism. As such, interpretations vary.
From my perspective, humility is a state of being. Something which perhaps transcends the ideology of religion and comes to rest at the feet of spirituality. Without it there is no true surrender, no trust, no acquiescence.

To truly hand over the reins and trust him to lead the way is an act of humility--without it we cannot let go of our attachment to our own decision making, we cannot really accept that another is as good as, if not better than we are, at directing our lives.

Humility is letting go of self enough to revel in the pleasure of another.
Humility does not want, nor is it overly concerned with self.
Humility does not not struggle for control.
Humility makes room for the will of another.

To submit is an act of humility.
To be a slave is to humble oneself at the feet of their Master.
Surrender is having the humility to let go of the importance of being right.

Now pride on the other hand, pride is a far cry from humility isn't it? I know it ranks pretty high up there on the list of seven deadly sins, but so does lust, and I'm currently trying to cultivate a bit more lust in my life. So no worries there.

Pride is a tricky beast. On the surface, it interferes with humility, and contributes to arrogance. Pride really is often present before the fall, and there's nothing quite like an overabundant ego to ruffle feathers.

Pride says that it's too good for humility because pride knows best.
Pride inhibits growth by refusing to admit fault.
Pride is never wrong because pride knows best.
Pride makes the same mistakes over and over again because perfection needs no evolution.

Yet...Pride is not always a negative concept. It's kind of like love, in that it takes on many varied forms.

If one takes no pride in a job well done, then why bother?
If one cannot be proud to serve on their knees, how can one bear to stay there?
If one takes no pride in the one they submit to, how then does one yield to that person?

Pride allows us to reach for our full potential.
Pride motivates us to submit with grace.
Pride in our owners gives us the faith to surrender all that we are.

Pride and humility work best hand in hand.
It is pride and humility which give the phrase "Good girl" its appeal.
It is pride and humility which allow for the seeming contradiction of queen and slave.
It is pride and humility together, which  give us the confidence to submit and the acceptance of its necessity.
It is pride, hand in hand with humility, which allows us to seek our full potential in slavery.

Pride without humility becomes hubris. Humility without pride sees no reason to reach for one's full potential.

Yet together, pride and humility are a dance of antonyms, much like Dominance and submission.

Missing Pages

I'm feeling a bit less whiny today. Something about being nice and warm and my terrible weakness for a man with a chainsaw, I suppose...

If you've been reading here for more than a few days, you know that I have issues sticking to just one background, or even maintaining a certain subject matter. It's no secret that I would rearrange the furniture all the time if it wasn't against the rules.
As usual, I'm getting sidetracked.

For some time, there were several pages at the top of the blog. They were part of the things that are really never changed.
I had a not so little identity crisis surrounding this whole submission thing, and really put some thought into the whole concept of being, "Fraud or flawed" (an interesting and thought provoking term that I cannot take credit for).
So down came the page titled Submission, because I never really meant to give anyone the impression that I thought I knew what I was talking about, and maybe I changed my mind about what submission was because I never knew what I was talking about to begin with. Then down came the page about Dominance because it didn't really say anything since I couldn't make up my mind what to write.
The About Me and Our Story pages...In all honesty, I get more traffic than the one person I have always  imagined would be my only reader, and I felt that perhaps there was too much of our/my story in one easy read.

After our fight, I was 90% certain that the answer to my question of identity was fraud. Then we had some serious conversations, and he made me see how much I was really just holding us back from deeper explorations by being so tripped up on the basics.
It's one thing to say "I'm ready for more" it's another thing entirely to be required to prove it. And in that process of proving, I realized that I wasn't, yet I became so.
Reading that sentence, it sounds so innocuous...Yet, for me, it isn't--it seems like it should be printed across the sky in bright neon caps. Even if it doesn't seem to make sense...

In that process, my definitions and the labels that I apply to myself and my relationship began solidifying in a direction that I have known we were headed for some time.
Does it really matter whether I define myself as submissive or slave? Whether I define the parameters of our relationship as being Master and slave, or Dominant and submissive? In the grand scheme of things, probably not. They are merely places on the road in the journey of infinite possibility that is power exchange.

Yet...It does matter, because how I define us impacts my behavior and the way I view our relationship. If I think of myself as submissive, I also apply forms of thought that are not acceptable with the scope of a Master/slave oriented power exchange.
Looking back, while I would vehemently deny it and truly believe my own denials, there have been so many times in the past where I approached ttwd as a game. And it's one of the only things that really pisses him off. Because this is the way we live, not something we toy with and put away when it suits me us.

He pointed out that it was impossible for us to move forward while I was still struggling with the basics. As much as his statement made me cringe, I have to admit that he has been true to his word--when I quit wallowing in the shallow end, things began changing rather drastically for the better.

Some of the missing pages will not return. Others will. My definitions and the way we live D/s are evolving, and so must they.

Life Happens...

First and foremost, don't forget that the annual Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza is coming up on the fifth, and if you want to participate, you need to send Jz your recipe and blog URL by tomorrow!

Now onto my moaning...And not the attractive kind, lol.

I'm so sick and tired of wood...I'm not talking about the fun kind either.
I despise being cold, really no one wants to live in an icebox all winter, right? But the kids have been kinda sick, my headaches are back, I just spent two days working the splitter, and for the first time in 2 1/2 years, I'll have gone 6 weeks without a chiropractic appointment. My body hates me.

I was less than thrilled to get up this morning and hear that we're going out to get more wood. Of course, I shouldn't complain--he had to chop half of a cord by hand yesterday just to be able to unload the wood he brought her, because my mom's...Lets go with incompetent, shall we?
And nobody wants to freeze to death and die (never let it be said that I avoided a perfectly good opportunity to be dramatic).

We stumbled in last night, I was doing my usual hold-the-girl hybrid-at-the-gate-so-she-doesn't-run-off, when I realized that her neck was covered in blood. For the most part, the animals get along, but historically, there have been some pretty bad fights. They're fairly big, so if they do fight, it's not pretty. When this particular one is covered in blood, it's hardly ever actually hers.

Yea, it wasn't her blood...I spent my evening patching up the pit bull. Say what you will about the breed, but they get a bad rap--not many animals will let you scrub out and bandage wounds, after chopping off dangling skin... I have patched up some pretty bad wounds, but this time was in the running with the worst of them...Not the way I had planned on rounding out my day.
And to think, I made a conscious choice not to become a veterinarian...Still, it's preferable to patching up people in the living room--animals complain far less.

I know I have comments, and I will get to them soon...But I have to make ointment for the dog...Before my darling husband drags me back out into the woods with a chainsaw. Like how exciting I made that sound?