Sunday, October 25, 2015

For This Life

Sometimes life whispers in my ear...A voice so familiar, and I wonder if she spoke to me before my time as I now know it began...

For this life you will need
you will bleed
you will give it everything you are, were, and ever could be.

To live, to truly be alive, always knowing that one day everything you love must die
for this you will throw your soul into the fire
drown in the seas of misery
taste the tears of of your fears
feel the passion of pain
occasionally wondering if you have gone insane
anything to avoid the sands of mediocrity.

For this life
it is glorious, beautiful, obscene, sacred, degraded,
and everything in between
and for the privilege of pain
you will brave the salty seas
be torn apart in the storm
hoping that your tears will sate the parched earth.

To live
in agony
in ecstasy
desperately trying to avoid the spaces between
wherein dwells the mediocrity for which you will hold the deepest distaste
you will suffer the stars in your bones whispering
always calling you home.

For this life
you will bear witness to death
and her inevitable call
all that you love
and all that you know
will eventually travel home

Monday, October 12, 2015


I realized something today as I was listening to this song...

All this time I thought that I was missing
a place
things that we used to do
something we used to be
a way that things used to feel
the life that we once lived
a piece of me and what I used to be
some kind of specific set of life events or way of living...

But what I miss, why I feel like part of me is gone, like an angel found without wings, or someone missing a very large piece of their whole, is not any of those one thing, or even necessarily a combination of them all.

I miss magic. Something I never really knew I had because it was a part of me, all around me, so much of me, for my entire life.

It's not the wind, it's the whispers of magic in the air.
It's not the stars and the moon, it's the way magic dances in their beams.
It is not the people, but the general acceptance that magic is real.
It is not the dominance and submission, but the feeling of having known each other for a thousand years, having been in love a hundred times before, the knowing flowing through my bones of battles won and lost across the sands of time.

What has me all eaten up, all turned around and inside out, is the feeling of magic being pulled from my bones like wings that I never even knew I had.

Saturday, October 3, 2015

Selfish Submission

I have always felt that motivation matters. Not in the sense of being a motivated person (though that matters too), but in the sense that what motivates someone to do something often matters as much as the action itself.

I have long felt that submission shouldn't occur simply for what the sub gets out of it, but I'm going to take a side trip before I land on that thought.

Recently, I have been thinking about what makes us do good things as human beings, and how that makes us good people. Or not. I came to the conclusion that I do good things because of the way it makes me feel, therefore, my drive to do good things is not necessarily based upon how people I may do good for those I have helped, but more selfishly upon the way giving that help makes Me feel.
Being an avid over-thinker (I have no time, but apparently this shit happens in your sleep if your a thought addict), I had to muse on it some more.
Humans are prone to wanting to get something out of their efforts, their interactions, the things they do. Maybe if what we're trying to "get" is a feeling, that isn't quite as selfish as it sounds. What kind of person doesn't feel good when they have done good by somebody else? What would motivate a person to do good if there was no personal sense of inner reward, the fact that sometimes it looks good to the outside world?
Maybe that is one of the things that makes a good person--the fact that providing something for another being who needs it offers a reward in the form of sensation, a feeling, a happiness with their own being.

I have long felt that my submission is selfish, and perhaps it shouldn't be, yet it is. Maybe in the ideal world, from a submissive point of view, submission is truly only all about what the dominant gets.
I have always felt that my submission is selfish because it often comes with the drive to experience how it make me feel, and is not always (by any stretch) about how it makes Him feel.
Yes, there have been many times I didn't want to. Many times that I submitted to events and experiences that I had no desire for, merely because it is what he wanted. Because submission is not about doing what you want to do when you want to do it, or about the things that come easy--it is about bending to another person's will regardless of one's inner desire for an experience. If submission was always about only doing what you wanted, it wouldn't really be submission. And it would be easy.

Ultimately, as a way of life, a mode of being, an arrangement of 24/7 existence, submitting is largely about what I get out of it. Submission is about how it makes me feel inside, under the surface, below the initial urge to rebel. Sometimes it's about how making him feel makes me feel.

Our D/s has been neglected lately. We had a fight the other day. One of those, "both late to work have to go because the facility will, unfortunately enough, come to a crashing halt without us" mornings. It sucked.
He craves sex and affection. I crave...Something else. He feels that his needs are not being met and he defines them clearly in sex and affection, often in the form of my submission. I feel tat my needs are not being met, and I cannot define them clearly.

So I submit. But this form of submission, it is not selfish for the way it make me feel. It is a bandage on a wound, a way of keeping the peace, of fending off his potential "fuck buddies", of not fighting and making it to work on time, of holding us together with a myriad of strings and old cloth-work patches.

I have come to the conclusion that, for me, real true honest from the core submission is selfish. That is when I'm truly there, always all in, handing over all that I am and bending to his surrounding will.
If my submission is not selfish, I'm not all in, not all there, have not given all that I am and all that I have.
Selfish submission makes me feel this:
That is the submission I ache for, yearn for, dream of in the dark. And I get there through my often selfish desire for that particular sensation of being.