Responsibility

In recent post Take Control or Submit, I began talking about concepts in BDSM that feel relevant to my learning. I feel like the practice resonates with me even if I am not always actively practicing it sexually. Power and dominance has a language that also encompasses responsibility.

Dominants assume a great amount of responsibility. They must track limits, and often teach their submissives to actual make choices and define for themselves what they need. Under no circumstances are the needs of the Dominant to color the needs of the submissive. There are sheets of limits and checklists for people to use for reference.

Tasks are a beautiful way of creating connection between a Dominant and a submissive. I have had those submissive to me keep a running list of tasks to track the ways we connect…anything from a one time thing to an ongoing daily activity. Customized tasks can help the submissive address areas of growth. For example, I forbid a submissive from hiding his cock from me in pics. I wanted him to see his own body the way I did. There is no sense in shame when I can tell him he is beautiful. It saved him the energy of strategic photography and allowed him to present himself to me as fully vulnerable.

Submitting to a Dominant is freeing at times, when the Dominant can be trusted. If the Dominant remembers every boundary without flaw, and allows the submissive to stretch safely, it feels easy. I had some really great experiences submitting, and receiving the submission of a partner. I also had some shitty sub drop experiences when my Dom communicated poorly and left me directionless after fostering dependent connection.

When developing my own Domme voice, it was not surprising to find that I am a care taker. It was not a surprise to find the unconditional submission of a partner. It was a surprise to me to feel that as a weighted responsibility that was more than I could handle. Fostering close connection, reliance, trust…it is beautiful. When I needed space to breathe, it meant I dropped my submissive hard. He went from the warm glowing comfort of ownership to nothingness. I stayed with him through that, talked him through that, but I was very surprised by the power of that bond.

I have not left him to fend for himself as my Dom did to me. I didn’t fail my responsibility for his well being despite ending the active practice of that dynamic. When I look around at others in the practice, it seems more often than not, that Doms are okay with just walking away and letting the submissive take care of their own pain.

If you are privileged enough to earn the trust of a submissive, you must pay for that with flawless attention to after care. That is for one session or an ongoing, ever present dynamic. The responsibility is there when someone calls you by your title, and it never really ends. You can release your submissive, and you can dissolve your dynamic, but the imprint within the mind is made. Will your imprint be positive, colored by clean, clear energy? Or will your imprint be negative, colored by negligent, pungent pain?

I may never practice a sexual power dynamic again because of the level of responsibility I felt. I cannot stand the idea that my imprint on another is anything but radiant joy.

I cannot imagine a scenario in which I submit to another Dominant in an ongoing way. Reliance on another isn’t predicated on power dynamics expressed, but that bond is special. I learned of its potential power, and I will practice only with eyes wide open in the future.

My hope is that people reading this…and thinking about exploring BDSM…I hope that people will take the responsibility seriously, and practice with skill and awareness. You are responsible for caring for your partners beyond the fuck. Do not crawl into another person’s mind and take a proverbial shit. Be careful, be cautious, and be loving.

Cuppa Contentment


We drink from this crazy cuppa confusion, thickly infused with dissonance cognitive 
Our hands tremble, soiling our clothing with spilled consternation 
Fingers burning while gripping handled curvature   
One after another 
Cuppa constant conflict 
Cuppa cutting chaos 
Cuppa complicated clutter 
… 
We drown in this cursed cuppa Covid, masked and dripping in cuppa contamination 
Our control challenged, carrying others with forced compliance 
Vulnerability boiling while crying in crescendo 
One after another 
Cuppa calcified crust 
Cuppa caustic chemical 
Cuppa chunky contaminant 
… 
We drink habits and taste with old pallet, tongue trained poorly by burning constant 
Our new course created, throwing out cloaked cloudiness 
Freshness creating while clarified water steams our creativity 
One after the other 
Cuppa quiet 
Cuppa clear 
Cuppa calm 
… 
We sit on couch cushions in sunshine’s energy clean, contemplating with growing certainty 
Our future seen, deciphering from clumping tea leaves through clarity 
Draping my legs over yours, on my knees rests your cuppa complete 
One after the other 
Cuppa cuddle 
Cuppa comfort 
Cuppa confidence 
… 
We breathe in and out taking sips cautious, cuppa compassion is robust with flavorful cooperation 
Our guts made sure, by cuppa care in two hands cradled 
Occasional cuppa chance, but not enough to disrupt our preference for cuppa chill. 
One after the other 
Cuppa celebration 
Cuppa commitment 
Cuppa contentment 

Vulnerability breaking

Years ago I took a class on body language communication from a world renowned mime. I paraded around a room full of participants, and he would tap a person to freeze them. We would all then view that person as a piece of art…sculpted perfection. We would look at the softness of their hair, the expression in their wrinkles, the glint captured in the glass of their eye, the tension held in their suspended movement, their chest and breathing open or protected by the posture of their arms, their vulnerability exhibited.

If you look at any person, you can see all the things they are not divulging with words. You can see secrets they haven’t yet told themselves. The language of the body is very vulnerable. It says everything even when it is protecting itself from mortal attack.

I believe very deeply in presenting my most vulnerable self to people, specifically as it relates to partners in love. Vulnerability free and cared for is a high like no other, and vulnerability in the face of fear and trial is a low that is equal in intensity.

For the first time in my life, I want to shell up like a turtle and lay in the middle of the road waiting for the end. Where is my energy to play “Frogger” with a frenzy and time my crossing of dangers with accuracy?

When did fear take over?

It happened when I fell in love.

When all is right with us, I can do anything. When we shake, I see nothing but movement in even the most static of realities. I experience motion sickness as everything rocks. I look at the world as if infinite chaos. The vulnerability is extreme, but the opportunity is present as well.

What does it feel like to trust someone with your complete, vulnerable tenderness and have it cared for? What risks would you take to experience that? Does sacrifice or compromise feel like harsh payments when the goal is mirrored, loving, fully expressed SAFETY in vulnerability?

I want to turtle…I do.

But I will not. The shell slows me down and makes me shit at agility. Shed the shell. Remove the layers of safety that are not really safe anyway, and I run for it. NAKED. Vulnerable. Free to choose life of open, expressive, love…

Please, let me make it to the other side.

What happens when I get to the other side, and we decide it is all wrong? We hold each other, we care for the vulnerability, we heal, and then we do whatever comes next. We have learned, and we have loved, and vulnerability is still worth while.

Dreams

We are the moon that governs the waves and throws around the ocean between us.We wiggle our feet in the sand warmed by long days and sigh into the breeze of the shifting moods. We find our peace on our beach whenever the world is in need of simplification. 

We are the field of childhood freedoms and memories of the time before obligations made our choices. We feel the sponge of fertility under our feet that feeds the grass’s inspiration to tickle our fingertips. We find our space together on our backs whenever we must smell the opportunity for newness. 

We are the tent far from all paths that will shelter us from outside expectations and misunderstandings. We hear the rain outside as only a reminder that we are joined inside safe from the world washing away. We find our isolation and insulation when the growing importance of being one takes over. 

We are our dance floor of unknown band with repeating rhythm already ongoing between us. We smell the sweat pouring from the energy we have always had even before the first note was played. We find our groove and grind when the words cannot be discerned but the intent is well understood. 

We are our drum booth at session’s end, the smell of cymbals still soaked in concentration. We break the focus over the edge of desire to be close within a confinement. We find our spaces within each other knowing the answer to separation is recording endless intimacy. 

We are our dreams so that we go where we cannot while the world around us layers reasons why not. We bathe dripping in the wealth of imaginations and realize our dreams are a fraction of what will be. We find our parting nightly so that we may fool our senses into a closeness we know is ours to claim. 

Goodnight, my love. I know where to find you. 

Story time…

Once in Kik, for the hell of it

I wanted to find a group for fun

Music or bisexuals, philopsphy, NOT politic

Find a cool place local to hang in the sun

Join a group – I found, Minnesota Glory

thinking that, yes, my state is cool

want to see more..but…….eeeeeeeeee

Was more of a lesson than life’s school

“Weird” he says “We don’t get many women here”

As I state my age, sex and location for the room

She wonders, “why uncommon,” but sips silently her beer

I like Minnesota, and there is more to see and do than I do

The room stirs, with new person added

More comment on a lady in the house

Makes me feel out of place, and needing safe room padded

Makes me retreat small like mouse

Welcome, new friend, this is Minnesota Glory HOLE

HOLY FUCK! Do what? With who? You don’t know WHAT is on the other side?

I have slipped through to the other dimension like blind mole

Beer sprayed through my nose, color me brightly RED, surprised

NOPE out right away, although no kink shaming for that

I just wanted to see my state more

I wanted to know cool places for coffee with chat

I sing, “No thanks” to dick through virtual or literal hole in door.

Moral of any story I suppose is this…

The possibilities online are infinite

There are so many options, find what fits

Make sure you see the you in it.

Nope out of the things not right

Lean into the resonance true

Find your tribe and your band and your light

Use it, as YOU want and need, but be sure you learn to be YOU.

Chasing

He says he is grateful for how I reach him when he folds up, but am I chasing?

A friend asks me “Have you ever been alone….just you?”

Fuck. No. What does that mean?

I am social being. I have been married but alone forever. I have been married but without partner. I have been married, and accountable as a wife and mother and teacher and friend and leader and…and…….and……

Am I chasing the idea? Am I flailing about trying to grasp onto the nearest comfort? Or do I see him when he cannot see past his own walls? Do I ooze through cracks, seep in, expand, and make possible the crumble of the mortar carefully built by habitual hurt?

What does it feel like to chase, and not be chased? What would happen if I literally just stopped? Stood still. Would he fight for me the way I fight for him? Would he chase and position himself to break my defensive barrier?

I have been hurt habitually too. I deserve to be chased when I am too tired.

Have I ever been alone? Just me?

Yes. I have. I am.

Forgiveness

I was talking with a friend today, and he celebrates Yom Kippur. I have friends who are Jewish, but I haven’t asked enough about the holidays and traditions that are part of their faith. With the passing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg recently, I have been thinking a lot about how she expressed her faith through a dedication to justice – to be sure voices were protected by laws. Jewish faith has been more present in my mind this week that my otherwise ignorant ass will admit.

The month before Yom Kippur is the month of forgiveness. Fuck. I am late to that party. Yom Kippur is on us. Here we go…because I can absolutely get on board with the annual (if not more often or constant) evaluation of wrongs to be righted.

  • For my love, I am sorry for hurting you. I am sorry for my lack of forethought and consideration for your beautiful heart and the soul that you entrusted to my care. I am working to be the best version of myself I can be for you and for us. I am sorry that my communication needs feel like oppression for you sometimes. I am sorry for anything I have ever done or said that made you even barely question my love for you. Please, hear my apologies, and don’t shush them away with discomfort. I mean them, and you need to hear them in order to forgive me properly.
  • For my local, I am sorry I couldn’t offer you all of me. I should have seen in advance what power dynamics and that responsibility would feel like for me, and I am so sorry for the pain that was caused when we had to let go. I am so grateful for what we have and who we are, and for the understanding that has come from that hurt, but fuck. I am sorry for the hurt too.
  • For my former lovers – the lawyer and the musician… my intensity caused you both pain. I didn’t tell you that you were hurting me when you were, and I let you hurt me and make distance. You didn’t see it, and I didn’t tell you. I am sorry for keeping that secret.
  • For my husband, I am sorry for doing emotional work for you for two decades and then stopping without warning. That pivot was hard on you. I am sorry for the pain I am dragging you through now, and the pain that is still to come. My abilities are very compromised, and our process will be difficult. I cheated on you…many many times. I am sorry for that pain whether you know about it or not, though I am not sorry for the affairs that were essential to my process. I am sorry I wasn’t strong enough to both care for my own needs and yours.
  • For my children, I am sorry for the impact my current crisis has on each of you. I am not present for dinners and processing and life in the way I would choose if I could. I love you both and I want you to learn the strength I lack.
  • For my friends, I am sorry for the emotional drain that I am on each of you lately. You worry about me, and there isn’t anything you can do to help. I have caused you pain by shutting you out, but I have learning that has stretched me beyond being able to handle your well-meaning concern.
  • For Mom and Grandma, I am sorry my life makes you embarrassed. I am sorry you worry about me and that causes intense stress. I am sorry I am not able to offer you comfort.

Here is the rub in all of this…I look back at lists of atonement for things…and I am apologizing for taking up space. There must be a handbook for healthy atonement practice. And how do I forgive myself for the pain I have brought into my own life? How do I ask for and offer grace when the hurt is ongoing?

Oh, my heart, how do I atone for the cuts I inflict?

What ointment will heal, treatment’s positive outcome predict

My heart, I did this to you knowing the pain

I, self, me…my own apology’s fruitless refrain

Let me use my own fingers to paste firm my own heart

Let me use my own lens to see gritty debris picked apart

Please let the sea salty, winds wailing, and moans nauseated abate

Let self love and forgiveness in through the rusted locked gate

I am sorry, my self, for the wrongs and fright

Please forgive, my self, and atone to make right.

Developing…

I write oddly, I think. It leaks out sometimes, blurts out sideways sometimes, and other time it pours through the levy destroyed. Lately, I cannot contain it. I am stressed and saturated in feelings. I wrote this when I was talking with my love tonight, and I want to develop it:

Faith slower restored

Blinding pain not ignored

Energy lost, floored

Tears, endless, poured

As with any idea, theme, melodic idea, or artistic expression, development is magic. The first iteration is inspired although particularly raw in its crudeness. There is a vulnerability associated. The idea takes on growth, play, improvement, work. It struggles and flexes and trembles as it stretches. It fails sometimes.

I had an idea, to explore my own sexuality and my willingness to be open, honest, and vulnerable. As I developed that idea, I met people and I learned. The past several days, the development has broken down. I want to crawl back inside myself and stay there.

Faith slowly restored as debilitation cannot be ignored

Energy lost, my independence floored, while tears endless are poured

Bleeding heart, tunnel bored, to hemorrhage hopeless insecurity scored

Please hold me on beach shored, so water can clean the past torrid.

I just want to be on the other side…

I am paralyzed with fear, uncertain obstacles in blindness

blindness with other senses impaired, nothing left to right my navigation

Which way to the other side? What good is the compass named kindness?

Kindness crippled and marred and scared with fearful indecision

I just want to be on the other side…

All information is good information, to further inform my choices

choices filled with pain and the information missing feels load bearing

How much on my head will fall if I fail to understand the voices?

Voices shouting, angry drooling, the ramifications so obviously glaring

I need to drag myself to the other side…

Oppression takes so many forms, masks and pretending I am okay

I am not okay today, but maybe I will be okay tomorrow

Tomorrow is hope and that hope I will borrow to survive this day

I need hope, faith, I will pull the credit, deep debt borrow

Please, let this be enough to get me to the other side…

Stand by my side, have my back, hold my hand

Lend me your stamina and your endurance

Be with me, one with me, my tribe, my band

I need help to make this journey, to take this chance

Hold me while I get to the other side…

I am going to falter and fall and lose my shit, lose it all

All feels lost in the rubble and I am flat under its weight, on the floor

Cannot see beyond glaucoma haze to the future clear crystal ball

Cannot open the window painted shut, cannot look at mirror’s broken cut, cannot crawl through the door

I need to be carried to the other side…

Today…I want to run and the plans are detailed and intense. Fight or flight impulse has me tearful as I talk to a lawyer and say I want nothing of what my marriage has to divide. I want absolutely nothing other than to survive this. What do people do who have no money or support systems? What on earth do people do? I had a one hour long consultation with a divorce attorney today…and my entire being is imploding. I am coping with stress by vomiting words. Then I will stuff it, work, go home, and pretend that I am fine.

I am not fine.

Take control or submit

Along my journey, I found some tools. They are sexuality tools, but they make profound sense outside of sex. I am talking about Dominance and submission, I am talking about BDSM, but beyond that…I am talking about the struggle balancing the desire for control with the release of control relinquished.

Over the next few posts, I want to talk about an accidental path I found. I am not sure if I will continue down the path. I may blaze my own trail back to the middle road. I may sit here a little while and think or sleep or dream. I may turn around and travel back to my diversion point. I may invoke magic and click my ruby red slippers to send me back to my home and my comforts.

Look at what I have learned though…

  • BDSM is not essential for me, but there are things to learn within its language.
  • I am a switch, and whether or not I practice it sexually, I feel it as an accurate descriptor of my spirit.
  • Power and dominance has a language that also encompasses responsibility.
  • Relinquishing power is amazing too, but it is NOT a substitute for making actual decisions about needs, wants, or desires.
  • Intensity of experience within the Dominant/submissive dynamic needs to be well respected for the equal intensity of potential drop in feelings associated when something goes wrong.
  • Aftercare…this is the most important part of any dynamic. I am learning to prefer to call it “allcare” – preparatory care, care throughout, and care after. Frankly, this is about every interaction with every partner EVER.
  • Every learning experience requires evaluation. Hindsight…in retrospect…now that I think about it…
  • My labels can be stretched, but the most relevant ones, those swell to encompass new ideas. Stretching…always tends to snap back…sometimes leaving a welt on the skin from the energy of the stretch released.
  • I want to write more, because that work matters to the development of my voice. I want to say out loud that Domme inside me. I want to surrender my will sometimes too. I want to be clear though…these voices are not about leather outfits and floggers. They are about decisions, responsibility, and the intimacy related to sharing that balancing act with a partner. I don’t need to practice BDSM to be a switch. I just need a partner who sees my spectrum and appreciates me whole.

I am taking control of my life and my decisions. I can say what I want and need, and I will make my life my own…for me…with my partner or partners over time. Call me Aria, I am solo voice…but I am not singing for myself alone. Can you hear me?