Palace of the Brine

Lately i've been feeling lost, adrift, missing the warm weight of His dominance. Every wave of His hand as He casually dismissed one of my apologies for a missed task was like punch in the gut. After much introspective thought and the lending of a few kind ears, i had come to a conclusion. After two years with Sir, the fact that i was still expecting reinforcement on the most basic of things was kind of laughable. He has already put in more than enough work to get me up to speed on those things, and how could He possible improve me further if i couldn't prove aptitude in those basic procedures when left to my own devices?

Le sigh.

The spiral successfully brought to a halt, and bolstered by the same epiphany i must have had half a dozen times already this past year, i brought the subject up to Sir. i told Him everything i had been feeling, and everything i had been thinking, and the conclusions i had come to. He listened intently, making a few comments here and there, but mostly just letting me get it all out.

He seemed satisfied with my analysis, and a comfortably pensive silence followed, only to be broken by the most horrific command i could ever dread to hear.

"Go eat an olive."

i balked, "NO, You can't mean it!!!" and covered my face with my hands, tears already springing to my eyes.

"Go. Eat. An. Olive."

Sir has been threatening to force me to eat olives ever since i was dumb enough to let slip that i HATED the fucking things, almost to the point of phobia.

For some reason, after He issued that command for a second time, although my mind was railing against it, my body sprung to obey. i went sobbing to the kitchen and grabbed a fork. As i rustled in the fridge to find the jar of olives that awaited their time to garnish Sir's martinis, it was as if i was watching myself from outside my body, helpless to stop what was to come.

i speared one of those disgusting orbs on the tines of the fork, and briefly reflected that olive drab was an incredibly aptly named colour.

A sudden panic gripped me. Sir told me to 'GO eat an olive'. i was to do this alone. i flashed back to an incident from my youth, my sister with black olives wedged onto her fingertips, chasing me while i tore through the house, shrieking at her to get those fucking things AWAY FROM MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

i suppose the me of six months ago would have mentally run through all the possible escapes from this situation. Quietly placing the offensive food bit into the trash bin. Hiding it in a cocktail shaker to dispose of later. Refusing, and taking a beating instead. Alien abductions. Anything. Surprisingly, none of those things ran through my mind until the disgusting salt ridden green mass was already in my mouth.

i rushed back to Sir's feet, desperately trying to chew and choke down the olive, gagging and crying and shaking all over. i think He said something soothing, but i can't remember anything but desperately trying to not vomit all over myself.

Being allowed a drink to wash down the last brined chunks was the greatest blessing in recent memory.

After, i huddled at His feet, as worn and drained as any beating has left me, and He stroked my hair and told me i was a Good Girl and He was very proud of me.

It was the oddest thing. i was so profoundly grateful. Later, when i could muster words, i thanked Him again and again.

For making me eat a fucking olive.

Resolution

Every knot was an intention, a manifestation, a prayer.

Many of them i whispered my mantra to: "Obey, serve, love, excel", every one filled with my promise, and purpose.

Others carry my hopes, dreams, wishes, and plans;

i will live closer to the Earth.

i will renew my yoga practice.

i will strive to treat others with loving kindness.

i will strive to treat myself with loving kindness.

i will live outside the chains of expectation.

i will be patient, and therefore peaceful.

i will manifest love and joy in my daily living.

i will be more myself, being His.

i will find beauty wherever i walk.

i will always seek Truth.

These things i carry with me, now, locked into place, part of me. An ever-present, nearly intrinsic reminder of where my path lies. These things i bind to myself, in knots that can't be untied.
i wish everyone blessings in the year ahead.

Over the river and through the woods...

Tomorrow (or, later today) we are hitting the road headed North, to my family's for the holiday. This will be the first time i have spent Yule at my mother's in...years. Numerous years. Like a fifth of my life. i'm only anxious because i'm expecting the fear. For the first time ever, i really have no real apprehension about the holidays at that house. It's only because Sir will be there.

i haven't had what you would call a "normal" family upbringing. my mother signed me into state's custody my first year of middle school. i spent the remainder of my school years bouncing through foster homes and other placements, never really settling anywhere. So really, this whole "let's get together and be family 'cos CHRISTMAS" is really sort of a foreign concept to me. Add to that the fact that my mother has the manipulative skills of an MI6 operative at the top of their game, well, 'scuse me for not getting my warm fuzzies all up in the eggnog, too.

When Sir first met my mother, i must admit i watched Him very closely. i was terrified she would lull Him into a sense of security, like she was some kind of harmless. If He had bought the act, i think...i think we wouldn't be where we are now. He didn't, though. For once in my life i saw her lose, and i won. i won because He is my safe place, and my family. It broke a hold she had over me, and all the...crap...i had carried, vanished, BAM, just like that.

So i have this complete lack of trepidation, now, and for some reason, it scares me. How much of my identity did i wrap up in the woes of being my mother's child? It really is the core of the whole of my "story".

Or, it was.

Today i will look forward to what is yet to be written, my story with Him, instead of rereading chapters.

Enlightenment, then the laundry.

"True teachers not only impart knowledge and method but awaken the love of learning by their own reflected love." -Robert Grudin

i was incredibly blessed to be able to attend Raven Kaldera and Joshua Tenpenny's "Edges of Power" M/s intensive this past weekend with Sir, hosted by the amazing folks at Castle Griffin. i want to start by thanking everyone for making such an awesome experience possible. (Thank you thank you thank you!)

Yes, no one can tell you how to run your M/s relationship. However, there are some amazing resources out there. Raven and Joshua are providing an incredibly useful thing for so many, and i am grateful not only that they exist, but that they share their experience and vast knowledge with others. They are amazing teachers, and the world is better for it.

It's funny how the Universe works. A year of our relationship was based in spirituality, this past year was based in M/s, and this weekend had both. It was like coming full circle. i was excited for the spirituality bit, and ended up being blown away by the revelations brought about by the nuts-and-bolts part.

"The contradiction so puzzling to the ordinary way of thinking, comes from the fact that we have to use language to communicate our inner experience which in its very nature transcends linguistics." — DT Suzuki

More revelatory than the workshops themselves is what we did with the knowledge laid before us. i wish i had the words to share the epiphanies the learning prompted. i don't. The most important work we did this weekend was not learning in class, but using that learning to further us outside of class.

Some of what i can explain is just too deeply personal to share. Some of what i can't explain i wish i could share with everyone. So it goes.

All i can say is sometimes, the stars align and you receive a transformational experience. This was such a time, and i will carry it with me always.

“Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.” - Zen proverb

Expectation breeds Disappointment

A little bit ago...

Sir had just arrived Home from work. i was making His drink before i got ready to leave for work. We were talking about our days, and i slipped in a bit of complaining (working 'two' jobs, not seeing Him as much as i would like, i had a sad). He nodded, murmured some affirmative, and continued talking about His day. i turned back to completing His beverage.

Something must have crossed my face, because He broke off and demanded, "What is it?"

i felt silly saying it, but i dutifully answered; "i had..i guess i had expected some...sympathy?"

He laughed, "If there is anything I need to drill into your head, it's to not expect so much." (poking me in the 'silly cunt' button on mah head.)

''What's your job?"

"To do whatever You say?"

"Yes. Remember that, and expect that I love you and will always keep you, but beyond that, you get what you get."

Epiphany!

(Expectations, letting go of, working on it)

iftaḥ simsim

iftaḥ simsim

"i just don't like anyone's hands touching me...down there..."

"Anyone's but MINE, you mean."

i didn't squirm away, or hastily clamp my thighs together, every time, but Sir knew i had locked myself away inside, far away from where His hands were exploring. He stopped. He didn't have to, He has that right to do something whether i want it or not, but He did. He wants me to like this thing, not grit my teeth and bear it.

"Just relax", He said, as His hand settled onto me, His elbow gently nudging a protective knee aside. i took a deep breath, to quell the panic. i was fighting to not go screaming back to that dark, unspeakable place. The place i would tell anyone i had left behind, a place of paralyzing fear. The wrong place. i take another deep breath.

For a moment, i'm awestruck by how BIG His hand seemed, like He was cradling the whole of me in His palm. i let the warmth of it flow through my skin. Finally, i can meet His eyes. "Open". It's nearly a whisper.

Muladhara, and the rest of me, burst open like like a spring flower kissed by sunlight. i never even knew how cold it had been. For the first time in memory there wasn't any fear. i was safe in His hands.

A hundred million moments lived in that instant. There was sensuality, a sense of security, lust, confidence, forgiveness, healing, stability, awe, love. It is times like these when He breaks me, blows me apart to remake me into something stronger, more beautiful.

This morning i was quiet, as i usually am after He cracks me wide open. It's a little death and a big rebirth, and i'm still raw, fresh and brand new. He draws me close and tells me how proud of me He is, "you always handle the really hard stuff so well". He kisses my forehead, and i am utterly content.

i am not so much a warrior when He hurts me more than i thought i could take, than when He heals me more than i think i can stand.

Hi ho, hi ho...

is off to work bells goes...

i am only a bit apprehensive. i haven't worked outside the house since i've belonged to Sir, and i welcomed the flexibility and extra time working from Home gave. Happy Sir, Happy Home.

i stopped working to tackle the job of motherhood, that and the rest of my domestic duties and service to Sir taking up almost all the day. The time has come, though and Sir is sending me out to join the workforce. i found a position rather easily, a part-time combination scullery maid/sous chef and hopefully one day sommelier. (That damnable social anxiety thing, i'm going to need some serious aftercare at the end of the day. ^.^)

Really, i couldn't be more thrilled that i wasn't stuck doing months of job searches, but truth being, i'm not so overjoyed at the prospect of not being Home, doing the normal chores/childcare/service things i usually do. i like the routine, and i dislike when it's interrupted momentarily, let alone completely revised.

The biggest mental hurdle i face is not in the fact that i’m leaving the house to work, but when. Evenings and weekends, when Sir is Home, and i am normally serving Him. i try to frame my perception of the paycheck as service, but it’s hard to find joy in service expressed as cold digits instead of the, y’know, adoring personal service i usually provide during that time. That’s the stuff of warm fuzzies. Clocking in, not so much.

Knowing all that, i also know that i will get to a place of acceptance, maybe even enthusiasm, about this new service. i’m just not there, yet.