I like to think that people can't see into me. As a schoolgirl I worried that people might have some way of seeing into my thoughts but as an adult I've worked on the basis that if I held up a very good veneer there was no way they could know what I was really thinking. I have come to realize that I haven't fooled all of the people. I've left little hints along the way, I think, less and less prepared to hide in real life all the aspects of me that I've shared in this journal. I've allowed them glimpses of me in all my complexity.
There were only two of us left at the table when a friend needed to share an aspect of her life. I listened. I'm pretty good at listening and people know that about me. Somehow in the process of telling me her little problem she turned the spotlight onto me.
"I've thought several times that you're looking for something. There are little things over time that you've said and it makes me feel that you are on some sort of journey and you are looking for something."
I smiled. I contemplated how much to say and deemed it dangerous territory.
"Yes, I am on a journey. I am looking for something," I said. Then, I allowed the silence to sit there between us.
"Well, I hope you find it," she replied.
"Thank you," I said.
She's a polite woman and knowing she'd gone as far as she could possibly go on this day the conversation reverted to another topic without a beat missed.
Of course, I know enough to be able to say here that I'm not on a journey really; that the peace and joy I seek in my life is already there within me. That's the philosophy and I try to embrace it. I really do. It's quite exhausting to always been in journey mode; to always have a pack on your back and to have to traverse one more mountain before resting for the day.
For whatever reason, I'm looking for the trapdoor. I'm looking for other station platforms. I'm not a Harry Potter fan but the very first movie thrilled me. To think that there was a secret level at the train station that no-one knew about except the Hogwarts' students. How brilliant a thought is that!? To think that you can walk into a cupboard and enter another world like the children in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe is captivating to me.
Some days I wonder if I am less interested in a serious power exchange relationship and more interested in being transported to a magical place. It's no co-incidence, I think, that I took to a new bimbo language like a duck to water, or that I totally embrace losing my mind and thinking like an object.
When I first met my husband he was a young man with a vision for his life. He was going places in every way and it seemed like it would be a very exciting ride. I knew myself well enough even back then to know that without a guide I might not go places. But, with someone assuring me that I was safe, there would be nothing to hold me back.
These days, I am more curious than I have ever been in my life. I've that writer's interest in 'the story' now and I want people to feed me with their tales; their thoughts, their disappointments and hopes. I want to know it all. I want to make sense of it in some ways through my own writing. Stories teach us, heal us and encourage us to live life to the full; to know more about our selves.
In a very vital and enduring way, I haven't changed at all. At heart I am still a very little girl, wanting to be shown the trapdoor; the way into a world of wonder and enchantment. I have been very fortunate in my life to have the 'little girl' embraced; for men to see that I may adore slutty sex but in the mix is a little girl, willing to be led, to be scolded and chastised. Within my heart and my mind the little girl endures full of faith and trust; willing to do as told, blithely led to places she has never been before; a little scared at times but completely certain she doesn't want to miss the ride; a good girl but prepared to take a risk to experience the wonders of what lies beneath the trap door.
I am very lucky to say that I've been shown what lies beneath the trap door enough times to say that it is heavenly down there; that the Dark Lord may be scary but that the fear invigorates the little girl; entices her; thrills her to the core. The journey into her own desires is one she would not miss for all the tea in China. And, that's what I can't tell my friend. It must remain our secret.
There were only two of us left at the table when a friend needed to share an aspect of her life. I listened. I'm pretty good at listening and people know that about me. Somehow in the process of telling me her little problem she turned the spotlight onto me.
"I've thought several times that you're looking for something. There are little things over time that you've said and it makes me feel that you are on some sort of journey and you are looking for something."
I smiled. I contemplated how much to say and deemed it dangerous territory.
"Yes, I am on a journey. I am looking for something," I said. Then, I allowed the silence to sit there between us.
"Well, I hope you find it," she replied.
"Thank you," I said.
She's a polite woman and knowing she'd gone as far as she could possibly go on this day the conversation reverted to another topic without a beat missed.
Of course, I know enough to be able to say here that I'm not on a journey really; that the peace and joy I seek in my life is already there within me. That's the philosophy and I try to embrace it. I really do. It's quite exhausting to always been in journey mode; to always have a pack on your back and to have to traverse one more mountain before resting for the day.
For whatever reason, I'm looking for the trapdoor. I'm looking for other station platforms. I'm not a Harry Potter fan but the very first movie thrilled me. To think that there was a secret level at the train station that no-one knew about except the Hogwarts' students. How brilliant a thought is that!? To think that you can walk into a cupboard and enter another world like the children in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe is captivating to me.
Some days I wonder if I am less interested in a serious power exchange relationship and more interested in being transported to a magical place. It's no co-incidence, I think, that I took to a new bimbo language like a duck to water, or that I totally embrace losing my mind and thinking like an object.
When I first met my husband he was a young man with a vision for his life. He was going places in every way and it seemed like it would be a very exciting ride. I knew myself well enough even back then to know that without a guide I might not go places. But, with someone assuring me that I was safe, there would be nothing to hold me back.
These days, I am more curious than I have ever been in my life. I've that writer's interest in 'the story' now and I want people to feed me with their tales; their thoughts, their disappointments and hopes. I want to know it all. I want to make sense of it in some ways through my own writing. Stories teach us, heal us and encourage us to live life to the full; to know more about our selves.
In a very vital and enduring way, I haven't changed at all. At heart I am still a very little girl, wanting to be shown the trapdoor; the way into a world of wonder and enchantment. I have been very fortunate in my life to have the 'little girl' embraced; for men to see that I may adore slutty sex but in the mix is a little girl, willing to be led, to be scolded and chastised. Within my heart and my mind the little girl endures full of faith and trust; willing to do as told, blithely led to places she has never been before; a little scared at times but completely certain she doesn't want to miss the ride; a good girl but prepared to take a risk to experience the wonders of what lies beneath the trap door.
I am very lucky to say that I've been shown what lies beneath the trap door enough times to say that it is heavenly down there; that the Dark Lord may be scary but that the fear invigorates the little girl; entices her; thrills her to the core. The journey into her own desires is one she would not miss for all the tea in China. And, that's what I can't tell my friend. It must remain our secret.
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