Erosion

Some years ago when my husband was immersed in post graduate study, I packed up mychildren and we headed into the country to stay in the mountains. The house I rented was humble but the huge advantage was that it had a big back garden with a place to burn a fire and toast marshmallows. After we returned from climbing mountains each day, the children stayed outside for hours by that fire, lost in their imagination.

Recently, I was given a voucher to stay in a very comfortable hotel with a wonderful view not too far from that humble home and my husband and I escaped for two full nights of naughty time together. Perhaps I can catalogue more about that another time.

My husband and I drove one afternoon to the beautiful waterfall that my children and I had visited, and after climbing down to the bottom we marvelled in its beauty together. We love to be alone in the country together and by that I mean, completely alone. It was mid-week and we had the place virtually to ourselves. There was a special magic in the air; a soothing balm for us both.

As I watched the water jump and cascade over the rocks I thought of a line from Deity’s poem.

“I want to do with you what wind does to a rock face.”

I asked my husband, “What does wind do to a rock face?”

“It erodes it...wears it down.”

It made perfect sense. That is what had happened to me...was still happening to me. I was being worn down.

I’m not the girl I once was.

I am settled.

I am content.

I am peaceful.

I am forever grateful to be transformed into someone who feels comfortable in her skin; alive in a way she only dreamed about; able to share her inner thoughts and for them to be given life; set free.

Transformation takes work: diligence, commitment and a steady hand.

It rates as one of the best things that ever happened to me.

It is said that nothing stays the same. The rock cannot stay the same. Life is a state of change.

How thrilling it is to say that as I age I become so much less!

How enriched I am that as I age I am so much more than I ever was before.

Truly

Richly

Deeply

Blessed.

Fantasy play

As a girl writing BDSM stories, life can be a bit lonely. I love the notion of collaboration. It goes right back to the days of watching 'The Dick van Dyke Show' and seeing Dick with Buddy and Sally in the writing room, teasing out the next episode of the show. I knew right then, that if I ever got the chance, that is what I would love to do: collaborative writing.

I've thought, many times, about joining a writing class or group, and I must go to our writer's festival this year. Yet, I think you can understand, that for me, writing about BDSM, I can't contribute to the discussions too well.

"And what do you write about?" people ask, when I am silly enough to tell them that I am enjoying writing at home. It is not easy to satisfy their curiosity and in the end, I have to change the subject.

One of the lovely things about mothering my youngest child is that he has a strong interest in writing as well as considerable aptitude for the task. He is part of a select group at school who have been pulled aside to write about a fantasy world. It is an exciting project and one he embraces. This morning, for inexplicable reasons, we were early to school. The world seemed a bit different; almost as if we had mucked up something and shouldn't be there.

"Perhaps, you could incorporate this into the fantasy world. Maybe, all the clocks lose time and that changes what happens next."

He smiled at me. I could see the thought going through his mind.

"My mum really is a bit odd."

But, the thing is that once you start inventing stories, it is a bit hard to stop. It is quite intoxicating.

There is an opportunity that has just opened up to write a wonderful story. It would be a collaborative effort and filled with naughtiness, lust and deep longings fulfilled. I am excited about it.

Interestingly, my desire to wrap up my last writing project, to edit it and hopefully find it a home, is now strong. I loved concocting Edward and Susan, and having Edward steer Susan through all her doubts and fears of becoming the person she truly wanted to be. It will be hard to let go. It is not lost on me that there is a lot of me in Susan.

Still, a new idea, a good one, is always so darn exciting, and I look forward to it immensely. I sit in my dining room alone but my thoughts are keeping me very good company.