Belief

 Joshua 1:9

Have I not commanded you to be strong and courageous? Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.”

Flowing

 The last entry was Wednesday, a horrible day. I just read back on that entry which I had written first thing that day. I was motoring along as best I could when I got a call for permissions for my mother to go into palliative care at the nursery home - in other words, no heroics - and I found the double Dutch too much. I heard the word 'infection' which didn't jive with the word 'palliative'. It wasn't until the next morning - yesterday - when a nurse I knew well rang, and by then I was able to have the conversation, a perfectly orderly and reasonable conversation, and we were all on the same page.

It feels like I can have the thought 'just flow with it', that that thought is lodged in mind and body, and then so many minutes later, tears flow, and I am not so good at flowing. It's not in the plan, to fall apart, and then I do, which is what lead me to write now, again, first thing in the morning.

Wednesday was almost mad with the many things and thoughts I dealt with. I ended that day with my son wanting to talk about accepting a place at a college to end out his Masters. This means in so many weeks, he will formally move out of home, my last chicken. Of course, I said he should accept it, he has saved the money to do so, and it will be a good experience for him.

And then, he sort of had a meltdown, wondering what would happen to our dog who we had buried in the garden if I sold the house. I guaranteed him that if and when that time came, we would bury her remains in our garden by the sea. He clearly was feeling vulnerable too, and that was his expression of it. I made a mental note that as soon as possible we needed a dog in our lives. It's the first time we have been without a dog, and we need the commonsense of a dog. Dogs definitely flow.

It makes sense there's a certain amount of processing going on, for both of us. It's not since just before Covid, when all the boys of the family had a European holiday skiing the Alps (and thank God for that) that I have been alone in the house a good deal of the time. Is it some colliding of the stars that I fell two weeks ago and have been tending to a sore knee? Do things simply happen all at once for a reason, I wonder.

Today, we finally pick up my son's car - long story - but it's another reason, his borrowing of my car to get to work and university - that kept me in a contemplative state, a transitional state, a preparation state.

When there was the opportunity, I used to attend a Dharma Dialogues gathering. I am not so inclined now that it is online, it's just not the same for me. I recall Catherine, the host, say that we do this, sit silently and then talk when moved to do so, about life's big all-encompassing thoughts. We do this, she said, gathering strength, flexing the muscle, so that when things do fall apart, we are ready. 

I find myself noticing little things. I think one notices different things at times when they resonate with you. I heard Rachel Ward talk briefly about thinking that the farm they owned wasn't something she could involve herself in, until the kids had gone and it occurred to her, that she did in fact have a place there. It meant she had to learn from scratch, daunting but do-able.

And I heard my husband on a telephone call to me, about a subject he usually handles, say to me, 'you'll work it out'. That's not something he typically says.

It feels a bit like the material I am reading about 'attachment' and healing with attachment modalities. There's that psychoanalytic sort of approach, working with emotions, bringing them up, creating new meaning or strengths or outcomes or solutions that way. Then there is the practical approach, the solutions approach, maybe more the cognitive behaviour approach, addressing dissonant thoughts.

It's a beautiful thing, these new modalities, where the therapist is seen as the guide, to help the client see that all that was needed was actually already there inside the person. Maybe the material of the life story needed to be massaged a bit, like a 'trip' that might lead you to see that, as an example, the man you feared so much in your mind, as a boy, is now no threat to you. Your body can relax.

I wonder if, in a way, I've been doing my own therapy in the past two weeks, spending a lot of time alone, and gently guiding my mind to see things in a new way; gathering creative solutions and feeling into my natural strengths - growing.

I love watching 'Couples Therapy'. I watch it on SMS on Demand, but I think Americans watch it on Showtime?? Anyway, this couple in Season 4 jumped ship. She's a psychoanalyst herself, as bright as a button, but she just couldn't give her husband what he wanted, this elusive sense of 'home'. He was demanding that she come up with the solution, and she just couldn't engineer it. It seemed doomed to fail because it was like asking 'hand over the money' when the money simply didn't exist. Her frustration was palpable.

You have to bend. You have to look squarely at the cards you are dealt, and you have to play your hand with skill and quiet courage. You have to be ready for anything.

I close my eyes. I see the river and take inspiration. Here I go. I flow.

When things fall apart

 I am struck by this experience of accompanying someone in a dire prognosis. No doubt, for each person or couple the experience is unique to them. In my case, my husband has made no bucket lists but rather sees each new day as an opportunity to reach for a cure to his condition.

It's incredibly frustrating to both of us that a potential cure is not allowed in this country and we may in fact soon have to board a plane to purchase the no-harm medication elsewhere. I am no conspiracy theorist but there's no doubt that there is profit at the heart of such decisions to refuse access to potentially lifesaving medications currently inexpensive.

 I have been forced to look inside my own mind for a way forward, for a way to approach each day, navigating his approach and my own, one more centred in the facts before me. I have seen this positive thinking bear fruit and I have seen it become a failed harvest. 

I am reminded at just this very moment of the title of Pema Chodron's book, 'When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times'. I must order this book today for it seems timely.

There is no question that it is indeed a difficult time. I dreamt last night of being in war, of having to navigate around the enemy to be safe and I woke, needing to escape the dream. I lay there, aware of the reason for the dream. I was in a deeply vulnerable place.

I think when you are in a long marriage, especially when it began when you were still in your teens, the thought of losing that mate is so confronting, hiding in denial, or anger, or disbelief, seems far better an option than sitting in the facts of the matter. I have used this strategy for quite some time.

Who knows why or when one begins to let that outer shell of security go, but it has gone. My mind seems to be stuck in the moment. Will this be the last anniversary, will this be the last year. Every transaction, every 'good morning', every decision seems so poignant.

I once heard Blanche d'Apulget talk about her last year with Bob Hawke (a former Australian Prime Minister) and she said it was the best year of their lives because it had been so intimate. I am not sure that my husband will be so vulnerable in the last year of his life if it is to take time away from the task of staying longer. I am not sure he sees the value in that sort of approach, and I am not expecting it.

Rather, right now, it's an accompanying kind of task, and in many ways, my role is to provide comfort and support for him to do what he thinks he should do.

We both are not inclined to share distress or worry with our children, but my eldest son was in town last week and it was impossible to completely hide my state of mind from him. Goodbyes are never easy and he saw my tears as we said goodbye. It rattled him and he has been checking in on me as much as he can in his busy life. I noticed him say in one telephone call, 'It will be better when...' and of course that's not a bad thing to say. It was a rough day when I saw him, no doubt about it, a sort of rock bottom from which I have risen.

 I remember once much earlier this year say to a confidante that I felt "stuck". I don't feel stuck any more. I feel like I am truly living the days as best I can, not expecting too much of myself and at the same time not giving up or giving in.

My youngest son is here until he finishes his Masters degree in Counselling. He chats with me about the material in his course and it's the material on Attachment Theory I find so fascinating. There's no question I have not always been securely attached, nor my husband, but I like to read that this attachment is flexible. It can get better.

I'd love to sink into the arms of someone - anyone - who was willing to be the comforter. It's not easy to be the source of strength for others, to be the one 'all right', 'fine'. There's the temptation to fall apart and wait for someone to come along, perhaps, to save me. Since I doubt that could or would happen, I find myself a little avoidant, for sure. I am soaking in my own company. At the same time, there is a voice whispering in my ear a great deal, 'You will be okay. I am here with you.' I am not sure who exactly is whispering, but I appreciate her company.

Dominance

From time to time, I have read about a woman in a D/s style relationship who has lost her dominant, as in he died, or once or twice I have read about a dominant who has lost his submissive. I remember once telling a dominant friend that I was a little fearful of the dynamic because of the fear of just that - my dominant dying before I did, and the huge hole I imagined that would create in my life.

My husband, who has been diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer isn't your typical cancer patient and he is doing so many of the right things. He honors his intuition, is deeply engaged with the healing process, has released many of his repressed emotions through hypnosis and floods his body with positive emotions. He must go for treatment each month and each and every time he is praised for his attitude. They see him as one out of the box and wish all their other patients had such a strong life force. So, most of the time, I am engaged with his strong life force and certainly not someone who has dug himself a pit of negativity or any sort of resignation.

It's part and parcel of the way we have lived together, for nearly 50 years now. Something very difficult happens, maybe an investment goes pear shaped, or a child or a grandchild has an issue. He is subject to the normal ups and downs of this but ultimately, he rallies. He says something akin to, 'don't worry, we will rise from the ashes and rebuild'. It's our whole lives together that has been a training ground, like a dharma strengthening of character, so that when a heavy-duty dose of courage is required, one is conditioned in that virtue.

I think about our dynamic as one where, as Brene Brown says, it's not 50:50. Sometimes, I might be a 10 and sometimes I am a 90. When he is caught up in fear, letting his imagination run a bit wild, I feel that I can't and shouldn't rely on him for strength or leadership.

This happened late last night when I could see his imagination running wild, and without information that allowed me to decipher whether what he was saying was a major concern, or not, I knew that the best thing for me was to go to silence. This morning provided greater informed detail, and the issue brings with it, a need for careful monitoring, possibly a second opinion, but nothing that seems abnormal under the circumstances. 

My daughter in law, who is carrying their first child, who needs to get married fast (there is an Asian mother to satisfy) and who needs to find a house fast before the baby arrives, said to me on the weekend that she is close to overwhelm. I get it.

In my ideal fantasy world, it's the Dominant one who settles me down, assures me everything will be all right, and enables me to feel safe and secure. I read this blog, I don't particularly want to say which one because it is sorta extreme, and he has the talent of allowing his wife (I am assuming from his writing) to feel so very secure in his dominance. 

She knows the rules. She knows the expectations. She understands that the rules are for her good, and for the good of the marriage and the family. He punishes when she deviates from the good order his rules impose and by all accounts, she responds to the punishment well in that she seems perfectly happy more or less immediately thereafter. 

Of course, it's him writing, not her, and so maybe, like me, she has to sometimes settle him; put things into perspective; give her reading of the things that happen in their lives. Maybe he gets dispirited, or negative, or over-worrying and she has to be the one to pick up the pieces for him on a given day. It's the tango that all couples dance, isn't it?!

In my fantasy world, in my aroused state, it's all so completely set in stone, like in the blog. I read that blog because I like that world he writes about, where he has created this fantastic sense of safety and calm, and putting things right should they go off course. She doesn't, or has learned not to, let's say, argue the point but rather accepts that her ass will bear the brunt of her misalignments of his vision for them. It's just life, their life; the way things go in that household.

For a time, it was like that for us. Pretty close. My husband got sick, and things changed, and I remember how unsafe I felt. That's when I went looking for other ways to feel calm - meditation and breathing techniques and self-compassion exercises and such. 

Here's the thing: For me, nothing cures a sense of anxiety, of worry, or overwhelm, faster than experiencing dominance. It's an act of kindness really, though maybe not in the moment. It makes me feel safe, secure, calm, at peace. It is, I have to think, some deeply invested sense of femininity left over from the stone age that lodged in my body long before there was a body. It's the only explanation.

My Parts

A long time ago, perhaps 25 or 26 years ago, we were in Pennsylvania staying right on the fringe of the Amish community. I had long held a fascination with their lifestyle and had booked a cabin as close to the community as I could. It turns out that I had rented the cabin from a psychiatrist and among the many books in the cabin was one about family therapy. I was drawn to this book and read as much of it as I could in the time available. I knew that somewhere in the pages of that book was something important for me to know, but I wasn't ready to understand the message.

For about a year, I have been watching clips online of Richard Schwartz talking about this model of therapy wherein he gets in touch with the parts of people. Somewhere on my shelves is the book I bought Internal Family Systems. I read it and no doubt underlined key ideas  but I only took it in in a theoretical sense. I wasn't making the headway I had hoped for.

A few weeks ago I signed up for the Trauma Summit online run by Sounds True. If you don't know Sounds True, I highly recommend it to you. I forgot about this Summit and only in the last few days of the free summit I noticed an email link and began to listen to sessions. You may know that many of these free summits are only free for a short time and can be quite expensive to purchase so I drenched myself in various sessions for a day to try to catch up on what I felt was the best of the sessions offered.

In Day 6 of the summit, Richard Schwartz had given a presentation, going through the process he has for his trauma patients, and I decided to follow along, as if I were the patient. The following is what I discovered.

Just briefly, Schwartz maintains, and has established over a career of 35 years, that we are made up of parts some of which try to protect us. In this process of protecting parts of ourselves become alienated. We can heal ourselves with a little direction if we can respectfully and kindly approach a Manager and get to know it. If we can do this skillfully, openly and honestly, we can release our Self with all the components that allow us to flourish. These components are called the 8 Cs - curiosity, confidence, clarity, calm, compassion, courage, connectedness and creativity.

First of all, Schwartz explained that all our parts have talents and resources, but due to trauma and attachment issues, some parts are taken out of operation. There are parts, which are referred to as Managers, who feel the need to protect the alienated parts. You might call such a Manager an inner critic but the voice, or part, that I located was one that was not so much an Inner Critic as a very deep and intense protector; insistently demanding that I stay low; silent; acquiescent; agreeable.

I should explain that this is all happened just now, and the reason I think I was able to locate it and listen to it was that I had an experience a few days ago where I very clearly heard my Protector giving me very specific instructions.

Schwartz is clear that permission must be sought to approach a part and I did ask it if I could get close with a respectful curiosity. I sat with it, trying to understand its motives.

Here's what I learned:

The part of me that is authentic, playful, open and looking to bond was injured very early on in my life. The words that authentic part heard was 'You're not one of us.' 'Run away' 'Don't take chances.' 'I don't have time for you.' 'You need to be independent.' So, by necessity, or so it seemed to the Protector, this playful part with needs, needs to be connected and bonded, childlike, but with opinions, had to be exiled.

A Manager stepped in, a Protector, another part that spoke to me, all the time, I realize now. It said, 'Don't say anything.' 'Keep quiet.' 'You can mange by yourself.' 'It's dangerous to speak up. Whatever you do, don't speak up, it will only be much worse if you do.'

That's the voice I located the other day, a voice so familiar to me that I hadn't even realized how often it spoke to me. The voice had become a part of me.

Schwartz directed us to ask the part, 'What would you like to do, if you didn't have to do this job?' I waited for the answer and it said to me, 'I would like to enjoy watching you being authentic. I would like for that hurt part of you to stop hurting, to feel whole and loved; loveable. I would like to see you have fun; be joyful not just with yourself but with others. I would love it if you could speak your truth so I didn't have to protect you any more and I could just watch you be whole.'

Schwartz asked to see if we could turn this part - an Enemy of sorts - into a friend and thank it for having done this job. He asked us to ask this part how old it thought we were. I couldn't discern an age but the protector had been with me for as long as I could remember, so I guess it thought I was still a child.

Of the 8 Cs that can emerge, perhaps all of them, I definitely detected Courage coming forth. I had approached this material honestly and I felt a courage, a calm coming forth.

I detect the Protector's voice unsure and unwilling to let go of the job as yet. I feel a warm connection to the part. I think it has been with me for so long that it's hard to imagine it not being there. But, at least we are talking.

Shame

Shame is a concept I've always struggled with. Guilt comes from a feeling that you have hurt another person or taken a wrong action. You've made a mistake. I have felt guilt and can speak to moments of guilt, no problem.

But, shame is so much more personal, so much more difficult to say out loud or even to write about in an anonymous online journal. Shame comes from the feeling that you are worthless, that you are a mistake, or that there is something wrong with you as a person. It's shame, I think, that keeps a person in a state of denial or lack of awareness.

Here are a few examples of shame:

'You think that others are judging you.' and 'You believe that you have to prove your worth to others'.

I can speak to this, bucket loads. I was living and working in the United States. I wanted to take leave to go home to Australia for a visit but was told I hadn't accrued enough time there. I asked if I could make up the time over the next several weeks to enable me to take the time off. They offered me secretarial work and after my job I'd stay back and type/send telexes (yep, I'm that antiquated!) off to various parts of the world.

This was entirely reasonable and in just about every way I was fine with the task. But, one evening, a wave of shame washed over me as I sat in front of a typewriter in what was the typist pool. What was I doing? Where was my life heading?

I had followed my very new husband to the other side of the world without a work visa (only he qualified for that) which meant that I had to take one of the only jobs in town - working for another country. Yes, I had qualifications to work there and doing this sort of job wasn't too far outside those specifications but I knew deep in my bones at that moment that I was selling myself short, hiding in a dead end job rather than having the guts to seek more. In a sense my circumstances were perfectly aligned with my lack of courage, and in that moment of shame all was revealed to me.

Thirty or so years later I found myself at my University College reunion. I was happy to attend the evening, although when arriving into the room for some time it felt like I knew no-one. People didn't look like themselves on first glance, but as we introduced ourselves to one another the memories came flooding back. They were, and are, such lovely people, very engaging, warm and welcoming. But, again that moment of shame early on in the evening was felt with such force that it nearly knocked me down. I felt dread at having to answer their questions, 'And, what do you do?'

These people had long careers in education, in science, in medicine. What did I have to show for the decades that had passed? I've been a mother, a devoted mother and a good one I think. I had volunteered at school, been a member of auxiliary groups, had some jobs along the way, but where was the career?

My introversion, or perhaps my shame - a fear that others will reject me, a fear of standing up for myself, an ability to hide my emotions, an inability to believe in myself and my worth - has held me back.

My most recent example of this utterly overwhelming sense of shame is when I was doing the Masters. There is a part of me that knows that I'm not stupid, but there is also a part of me that fears failure - the annihilating fear of being shown to be what I think I am inside, average.

I had determined to do one subject at a time. Each subject is 12 weeks long with plenty of work to get done and then the next subject starts immediately the next week. Still, I'd be traveling along all right and I thought I'd enroll for two subjects concurrently.

There reached a moment when panic set in. How was I going to keep the high marks rolling in at the faster pace? I pulled up a tutor's email and explained I'd have to drop out of her subject. She replied to say that there was absolutely no need. I was going along beautifully at a high standard and just keep going, not far to go now. The option to fail/hide/run away was taken away from me.

In fact, when the comments came back for the piece of writing I submitted towards a prospective novel she wrote, 'I'm sure your work will be published soon.' I didn't even let it wash over me and I still have not. I felt I must have conned her in some way, though I don't quite know how I would have done that.

There is no doubt that I am my harshest critic. It is a simple statement of fact that I am an introvert and don't really have the mental energy or desire for a career or full time work. I loved my work last week at the school but the thought of having to do it all over again the next day would not have been a happy thought. I use up a lot of resources to be around people, giving to people. I adore it but then afterward I need to spend time alone.

Writing is ideal because I can do that alone and then go out and be with the world when that is done. I can be quite hungry to interact with the world when I have had sufficient time alone. But, I struggle to believe that I have any ability, though I do have glimpses of feeling good about my work.

I can't deny that the shame sits in my bones, still. There is no-one in my family who wants me to work or expects me to work, except my mother who thinks I'd have fun working in a dress shop. Nope. I actually wouldn't enjoy that.

Another example of feeling shame is when someone doesn't stand up for herself/himself. This is a long and old story. I have assumed the Caretaker role in a number of capacities over my life. Whilst on some level it felt comfortable to do so, I did know deep down that it caused me deeply distressing feelings of shame. There's damage there, it's undeniable and obvious to me now, with unhealed wounds. I am working on it, working specifically with this element of shame, cognizant that  people who suffer with narcissistic tendencies have enveloped me through the years. I'm investigating this. It's two steps forward and one step back, but much progress is being made.

Margaret Fjelstad, a therapist who works with people who have taken on the Caretaker role such as myself writes, 'Letting go of shame happens simultaneously as you learn to care for and value yourself. When you come to the decision that you are the real judge of your life and that you belong on this earth as much as anyone else, you will find that you no longer feel there is something wrong with you..."

I look forward to that day.

Leaps of faith

I happened to mention to a friend that I often think back to Indianna Jones and his 'leap of faith' when I have to make a decision that might launch me into unknown territory. I was hinting at the fact that I wouldn't mind his opinion. Nothing.

I mentioned the Knight and how Indianna had got a little help from him, a nudge in the right direction...

"Choose wisely"

"Remember?" I hinted.

Of course, Indianna had first to make his 'Leap of Faith' before he got to the Cup, but I was rolling them into one sequence in the hope of making a convincing point.

Of course, this strategy did not pay off. He is far too much of a film buff to let me away with that, telling me to watch the scene again.

But, just before he dashed off he did, in fact, give me a great big hint.

"This was one step  in a long journey. Don't overthink it."

Perhaps, we make too much out of leaps of faith.

"You must believe."

Endings

Endings are difficult. Where does one end a story, a play, a novel, a blog? Often, one ends a story with the protagonist in much the same place as they were at the beginning of the story, but changed in some important way. I've been writing in the power exchange arena since late 2008 but in many ways I am still living the life I led when I began writing on these pages.

Yet, I've changed. I'm a great fan of Brene Brown and her research into vulnerability and shame. Over time, I  think I was responding to some negative feelings of shame and vulnerability, feelings that I wanted to shake off.

As Brene says, if courage is your value then you have to walk through vulnerability. You have to embrace that feeling in even the hardest moments.

I've talked about looking and finding joy in my life and like Brene I believe that joy comes into your life when you practice love and gratitude. Look for moments of gratitude in your day and you'll start to feel joy.

One of Brene Brown's big statements, one that Oprah likes too is "when we lose our tolerance to be vulnerable joy becomes foreboding". We just have to accept, as human beings living on this planet that vulnerability is part of the package. To be 'the man standing in the arena' is what is important, to demonstrate courage.

To find my courage. This has been my big life lesson and one that being 'overseen' assisted. I've certainly no regrets about exploring life through power exchange relationships because that arrangement helped me to acknowledge my true, best self. It has brought me great joy.

It's time for me to move on to other endeavors. It's been a wonderful experience for me to have had the opportunity to write in this web journal but it is, quite simply, time to move on. I'll keep the journal up for a time but no further entries will be made. There's time to interact with me if you choose to do so, but about the end of the month, I'll close this journal to public readership.

Thank you for reading. Be well.

Captivity

I can't trace exactly where I began a keen interest in living life in a contained way. My family ran a business and we lived on the property. This meant that 'home life' wasn't like the family life that most children experience. I suspect the roots of my interest lie somewhere in there.

When I met my husband I met Uncle Jack and that's where I learned about his time in Changi. I remember paying great interest to any information I could gather about his imprisonment through the war. Technically, he should have been killed because he was a bit outspoken back then and on at least one occasion a fellow prisoner had to save him from imminent death because he was on the cusp of  speaking back to a Japanese official.

What I was most impressed about was that he had the mental strength to endure the ordeal. Two years ago, we went to visit his wife (Jack was in a nursing home by then but his wife was still visiting him every second day and bringing him home - a Herculean feat for her too) and she gave my youngest son a copy of the speech that Jack had given, detailing his capture. Finally, we had the details because Jack wasn't one to sit us around and tell us things about his war experience. He'd rather play host to us and fill us with his well stocked liquor cabinet while his darling wife filled us with roast lamb and rice pudding for dessert.

I do recall a story about him being held in a very small space; a coffin, of sorts. And, I remember seeing this sort of captivity in a Western movie as well. I just couldn't imagine this sort of extreme experience. I didn't understand how someone could survive it.

Not so long after my last son was born, I was experiencing lots of pain in my lower back. One day it got so painful that I simply walked into the chiropractic office that I often passed in the car and asked if they could help me. Apparently, there was some arthritis sitting there at the base of my spine and they recommended Pilates to stretch me out and strengthen my core muscles to keep the lower back strong.

A friend saw me having a coffee up at the shops one day near to the Club we belong to and she asked me to sign a petition to have Pilates classes there. I happily signed, the classes began and I have been going there ever since, at least once a week in term time.

I was very interested to learn that Pilates was begun, it seems, by a person who was confined; imprisoned was the story I heard. He devised exercises he could do in a very small space to keep himself fit. There is something about exercising on a mat that really speaks to me. In the smallest possible space, I can work my whole body. Then, when the class is over, I can lie on the mat and listen to the soothing music that is played to us and let my mind drift away to nothingness. I just adore that time.

This is a time when it is not at all uncommon for me to imagine that 'doll' state. I imagine that all the 'holes' are plugged and that my mind is quite empty. It is a rather sexually oriented experience for me because it takes me to a sense of having my body used at the same time as I have a feeling of being at great peace. I blend the two experiences/thoughts into one. Sex = peace.

This is my mindset. In my earlier life, I'm not sure that I equated sex with peace. I do know that an intense sexual experience made me exuberantly happy with an ecstatic feeling of being alive. It is only in recent years that I have equated sex with a deep peace.

I know my husband would dearly love for me to take more responsibility for initiating sex. God knows I have tried but my very natural disposition is to be taken; to be captured. When I am taken and plundered, I process that as a deep peace. I sink down; bunker down. Maybe that relates to my thoughts all my life about containment. Maybe, my mentor hypnotized me over the chat box to believe these things. It is more likely, I suspect, that he brought out thoughts that were already there and that's why I took them like a duck to water.

My body looks to be used. My mind is always considering ways to live a small but wondrous life. Containment is my preoccupation.

A Big Day

It had been an extraordinary beginning to the day for me; nothing less than transformational, physically and emotionally. I could have done with some time to process it alone. However, I had asked my youngest son the day before if we might go to the movies together and I didn't want to back out of that commitment.

The evening before, my eldest son had arrived with my husband's late Christmas present. How that evolved was that on Christmas Eve my eldest son came to me with the idea of ordering my husband a new set of golf clubs from America and I immediately agreed. If we had the money we would have gone out and bought a motorbike but short of that, a new set of clubs and bag would tickle his fancy, we felt sure.

And, they did. He was absolutely delighted with the clubs but I think he was especially touched that we did this for him. He considers himself the breadwinner (which he is) and that money ought to be spent on us and not him. So, that we should go to this effort for him meant a great deal to him. It was very clear to see that.

My eldest son has left today for another very remote location as his business life demands and my husband said, on receiving the golf clubs that when he got back they would play together. But, we both said to him, "Why not tomorrow?" And, that's when I said to my youngest son, "Why don't we see a film together, while they play golf?"

It was his choice of film. It was always going to be this way and when he said that 'War Horse' was his choice I did my best to prepare myself. I had seen the promos and knew that this was going to be hard emotional work.

And, it was. For well over 2 hours he and I worked hard to get Joey home safe, emotionally travelling with him over every obstacle in life he encountered; being taken on that journey and all the high and low moments of that amazing life of his. The film explored areas of trust, loyalty, courage, strength and good training and after my morning - those extraordinary highs and moments of happiness - this film was eating into every raw nerve; literally, in certain ways.

When the movie ended my son turned to me and said, "Can I have a hug?" And, that's when people started climbing over us to get out of their seats, not wanting to interfere with these two oddballs who were hugging one another tightly, wrapped in their own emotional space.

We were the last to leave the movie theatre and when we did neither one of us was ready to go home. We checked in at a restaurant walking distance away, ordered some food and began the process of discussing the movie; the elements of the film, the themes, the strategies Spielberg had used. It was with a great sense of pride that I realized that I had missed a symbolic element of the final scene and my son explained his theory to me. He will one day be a great creative force in this world. Watch this space!

As we discussed together, one big element of this very fine movie is the use of the words "big day". "Some days are big days, Joey, and this is your big day" said the boy to his horse.

And, what providence it should be that I should be sitting in a movie theatre watching a movie about Joey's big day on the very same day I had a big day of my own.

When not to submit

When I visited the UK last year with my husband, we bought tickets to see Blenheim Palace. Blenheim Palace is a stunning palace and the gardens are so very beautiful (we walked for hours in the grounds) but most special to me was that it was the birthplace of Sir Winston Churchill and in his honour there is a permanent exhibition.

I was able to read the original letters he wrote home to his parents whilst at a horrid boarding school where he was incredibly miserable. There is no mention of his misery; not a single word. Rather, he assures his parents that he is doing his best, trying hard to improve all the time and that he hopes that they are well, comfortable and enjoying life. I felt very touched to think of this little boy’s generosity of spirit.

Of course, we all remember him for his great rallying war speeches, although he was humble about that as well. As far as he was concerned it was the nation that had “the lion heart” whilst he simply had “the luck” to be called upon to give the roar.

Although we are aware of his “black dog” he had a lovely sense of humour, a variety of interests including a great skill for painting and a passionate devotion to his wife, Clementine.

Of all Churchill’s quotes, it is this one that resonates with me:

“One ought never to turn one's back on a threatened danger and try to run away from it. If you do that, you will double the danger. But if you meet it promptly and without flinching, you will reduce the danger by half. Never run away from anything. Never!”

As a woman with a submissive nature, there is an inclination to let life do with me what it will. I sometimes feel that I don’t have the strength to fight the dogged nature of those people who display narcissistic tendencies. Part of the reason that I live fairly quietly is that I feel so surrounded by people who are chasing more and more money, unperturbed by who they destroy to get at the next pot of gold. I question if these people have any understanding of the essence of life or that when they reach the end of their lives they will have learned anything at all.

Having said that, there have been times when I have refused to run away from danger. I’ve stood my ground, faced danger square in the face and refused to surrender to it. When a psychologist told me when my son was three years old that he would never go to a regular school, I vowed to prove him wrong. Not only did he go to a high achieving school and graduate, but he was Captain of one of the sports and is tackling university wonderfully well in the third year of a course highly suited to his interests and talents.

A dear friend said to me just yesterday, “I hate to feel a victim.” I hate to feel a victim too and I have turned disaster into success by meeting danger “promptly and without flinching”. Many, many women would have walked away from situations that I faced, accepted and turned around.

Although I do have a submissive nature I choose not to submit to those who behave dishonourably, wickedly or underhandedly. I have come out of my lovely ‘submissive bubble’, (where, frankly, I would much rather be) to take a hard look at the callous and devious behaviour of some bad men. I am not sure who said, “There is nothing to fear but fear itself” but the phrase was often quoted to me earlier in life and I draw on it now.

There are too many men who put on a white shirt and tie and go to the office to do heinous things; men who believe that their fortunes that they probably got in a variety of dubious ways, allow them to ride rough shod over people merely for sport.

If we are to be proud of our societies, we must challenge this behaviour and call for ethics in business to be revived. A good place to start would be to make the law available to all, instead of the very wealthy. I fear that greed is taking us over. If we don’t fight against greed and underhand tactics, where will it end? For these reasons, I have no choice but to leave my submissive nature at the front door.

Sizzle, sizzle

I think I am really testing David's patience lately as he waits for me to write the latest scene from Agnes' point of view. Being the 'good guy' that he is, he knows that I have to get certain things out of my system first. Sometimes, life creeps up on you and reveals things to you and you have no alternative but to stop and just absorb it for a while. Yet today, I feel so floaty and happy and able and content that I just have to write here how very happy I feel!

In the last post, Oatmeal Girl made the following comment: "Need, obsession, inspiration, service... we seem to be on opposite sides of the seesaw, but without both of us it will not move and we will not reach the heights." It didn't pass Shape Shifter by either that this was a particularly poignant statement.

Need, obsession, inspiration and service are words that all have great meaning and impact in my life. My needs are just that; not wants alone but very much needs. I certainly obsess. You don't write more than 450 posts about all this and not have an obsession.

I am fortunate to receive abundant inspiration and may I humbly suggest, that I would not receive that inspiration if I did not myself inspire.

And, I serve. I do indeed serve, with good grace and dignity and pleasure.

Today is one of those days that I can tick off as a thrilling success! Just this once you don't really need the details, do you? Let's just say, I'm sizzling like only good dolls do! Can we leave it at that? And now, I can do some writing.

Letting go

Many years ago I was introduced to a rather distant family member. Even then, he seemed old, in the sense that he was from the ‘old world’; from a time when people were civil in all circumstances. He was incredibly gracious; welcoming and kind; immovable, but in a nice way. His standards of behaviour were high at all times, and yet he was always calm and always quiet. I liked him immediately.

Over the years, we shared a good number of meals. He and his wife would sometimes cook us a wonderful roast meal with a fruit sponge for dessert. Do any of you remember the ‘Sunday roast’? He was ‘mine host’ at such events, and he just had to know that you were happy in every way.

“Would you care for another glass of wine, my dear? Or, I could offer you a port? Let me tell you what I have.”

They would come to our little house for a meal sometimes, and when we lived overseas, they even made the trek out to the country to visit us there. In more recent years, we’ve had them here for family celebrations.

He’s old now, very old, and he is not long for this earth. He’s in a nursing home, and if we don’t go and visit him very soon, we will have left our run too late, and that would be a great shame.

J was a prisoner of war in World War 11. He was a pilot and a feisty lad, and he tried to steal a Japanese aeroplane. And, he almost did, but, not quite. They locked him in solitary confinement in an extremely confined space for many months. He kept his marbles by throwing a button into the air and trying to find it. That’s J. Never give up! He didn’t tell me that story. That’s not his style. I heard it third hand from another family member who managed to get it out of him somehow.

When the going gets tough and I need to dig deep to find my courage, I think about J and that button. I think about the way he lived his life, with a deep integrity and honesty and a sense of what is right. I think the world of him and I guess my husband and I made a strong connection over the years, for it was to many family members’ chagrin that he had chosen us to be on the ‘high table’ with him at his special birthday affair, ahead of those closer to him.

His son is unable to see what I see in J. Unfortunately, he sees him as judgemental; that he didn’t care for his choices in life. He sees the standards as rigid and he considers him uncompromising. I think it is a shame. All his life he has possessed noble qualities. He has been honourable and true. He had much to pass on.

Nobody’s perfect. I may well have my rose-coloured glasses on when I see J. After all, I never lived with him. But these old guys, that have lived through wars, and endured horrors and seen it all, they just keep keeping on. They have backbone.

Some days I feel a bit like J in that confined space, when he did whatever he could to endure through to the next day. The hardest thing about life can be, not knowing when a difficulty will end. You can almost touch what you want, but not quite.

I received a little piece of advice this morning via email from someone who knew that I was having a hard time. He wrote,

“I encourage you to take the risk of seeing the joy in your life and letting the rest go.”

J would agree with that. See the joy. Forgive. Let it go.

I entered the D/s arena to learn just that; to learn to let go, to forgive, to embrace the joy in my life.

Learning about yourself, the good and the bad, is not easy, but we, in this ‘space’ as they like to call it, have the courage to go on that path of exploration.
Like J, we are doing our best to live with courage and honour; to ‘let go’. I think that really says something very positive about us all.