Power, or the lack thereof

 I have been doing some listening to and reading the words of Robert Greene. It has prompted some thoughts about seduction and charisma; power; emotional intelligence.

I admit readily I haven't had any great desire for power in my life. To the contrary, I've been happy to live under the wing of someone who aimed for power; way more driven by a desire to be unique and to be successful than I could ever be.

I have wanted stability. To that end, marrying someone with an endless search for self-expression; for the very real possibility of failures and hard times that can be generated by that individual drive for self-expression, hasn't been ideal for me. 

On the positive side, it has generated an intense understanding that I, and no-one else, is responsible for my own sense of stability and overall well-being. This can occur internally, irrespective of outside forces. That's the ideal, of course, for even monks and those that make this sort of thing a lifetime's work can be triggered by words or deeds of others.

My own self-expression, that is, the expression of my submissive nature, in many ways allows me to have stability within my own self, regardless of the ups and downs of the outside world; that is, outside of my Self.

To this end, staying in my lane is a personal choice; very much a choice generated by what I know works for me. Deity said to me several times over his life, 'if you are a bird, then trying to be a cat is a useless exercise'. Well, he didn't use the words cat and bird, but the idea is the same. If you are an introvert, an observer of people, and not craving power, then don't waste your time in pursuit of power. 

Yet, there's still a part of me that isn't (as yet?) prepared to give up thinking my thoughts that are different to my Dominant, or 'trainer'. It's no good telling me the sky is yellow when I know it isn't. Sure, I can use my powers of submission, of emotional intelligence to observe what is going on, and to just note it; to know what I know inside myself and let that be enough. Most of the time that works just fine for me. 

However, it must be said, I have a 'bullshit filter'. I just do. I know when someone is trying to deceive themselves with a self-generated story about what happened that works for them; that tends to the ego. I'm good with that. We're human. It's what we do.

On the other hand, I'm still not ready to accept someone else's version of how things went down if they are not only protecting their own ego but also trying to bring mine down. In some circles, this may be thought of breaking someone. I don't know. It's always seemed an odd thing to want to do.

I've had nearly 50 years of practice in being that person that supported someone in their efforts to have an effect on the world and I did that willingly since I don't share that same desire. No-one needed to compete with me for power since power is not my jam. Giving up power is my jam, my experiment, my erotic state.

Here's the thing. I am happy to cede to the story that your ego and the massaging thereof is more important than mine. It's fine. I don't care. I am happy to explore submission in a high protocol sort of way.

However, in a less than subtle form of manipulation recently it was suggested to me that a true slave has more character than a garden variety submissive because they can give up all desire or ability for any individual thought process and simply go with the decisions of the other; even if they think that they are not right. Please don't take offense at this verbiage. I know when certain traits of mine - wanting to excel - are being used against me to be used for me, if you know what I mean. Just saying.

Hmm, interesting times.

Loss of ego

In  Jeffrey Eugenides' The Marriage Plot  there are two rivals for the affection of Madeleine - Leonard Bankhead, a brilliant scientist and Mitchell Grammaticus, a brilliant theology student who is searching for the meaning of life. They were both students at Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island. One night at a party they fall into conversation about religion. Bankhead initiated the discussion noting that they had both taken a religious course. It is important to understand that Leonard has suffered mental illness and been institutionalized towards the end of college, having stopped taking his lithium. Bankhead tells him of an experience he had on a beach in Europe.

"He was on a beach, he said, in the middle of the night. He was looking up into the starry sky when suddenly he had the feeling that he could lift off into space, if he wanted to...It wasn't at all like a hallucination," Bankhead said. "I need to stress that. It felt like the most lucid moment of my life."

"Bankhead wanted Mitchell's opinion of what had happened. "Was it O.K. to think of the experience as religious, since it felt that way, or was it invalidated by the fact  that he was technically insane at the time? And if it was invalid, why did it bewitch him?"

"Mitchell had answered that as far as he understood them, mystical experiences were significant only to the extent that they changed  a person's conception of reality, and if that changed conception led to a change of behavior and action, a loss of ego."

There are moments when I might ask a similar question. Within the dolly state I let go my free will. I accept commands and obey. I give my trust and in return I am protected. I can fly high. I experience the world in a new way and the experience is light, translucent, joyous. This is an ego-less state; a time of purity and sanctity.

This morning I thought as well about the giving of pain. If one puts aside the element of masochism and sadism and focuses on the giving and receiving of pain as a symbol of trust and an opportunity to fly into a ego-less state, there is something religious, something surreal about this state.

I've flown in both experiences and in both experiences I've been flooded with feelings of love and appreciation for the opportunity to levitate above this earth for periods of time. Each time I've been humbled to have had the opportunity for grace.

Danger period

Yesterday morning, a spanking took place, not as any sort of correction, just because he chose to play with me. He took out his special piece of tied rope and he used it liberally not just on my ass but all over my back and hips and thighs. When he made his focus my ass after that, I could literally feel the juices fall down on the sheet.

He turned me over, told me to keep my hands above my head and began to work on the front. My breasts can be sensitive which is why, I think, he likes to do it - to bring the rope down across my breasts. I didn't and haven't told him that it causes a glow in my nipples, particularly the right nipple that I found incredibly arousing, at the same time as I associate some pain with the experience.

When I couldn't stop myself from trying to protect my poor nipples from time to time he brought the long rope, part of which had secured my wrists, around the bed so that I was firmly tied to a bed post. Now the rope could come down on my body where he chose and without my interference.

Unable to wait any longer (I think) he plundered into me and roughly fucked me.

This was all very satisfying on many levels.

However, I really didn't get the buzz from the experience that I had anticipated. The day after that was fine. I did my reading for my weekly assignment, we had a sandwich and a coffee at the club; I made a pasta for dinner and we watched 'The Iron Lady'. Nothing was wrong. Yet, nothing was particularly right either. It was odd.

This morning, he was his feisty self in bed - some comment about Thatcher being right and it wasn't about feelings, it was about thoughts. This was meant to be a line to put me in my place because I hadn't like the way he had responded to my genuine suggestion about why his foot was hurting. I took umbrage and got out of bed, suggesting as I went that Thatcher was alone towards the end of her life and maybe being nice was a better way to go!

We met shortly thereafter in the kitchen.

"Are you all better now?" he asked.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"It's so predictable. You get a bit roughed up and you want to assert yourself."

I just looked at him. It was so true. For reasons I don't understand, every now and again, what would normally be seen as a really good time, isn't. It is. But, my response to it isn't the usual response.

He doesn't really let it bother him. It's clear he's not really bothered. But, it is, as he likes to call it a "danger period" and I gather he feels that what's important is to keep me contained and be clear about the fact that he is in control. That seems to get us over this little bump.

That's true.

What he doesn't know is that since that event, my mind is on fire. The thoughts about how I'm treated in my fantasy life are especially more intense: a more whispy cane, a firmer strike, a louder scream; a bigger plug, a longer containment...a very dumdum l'il thing.

I've had the sort of training that doesn't fade away. It's very much a part of my mind processes now. It's just who I am and how I process. Pride (ego) will rear it's head occasionally, making it all the more important that the control is firm and my place on the bottom well secured.

The self in writing

Consider this definition of autoethnography: Autoethnography is a form or method of social research that explores the researcher's personal experience and connects this autobiographical story to wider cultural, political, and social meanings and understandings.

We write here in web journals exploring our own minds, actions and behaviours. This allows other people to read our words on a day to day basis and we are, of course, at risk of becoming the leading lady (or man) in a soap opera of our own creation.

What makes the writing valid is not just authenticity (assuming we shoot for telling 'the truth') but some sort of overall 'truth' - some sort of consideration of other people.

Quite naturally, it seems, the individual writer sitting at her kitchen table in Toronto, or at his desk in Chicago or under a gum tree next to a billabong in Australia sets up an account and begins to write about his or her life, his or her thoughts and impressions. In no time, someone comments; someone links one journal to another and in a matter of weeks (or less), the individual is part of a wider community of like-minded people.

Over time, we probably all ask the same questions: 'Why am I writing here?' 'Am I writing here now for me or them? 'Am I writing here still to attain some validation for my thoughts from them? And, if they don't validate my thoughts, what then?'

Are these our stories or merely data for stories? Collectively, are we merely a group of deviants or a group of people whose inner lives are rich; whose alter egos demand a voice; whose inner desires to live in a way that seems authentic to them (but deviant to most of the community) have driven them to find a voice.

It occurred to me this past week that the people connected with a certain blog were the most astounding characters for a story. Yet, I only felt that when I actually knew the back story of their lives and even then, I was using my imagination to fill in what I didn't still know.These glimpses of our lives are really just a small part of the story of our lives and to the casual observer we must seem deviant indeed. In fact, we are good people going about living our lives lawfully, ethically; taking care of our families, our loved ones and helping little old ladies across the street.

In this era, social networking has encouraged an enormous amount of emphasis on the self, as opposed to people in a collective way. Yet, I'd argue that amongst all this introspection and outpouring of the ego there remains an effort to connect with others. It reminds me of the early days of the radio when radio enthusiasts sat in their garages and waited in the still of the night to hook up with someone, anyone out there in the void.

Our desire to connect with the other is vast and refuses to be quieted. In my writings here, there is a two edged ambition: the opportunity to express my 'self' in a way I cannot do in real life hardly at all and a desire to connect with like minded souls. The desire to connect is less to do with self validation as it is to gain sustenance from those folk who can offer me energy. Reading a submissive woman's words is always interesting but I confess I long for the dominant man's introspection. I long to read words quite unlike my own; the polar opposite, in fact. I seek to understand and thus I write and read.

Writing to write

Recently, I was offered the thought that I wrote to impress: to impress the reader. The opinion I was given was that I didn't write to write, to express myself, or to figure things out, but rather so that people would say that I was a good writer. It was felt that I was still ego laden.

These words have had an amazing effect on me. Frankly, I am troubled by them every day. I have conjured all sorts of ideas to resolve this: from writing only on my private blog, to opening a new public blog to writing differently here on Vesta.

On top of that, this particular period of time is very difficult for me as I begin to express all of myself verbally; something I am not at all comfortable with or have done before. When I told my doctor that I wanted to see a psychologist and why, I was aware that my voice had changed; that these revelations were in fact, an out of body experience. Somebody else was saying all this; surely it couldn't be contained, happy, in control, can cope with anything Vesta!

In the past few days, my inner turmoil has not just seeped out, but emotions have gushed in much the same way my country experienced an inland tsunami: in an abrupt, wild and threatening manner.

Whilst the waters are receding now and I'm returning to normal too, it occurred to me this morning that perhaps now is a good time to try to write in a way that is more true. This will not impress the reader. This is quite simply the free flowing and open thoughts of a submissive woman run off the rails but desperately trying to find her way back to a lifestyle that means everything to her. This is Vesta as you haven't seen her before.

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10/02/11

It came up a few weeks ago with M (for Mentor). I said, or rather cindi said, that she didn’t think that containing her emotions was a good idea and he replied that bimbos (non thinking fuck toys like cindi) didn’t need to contain themselves. Rather, they needed to be contained.

I deduced from that comment that it was all right to express my emotions, although I remain unconvinced of this fact. I think that the men I know want what they want and that includes a self contained, self evolved woman (or fucktoy, as the case may be).

O (for owner) is often completely absorbed in his own thoughts and projects, preferring to work into the dead of the night. It would suit him if I were happy, self-contained and able to always bounce back fast when he speaks to me in a way that I perceive as rude and uncaring (but which he forgets about the moment the words have passed his lips).

He wishes me no harm but at the same time is hopeful that I can take care of myself in stretches of time when he wishes to hyperfocus on his projects. That I give the impression that I am coping is what he takes to be true. He’s not inclined to delve further than that and I’m not inclined to express the distress that lays below the surface at those times when it is clear he wishes to be left alone to think or work.

In much the same way, M wants to interact with cindi. In fact, it is the only form of interaction available. Cindi, being a fucktoy doesn’t think and she doesn’t worry. She is playful, joyful; happy and obedient. She is contained and as I see it, her emotions must be contained, too. Hence, she can’t communicate if she is experiencing negative emotions for any reason. She simply doesn’t come on.

All hell broke loose yesterday. The dam burst and my emotions, long contained were released. I said a lot of things. I was very blunt. I need attention regularly, not sporadically. I want more sex. Stuff like that. But, the biggest thing I said was that I had put a lot of work into myself and he had put next to none into himself. It was time to stop referring to my behaviour and to look at his behaviour if we were to get this thing right.

“I want to have fun. I want joy in my life. I don’t want to just cope. I want to live my life. If you can’t do that, tell me now.” I remember saying that. I didn’t exactly mince words.

I had come to the end of my rope and he knew it. I needed him to hear me and I needed things to change. To his great credit, he let me rant and he comforted me the best way you can comfort a woman that has lost the plot.

I have taken and taken and taken until I can’t take any more. I need real change. I need him to look at life in a new way. Somewhere in there I think I said that I wanted to go live alone. The pain of living with a man who couldn’t embrace me for who I am was so burdensome; it seemed an agonizingly slow death. Better to just cut my own throat, was the thinking going on in my head, as best I understand it myself.

Seeing more clearly than I, he said that it was more of him that I was really asking for – not to go away - and that’s right. I need him to sort his affairs, and be prepared to enjoy the rest of his life as I want to enjoy the rest of my life.

Am I anxiety laden? Of course I am. I have been in the pressure cooker for far too long and I am making one huge leap up and out of there.

I want to live with my heart and soul filled with joy and peace and contentment. I want to live according to my nature. I want lots of lovely sex. I want what I want too.

Contain me to your heart’s content. Great! Remind me of my place. Fantastic. I’ll play and play and play. I adore to play. But contain my emotions at your peril for I am an emotional soul. I do experience all the emotions and I need to express them. It can’t always go the top’s way. I serve willingly and enthusiastically but I am a complete human being and I ask for care. Care for me, all of me (even the parts you don't necessarily want or like) and yea shall receive in abundance. That’s a promise.

The Ego and letting go

I have a strong sense of self. There is no doubt about it. I didn't come down in the last shower. I am no spring chicken and I know who I am.

Why do I write here? I see it as something of a personal journey; chronicling that journey and getting my thoughts down in a structured and coherent way. Yes, it can be read by whoever wishes to come along and read it but for reasons I am not entirely sure about, this way of getting down my thoughts provides a bit more discipline and structure for me.

I have a private blog with no readers whatsoever and no one but me knows the code. I guess you could say that it is more 'stream of consciousness' writing over there but as well, it is overly dramatic and in some ways not authentic, because it is writing at the top of my head, without thought and embarrassingly so. More than that, it would be hurtful to others for it is emotions gone awry and what I say in one moment can be negated in the other.

So, I come here to try to write down my story in a way that bares some weight; in a way that is true. In my mind, if my words are to be read by others, they need to have some measure and every word needs to be true and to feel right. I don't re-read my posts hardly ever, but if I did, I want to be proud of them; that I said what I meant but also that I applied some guidelines to my thought; that I didn't type so very much on the tips of my fingertips that I typed without some thought as to whether the words would stand the test of time.

Am I aware of the reader? Do I care what the reader thinks? Well, sometimes, I monitor what I say for a few reasons. I am aware of a few particular readers, though I try not to let that influence what I say.

Are some posts unnecessary? Yes, more than likely some posts did nothing more than indulge my desire to write something; anything at all. From the youngest age, I picked up a pen and wrote as my way of expressing myself and I love to write; to create sentences and paragraphs and posts and stories. I can't write very much with a pen these days, unfortunately. I love to type my thoughts because I think too fast most times to write them all down with a pen. Though interestingly, if a thought is very important to me, I write it into one of my kinky notebooks that travel with me wherever I go and to which I refer constantly.

A new school year began here today. The heat wave is over and there is some coolness to the air. It feels like a good moment to try something new - to move into the next chapter of this journey of discovery. So, for this next chapter, a conscious effort will be made to write as if I am writing for myself alone; as if there were no readers at all. And, let's see how that goes, if something changes and there are a whole new set of lessons to learn; if I can let that ego slip away and provide me with new sights and insights.

Ego

When I have made errors in relation to being submissive it has been caused by my ego. We established that much. I have always had ego in mind; always was travelling towards a point where I felt I had myself completely under control but still, I made mistakes and let myself down.

The weekend did not have a happy beginning and in my mind I felt completely confused. I was almost as restless as I have ever been. I got on with life and did my best but I was not at all happy. On Saturday evening, my husband and I talked; about what I was trying to achieve, about the mentoring and about me and my traits. At bedtime, sleep was elusive. I had printed out something to read earlier in the day – quite a long document - and I found a quiet corner in the house and proceeded to read it in total silence.

By the end of the article, my life had changed and I knew that I would never feel lost again; never suffer the agonies of such confusion and despair as I had felt in the previous day or so. I wish that I could describe exactly what happened. All I can really say is that when I began to read the article I was deeply upset and sometime towards the end of the article, I felt a glow about me; a deep sense of warmth and peace; of clarity and pure thought. I no longer felt profoundly vulnerable, privy to being hurt by someone else. I no longer feared. I felt strong and capable.

I returned to our bed. I nestled into my husband and felt very warm towards him. And, in the morning we made love; sometimes sweet and tender, sometimes dominating and rough, but all much enjoyed and desired. We enjoyed an incredibly happy and connected day together with our children and I noticed that in all his comments, he was respectful, calm and loving. It seemed that my new outlook and understanding had shed its warmth all over him, as well.

So, what happened? The previous week was a time of great uncertainty and confusion for me – what the article referred to as “a chaos”. It said this,

“And remember, there is going to be an interim period, an interval, where the ego will be shattered, when you will not know who you are, when you will not know where you are going, when all boundaries will melt.”

Exactly right. That was just how I had been and was feeling.

“Because of this chaos, you are afraid to lose the ego. But it has to be so. One has to pass through the chaos before one attains to the real centre.”

I was ready to listen and learn and move forward.

“...if you don’t fall back to the ego and you go on and on, there is a hidden center within you that you have been carrying for many lives. That is your soul, the self.”

Now, came the moment of vision for me...

“Have you ever noticed that all types of miseries enter through the ego (the false center)? It cannot make you blissful: it can only make you miserable. Ego is hell.”

It made perfect sense to me. I could feel the wretched misery running away as if I had let the plug out from the bath.

“A man who attains to the self is never in any clash. Others may come and clash with him, but he is never in clash with anybody.”

It was his use of the word “attention” that spoke to me; a submissive woman who thrives on attention:

“The ego lives on attention...A real beggar is one who asks for and demands attention. And a real emperor is one who lives in himself; he has a center of his own, he doesn’t depend on anyone else.”

It opened my eyes to loss and how I feel about that. I’ve spent considerable time and energy wondering what might happen to me when and if my husband dies. How could I live without him? How do you go from a power exchange to nothing: just yourself, alone? But, letting go of ego now, and instead reaching to the ‘self’ – that we come with when we are born – provides the inner strength and courage for all adversity.

When we expect something and it does not happen, our ego is shaken and it makes us unhappy. We look to causes outside of us when the cause of the problem is inside of us. We make ourselves miserable. What a revelation! I had control over my own feelings!

The article says that we should not try to “drop the ego”. Rather, one day when you see that it is the ego that is the cause of despair, it simply disappears.

“The very understanding is the disappearance of the ego.”

I understood right there and then. And, my ego quite simply, drained away.

As I write this, I cannot say that I fully understand what this clarity of thought means to my feelings of submission. I can say that all desire/need to rebel or protest against the limitations of my submission has gone. I am currently in a position where I am not being asked about my tasks and yet, I do what I have been told, silently and without fanfare. There is no praise to receive and yet I feel empowered to follow on with the tasks as prescribed. She doth not protest.

Mid way in the article is this:

“This is how people become dependent on others. It is a deep slavery. Ego HAS to be a slave. It depends on others. And only a person who has no ego is for the first time a master; he is no longer a slave.”

I do feel liberated. I do feel a master of my own fate. Yet, it is my nature to be submissive; to look to care for others and to put them first; to want them to be happy and to receive my own happiness through them; their love for me and my love for them. I continue to strive to have the closest of connections with people and find purpose in my life through giving to them. Nothing has changed here.

What has changed is that I feel empowered to take responsibility for my own self; to recognize that when I am miserable it is my ego at play. I know now how to just let it fall away. It is my fervent wish and hope that this will enable me to thrive within the power exchange dynamic already in play. We shall see.

Training: beyond 101

It's no secret that I am receiving training as a 'doll'; a plaything; an entity not interested in thoughts beyond pleasure and pleasing; playful; arousing; without ego.

I've taken to the ideas I've been introduced to via that training rather well. Naturally, I've found some resistance to some of the notions. At first, they seemed ridiculous in the extreme. But, as I've lived with them and grown with them, I've come to see the enormous value of them in my life, both within the marriage and as well, my inner life. I don't advocate those notions for anyone else necessarily but the simple truth is that they work for me very, very nicely.

I've never spoken to anyone else who has had a similar sort of training and I've no idea where I fit in the scale of those girls trained to think as I now do. But, it has occurred to me that one reason the ideas work for me is that I see life through a fairly straightforward lens. Possibly, I have just enough ego (not too much and not too little) to have an alter ego; to recognize where harmony may lie and to be unafraid to venture there, finally. I'm really just thinking out loud right now; wrapping my head around new thoughts. It could be that as a capable girl lacking in self-confidence on various levels, I found my confidence in that alter ego. There is food for thought in that idea.

Whilst I have never met girls who have trained as I have, I know one or two via the Internet and reading there it seems clear (to me) that we have something in common. We all live with very arrogant men. I definitely want to explore that thought more, too.

And, most importantly, I want to explore more why it is that I still find myself wanting to run away from situations, initially at least, that make me feel vulnerable, exposed and in competition with other girls. Is this vulnerability and lack of confidence of my own skills and appeal the reason why I can speak so openly and candidly with my men friends, but feel afraid to share all of myself with women?

Just when I thought I was doing marvellously well, shedding layers of the onion almost effortlessly, I come across a skin that I am guarding with my life. I can actually feel the anxiety inside myself as I try so hard to open myself to new experiences that frighten me for fear of what they might reveal from inside of my head.

I have found, and continue to find this exploration rewarding and revealing and rich. It intrigues me and unsettles me to realize that I may have only just begun to scratch at the surface at what is possible and what my deeply hidden thoughts may reveal. The unknown has me unsettled and tingling with electricity at the same moment.

Not just a fantasy

One of the best parts of the mentoring process for this girl is that she has coped so much better than she ever did before with stressful and worrying situations. She is a much more relaxed person. But, this weekend she was tested as her household experienced an enormous amount of stress. Her husband and she are decent people and wish no one any harm. But, when they see wrongdoing such as became evident to them in the past few days, they needed to take action immediately. Again, they are subjected to the instincts of others to do whatever it takes to procure a pot of gold.

First of all, the thinking girl had to suppress her anger. It takes a lot of energy to be angry and knowing that, she had to put it aside. Nor was her sense of sadness of any use to them at all. Yes, people calling themselves “friends”, promising to work together had been disloyal, manipulative and dishonest but her sadness was also sapping the energy required to respond to these events.

In their individual shock and despair, her husband and she separated for a time; he to his study and she to regain her composure and focus. She thought about her training. What would the doll do in such a situation? Being of service, sexually speaking was out of the question. Time was of the essence and the task required all their adrenaline to be put towards stopping these cheats.

She took a deep breath, made a cup of tea and brought it to her husband. They hugged and chatted briefly. He had no choice, he said. His responsibilities required him to act. She said she understood. These past few intense months where he worked on the project day and night, robbing them of time together may be for nothing, but in spite of that it was his responsibility to do what he must do. She said she understood and she did.

As a submissive woman, she is asked to quieten her ego; to even become ego-less. Cindi is ego-less. She has nothing to prove and she has no negative states. She is always relaxed; always happy; always wanting to please. She is a thing of beauty; perhaps an angel on earth. She is good. It was to cindi’s goodness that she would aspire. The girl was clear as to how to respond and in their shared focus, the girl and her husband were reconnected.

This morning, alone in the house for a short time, she put on some music that might allow her to relax whilst she did some housework and these lyrics popped out at her: “...hoping to find some peace of mind...not just a fantasy...”

Cindi is not just a fantasy in the girl’s world. Cindi has a real place in her heart, her mind and her soul as she reaches out for peace of mind. She lives not just in the girl’s bedroom but in her psyche; in her every day.

It is true that in her egoless state Cindi is not a thinking doll. Dolls do not think. Nor does the doll have a burning desire to write. The girl knows this; acknowledges the contradiction. Yet, since the day she could hold a pen, she has put words to paper in her efforts to make sense of the world.

This morning she has given in to her instincts to do what is right for her at this time and recommence writing on this blog. Is it her ego talking? Perhaps; she is far from perfect. Yet, she derives comfort in her return here, having searched her mind for the motive in doing so. She requires no kudos or praise. She returns to write for the best reason of all: for herself. A little company along the way shoud do no harm and is appreciated.