Flow

It's perspiration even more than inspiration that gets the job done, they say. It's the inability to sit down and say, 'I am doing _____ right now', to focus, that has me berating myself some days. In an effort to motivate myself to adjust my mood I walk, and as I do, inspiration pays me a visit.

I sit and begin to write, a scene that's about, as it turns out, that fickle nature of mine, and others, where moods gyrate back and forth, according to the other person's responses, gestures, tone; appraisal.

Spiritually speaking, this is NOT the way it is supposed to go. The gurus will tell you, 'Don't let him/her bother you. So, he's not as evolved as you, no matter. Notice. Move on. Focus on the breathing. You're the calm, the stone in the river. Let the forces go around you. Nothing bothers a stone.'

Nice. If it always worked like that, wouldn't it be nice?

But, of course, it's not so easy to snuff off other people's moods, responses, non-responses. It's not so easy when one wakes up on the wrong side of the bed. It's imminently useful for creating drama in writing because that's what people do day in and day out: infer, assume, respond inappropriately, agitate, ignore, become absorbed elsewhere; behave less than ideally for the other. People rub one another up the wrong way, often without realizing that happened, and this sends signals up the put. It leads to other courses of action and one mistake might magnify mindless other miscalculations. Before you know it it's a 'Woody Allenesque' farce.

I do wonder some days, do I need a BDSM experience to centre me, exorcise, or do I instead exercise, or sort, or write, to deal with the sense of disorder that mirrors my mood and moves illogically. From where does this appetite come and how the hell can I get fed fast before low blood sugar (metaphorically speaking) does its worst?

I think this is what happens to submissives sometimes, and to Dominants as well; an overwhelming desire to use the other for support and to scratch the itch. Maybe that's what I needed today, ideally,  for the desire needed to be fed in some way. It is, in a sense, second best, but that hunger led to resuming a project that has laid dormant waiting for the seed of inspiration to be met with perspiration; in other words, focus. It's 'flow', flow that must calm the mind and soothe the soul, one way or the other.

Personal power

I have been thinking about the 'personal power' chakra and I have been thinking too about the visualization that my meditation teacher told us about in some detail - a way of making the personal power chakra stronger. I even mentioned it to my psychologist in one of my final sessions. (There have only been ten sessions but they have been stretched out over a few months.)

My psychologist is very much a pragmatist, a recovering perfectionist, a feminist who I can see bristling when I mention 'submission' and so I knew that the chakras would not be her thing. But, I felt the need to tell her that I thought the chakras and my personal power weakness to be related to my thoughts - and thoughts are definitely her thing.  I explained to her that I very, very much wanted to maintain balance in life - to have peace within myself by finding my boundary point (or balance) within and not allowing other people to interfere overly in maintaining that balance.

I explained to her that I sometimes felt that my joyful and peaceful state was disrupted by others who needed me to deal with their own upset and distress and that despite my best efforts to stay calm and balanced within myself, their upset upset me.

Somehow or other we were quickly into the world of my thoughts and she was going over old territory and delving further. We were talking about my "guilt" and blind Freddie could have seen that she had a point. When I had a plan of my day or my morning and some loved one came along with their own needs of me I quickly bought into the notion that their needs superseded my own. Although I was put off balance by this I invariably gave into their needs due to my feelings of guilt that otherwise I would be considered a "bad mother" or a "bad wife" or a "bad submissive". It went back to the notion of "subjugation" and it needed to return to the notion of "assertiveness" where I had the personal power to express the fact that I had needs of my own. I needed to create "barriers" around myself, she said.

I told her that I had been accepted for the Masters of Writing programme at my desired institution but was a little concerned. My desk was close to the action of the household, although I did have a little nook in my sights upstairs where I would have more privacy. She went in for the kill. Yes, the nook was a good idea and when there, unless it was an emergency, I should not be interrupted, she said. I had to be forceful about this. I had to claim my right for this to be considered important to me.

I needed to write new "narratives", she said. I needed to see that it was not helpful to other people to always jump to their beck and call. They needed to understand the consequences for their own actions and to rely less on me. Most of all, I needed to drop the guilt. I had devoted my life to my family and this was my time in the sun. She was still talking softly but I could see she was firm about this. At one point she even said, "tell them that Michelle said..." Oh boy!

This morning I went to my yoga class and when we completed the class with our regular relaxation time on our mats I felt ready to try something that I had been thinking about for 5 days. I decided to try the meditation that my teacher had told me about to boost my personal power. It just seemed the right time to do that.

I was at the base of a mountain; a beautiful and lush mountain, perhaps in Bali. I was dressed comfortably for the warmth of the day and I began the trek up the mountain; step by step up the wooden steps. By the time I reach the mountain top, a plateau, I was weary but invigorated by the beautiful view of other mountain caps in the distance. It was all stunningly green and the heavens seemed close.

Maybe 100 metres away I saw a beautiful, brightly coloured cushion and a small fireplace glowing bright. I approached the cushion and saw that there was paper and pen on the cushion and I picked it up and sat down on the cushion with my legs crossed. I knew that I was here for a purpose and on the paper I wrote down the behaviours of one person in particular; the behaviours of that person towards me that had hurt me. I made a list of those behaviours and when I had finished I crunched the paper into a ball.

I held the ball of paper in my hand, and registering that the person was indeed very safe and that I only had influence over their hurtful behaviours, I carefully placed the ball of paper into the fire. I did not take my eyes off the paper until the flames had turned every bit of the paper into ash and even then I sat for a minute or so and accepted that the bad behaviours of the past had been destroyed.

I felt my breathing soften and calm and as I looked about me, east and west, I could see nothing but spectacular beauty. I had an urge to stand and as I stood I felt a desire to bring my hands up to the heavens. I twirled and felt a magnificent lightness of being. My chest swelled with a knowledge of my new found personal power. I felt it lift upwards and I felt the surge of energy.

In real life, I was still laying on my yoga mat in a room full of women but I was unable to stop the tears that flowed from my eyes and down the sides of my face. This was a surreal moment; a holy, sacred moment of love and power and energy. My personal power chakra overflowed with a new sense of enlightenment.

It is said that one meditates when one needs to be with oneself and when one is ready, and each person knows this instinctively if they care to listen to themselves, they will return to the relationships of their lives and have more to give. My heart tells me very clearly that this is time to meditate.I trust that this will renew me in such a way that my loved ones will ultimately be the benefactors of my understanding that we must each have a relationship with ourselves. This does not, in my estimation, go against submission but merely makes for a more complete human being, better able to express his or her true nature.

The Simple Life

There is not just me - there is another person inside of me, always competing for space.Take right now as an example: I've agreed to meet a group of women in the city for what is likely to be a fun night out. I'm all dressed up and ready to go to the train shortly and I know that accepting the invitation was not only the right thing to do but an event I wanted to attend. And yet, the other side of my personality is berating me for accepting an invitation so soon after arriving home, amassed in work at home and groggy with jet lag. The other side of my personality wants to have a bath, put on her nightie, tuck down on the couch with a blanket and watch the royal wedding.

I often feel that the goal is simplicity - a state of mind that is restful; not at all restless; patient and understanding; compliant and able to accept. But, that is not all of me. Inside, I'm irked my shoddy behaviour, low standards; incompetence; neglect. I've been known to talk to myself in the shower which I think of as synonymous with a man who must punch a hanging ball. I need to expunge my inner thoughts and frustrations which are not the least suited to a woman attempting to be as close as she can to a perfect doll.

I know what I should be, how I should think and act but my independent streak; the woman who simply wants what she wants in the moment (her own way)sometimes shouts me down.

And yet, when I come up against a dominant force, regularly and decisively, the other side goes away. Little miss independence and little miss judgemental and little miss 'you can't tell me what to do!' can't begin to compete with the lure of pleasure and joy that I feel when immersed in the game; when I feel contained and restrained; when I bunker down into my submissive space. When the dominant force is abundant and strong, there are no competing interests. I'm aware of the ownership; of the limits; the containment and I send the other personality packing; wondering what I ever saw in her; that girl who has so much to say; to think; to fuss about.

When the dominant force is absent I am more complex. TruIy, I yearn for the simple life: contained, restrained, limited; joyously boxed into the tightest space. A dominant force is my life force; a simple state of mind; a simpler me.

Attention

It is no secret that the submissive finds the attention she receives from her dominant appealing. Even if a girl (another reminder here that I know not all submissives are girls, but I don't feel that I have any knowledge about submissive males that is worth sharing) does not consciously realize that this is a major reason why she wants to be under the power of a dominant, on some level she knows that she is a bit of an attention sponge. I don't say this disparagingly. I am, after all, one of those attention sponges of whom I speak.

We all know what it is like to be speaking to someone not paying attention to our words. They tend to lose engagement in the conversation, merely nodding or perhaps thinking their own thoughts. Their gaze begins to wander around the room. You know you have lost them.

My husband and I caught a lovely show from the UK last night on the television; 'Outnumbered'. The parents were trying to talk to the grandfather about the fact that he was too unwell to live in his own home. The children had been settled elsewhere, but of course, in one came (a precocious seven year old)to ask if he could have some biscuits.

"Yes. All right. Go!"

"Can I get my head shaved, too?" he then asked.

He knew that they were not listening to him; merely paying him 'lip service'.

A dominant does not listen to his submissive at his peril. He has to be 'in the moment'. He has to pay attention to her exclusively in order to do his job well. Whilst at times it can be 'challenging' to answer all the dom's questions, the submissive is appreciative of the attention. He does not want to misinterpret what she is saying. He might ask her to define a word, to put her words in another way, to explain further what she means. All this time, he is paying close attention to her words, and even the way she moves her body. Is she looking straight at him or has she glanced out the window? Is she straightforward in her speech or is she using generalities? He wants to be sure of her meaning.

In the past day I have read two very interesting posts and both of them relate to the issue of a dominant needing to pay attention to the girl, at the exclusion of all else. Whilst together, he is focused on her and only her. Mr. Cross notes:

"When I am working a girl, or training, or mentoring, I feel it is critical to be in the moment. One does not wish to be distracted by thoughts of what has been, or what may be. For myself, if I am to read a girl's responses well, then I must focus my attention on her. Interestingly, I often find that my focus is so directed that I am not even paying attention to my own responses."

In his story of the cherry picker, Deity notes (and by the way, welcome back Deity. It is such a pleasure to see you publishing again!):

"He took to his tasks with the same qualities. His calling was the thousands of cherry trees growing in the orchard just outside his door. He didn't see the empty pails waiting to be filled with the sweet, red morsels. Nor did he see trees teeming with ripe fruit, ready for his gathering. Instead, he saw only individual cherries popping from the tree into his hand. Each garnet, with its rosy skin and firm, yet curved rump received his undivided attention."

It is one of the greatest gifts a girl can be given; to be the recipient of undivided attention. When he shines his light on her, she begins to believe that she can be whatever he wants her to be. She can shine bright.

Without adequate attention the connection between the dominant and the submissive fades. She needs that attention like she needs oxygen to breathe. He knows that, and he watches carefully; questions closely.

All is well.

The Headmaster wants to see you

“The headmaster wants to see you in his study."

You wish you could run away, but you know you cannot. He would find you and it would be much worse. With a grim determination, you walk down the corridors until you reach his big, wooden door.

You stand there, trying to find the courage to knock on the door. Eventually, you walk up to it, and knock lightly. There is no answer. You knock again, this time a little more loudly.

“Enter.”

You open the door.

“Yes, Williams, what is it?”

“You asked to see me, Sir?”

“Ah, yes, Williams! Come in, girl. Over here.”

He is pointing to the spot in front of his desk.

You close the door behind you and very quietly go to the spot and stand in front of him, seated at his big, old oak desk. You put your hands behind your back.

“Williams, I have been told that you are persistently making spelling errors in your writing.”

You consider this unfair. You love to write stories, and are much more concerned with ideas than with boring things like correct spelling.

“Yes Sir. I am sorry, Sir.”

“Well, you should be less sorry, girl, and more focussed on spelling correctly.”

“Yes Sir.”

“I am going to teach you, Williams, that spelling is very important and that spelling errors will not be tolerated.”

“Yes Sir.”

You see him walk over to his cupboard. You watch while he brings down a few of his favourite canes and selects one.

“Perhaps, when you are sitting on a well striped bottom, Williams, you will focus better on your spelling. We’ll see!”

You begin to panic. You are familiar with the cane he has chosen.

“But Sir...”

“Are you arguing with me, girl?

“No Sir.”

“That’s wise, Williams.”

“Yes Sir.”

“All right. Bend over and touch your toes.”

Gingerly, you bend down and wrap your hands around your ankles. You feel the cane being tapped across your summer skirt. It provides little protection to your poor tight, waiting bottom.

“Keep down, girl. Once you’ve had six of the best, I have a feeling we won’t be seeing too many more spelling errors. My cane has a way of making a girl focus.”

“Yes Sir.”

You await the first, searing stroke, and make a mental note to keep your dictionary at the ready for the rest of your life.