Portals

 I listen frequently to a meditation inspired by the work of Joe Dispenza. Joe likes to take the person to a sense of being in space, of surrendering all the past hurts and negative emotions, the pain, the disease to what is sometimes called Source. It's a place where all identity and personality are stripped away. You are nothing, nobody, nowhere.

You surrender all the tightness, stiffness, rigidity, worry and in return you receive a sense of calm, equanimity, harmony. I found my mind this morning landing on the word 'harmony'. Isn't it such a lovely word!

It's been an interesting process lately as my mind has been letting go of unfulfilled expectations. I didn't will this to happen, couldn't have done that if I tried. I am simply noticing what is happening - the falling away of expectations of certain outcomes. Maybe one could call it being very present. I really do think the meditation is having a very soothing effect on me.

It can be a bit of a tightrope experience, life, doing one's best to achieve best outcomes, not just for oneself but those we love...and then accepting that we only have so much control over our experiences.

And, maybe that's a good thing, in a way, part of the journey on this planet, to cede to the mystery.

It's an interesting phenomenon to cede to the mystery, at the same time as recognizing the messages of our bodies. Maybe the ego wants this, but the spirit wants that. Who are you going to listen to? There's definitely more than one voice in our heads, as you would know if you sat and listened for a while - competing voices at that.

In the midst of the above meditation, there's a whole lot of nothingness, which is truly divine (and why I love good masterful sex). Within that nothingness there's an openness too - mystery tinged with curiosity. It's like the slight opening of an unknown portal; a new experience of You.

Thy life's a miracle

 Since I can't vote in the US election, like everybody except American citizens, one is left to watch, hope and pray that American citizens will take their responsibility, and their opportunity, seriously to return the world back to some sort of balance, harmony and unity.

I happened to meet someone out walking yesterday and we were saying how lucky we are to be Australians. We conform to rules. We accept lock downs in an effort to keep the vulnerable safe. We care about others. We do things for the greater good. 

In my city we have been under curfew for months. Right now, the curfew has been eased so that we can be out of our houses for a few specific and vital reasons until 9 pm. 'That wouldn't fly here,' said an American friend.

The friend in the street agreed that the Greeks wouldn't tolerate it either. But, apart from a bit of grumbling here and there, we are tolerant of the restrictions. We see the point, the plan; the reasoning, based on best medical advice.

My friend happened to have a pet emergency last night and as he drove to have the dog operated on, across several suburbs, he met not another car on the street. Honestly, we comply.

I admit I am nostalgic right now for a better America. (American was my home for 11 years and I love the place.) I watched the whole SBS 'Hillary' documentary this week, and interviews with various members of the Bush family. What kind and decent people they are, and Laura and  George produced two really 'beautiful in spirit' young women.

Then, I spent time yesterday afternoon watching Supreme Court Justice Ginsberg in conversation at a few law schools. She was so considerate and gentle with the students, so well aware that behind all her decisions were people. I loved the line, 'You can disagree without being disagreeable.'

Anything that divides masses of people, anything at all, is really such a bad idea. It goes against the law of mankind, people living together on the one planet; that you treat people as you would want them to treat you. It's that simple. Haven't we learned this over the centuries a hundred times over?

Who actually wants a man like Donald Trump as their leader? The lies, the accusations, the false statements; the vendettas; the thirst for love and approval displayed on the world stage. Which other President of the United States in modern time has even come close to creating such acrimony, such division; such disgust?

On a spiritual level, the World Wide Web created the opportunity for the West to learn about the open hearted kindness, gratitude and tranquility practices of the East. It felt hopeful. Imagine if people across the Globe developed awareness! Imagine all the people, living life in peace!

I do feel we are at a crossroads. There are people so fearful for the sake of the planet they believe, based on evidence available, that we may be the last people to walk this Earth. 

For the sake of the world at this time, we need a new direction. Nothing is more important for you to do in your American lives than to get out and vote. What possible plausible reason can you give for not attending to this civic responsibility? Please, vote.

Mellowing

Some mornings are stressful. We know this. This morning my son couldn't find an item that he carries with him at virtually all times and it really, really bothered him. Knowing that he was bothered, that upset me and I did what I could to find it, to no avail. Dropping him off at school, I encouraged him to "let it go" for now and perhaps once his mind was more relaxed the memory of what had happened would return. I empathize greatly because I feel very out of sorts when I don't have things in their place and I know what he goes through when he loses something too.

We talked about all this last year, the therapist and I. She said that perhaps I was putting too much stock in how distressed someone else in my life was feeling. In relation to another son she said, "While you are fretting over the exchange he's on the tram happily listening to his I Pod." Good point...I guess. It's hard for me to think about someone I care about in distress, especially if my behavior might have caused them any distress. It's what you might call being too empathic or having too strong a sense of guilt.

Later in the morning, I made myself go to Pilates class. I thought it my best shot to 'let go' of my sense of being stressed out. I know all the relaxation strategies now but with each passing day I am finding it harder and harder to be around obsessive-compulsive behavior. I want very much to just let the day come and to handle it in a calm state of mind.

People who live alone or maybe just with a partner probably have no idea what I am talking about. Unless you've been in the chaos of family life and one or more children have special needs of one kind or another you can't understand (and I wouldn't expect you to understand) how all these distractions and mini-crises trigger the senses for flight or fight, with multiple physiological responses. Of course, they are the teeniest tiniest of crises and they come and go. They are the daily grist of the mill for parents and partners of perfectionist-oriented people and the trick becomes to be aware of the tension around you, but not to let it make you tense. I keep working on this; to let it pass through me.

However, I keep moving forward to the thought that whilst I want dominance I'd prefer a rather delicate sort of dominance these days. I want the dominant to be calm; in control of himself; at peace; settled. This calm approach to life and crisis of all types would then encourage me to be settled. I want him to be a good role model for me. I want him to tell me calmly that everything will be all right in the end and if it's not all right, then it's not the end.

I've been surrounded by hot-heads and obsessive-compulsive anal retentives all my life. God bless them. It's take one to know one and I understand their complex, driven minds. However, the pleasure of a quiet man, a calm and settled person is a drawcard, I must say. It makes me think of hugs and smiles; pats on the head; someone being pleased with me; listening to gentle music; drinking soft-palette wine; nights on the porch in summer and nights by the fire in winter. It is a comforting thought for me; a gentle, wistful sort of thought which very much suits my desired state of mind. It is said that men soften with maturity; that they are gentle and compassionate with age and maturity. No wonder women enjoy the company of the older man.

The leader and the personal assistant

We had a book club meeting recently and since there were just four of us in town we decided to do it in style, meeting at a restaurant and having a long, leisurely lunch. Three of us shared a bottle of wine and the conversation flowed easily and rapidly across a vast terrain. Although I type a lot I actually don't talk a lot and especially not when with these girls. They love to talk and being the voyeur that I am, I like to listen until there's a gap and that's when I open up.

One of the women is a therapist; not a psychologist but a particular therapist offering a certain type of therapy to those people who need a new way of looking at their lives. Given that she's had a traumatic past herself  and has overcome that trauma to be happy I think she's in a good place to offer other people assistance now. I listen carefully for her little gems that she tends to drop into the conversation.

She said that when we choose a partner for life we tend to choose someone that will fill the void in us. This person usually can do something or be something or act in such a way as to give us abilities/characteristics that we don't as yet have.

I thought about that and I think this does apply to me. I met my husband at university and what I noticed about him right away was that, whilst he wasn't the life of the party or the court jester, he was much more extroverted than me; more adventurous and experimental.

I really needed a man like this. Although it may not have seemed that way to other people I was scared of my own shadow back then and unless someone launched me into life I was likely to lead a rather small life. It was my husband who taught me about farm life and how to deal with bulls charging at me and poisonous snakes who were coming at me; mice; discomfort; long hours of work.

It was my husband who took me overseas; who simply went round and round the Champs Elysee roundabout until he found the exit he next wanted to go. It was my husband who told me it would be all right. In the year we started going out I bought a poster to put on my college room wall and it was a photograph of a boy walking through a field all alone. The caption read

I don't know where I am going but I am on my way.

I've no idea now what exactly I was thinking when I was attracted enough to the poster to buy it but looking back it epitomized my new life with my future husband. I honestly had no idea where he was leading me but I was prepared to tag along.


Now, my friend also said that this thing about our spouse that completes us can go close to killing us. It is tremendously challenging in the long run to run up against that thing in ourselves that isn't all that comfortable and when our spouse has that thing in spades, that's deeply confronting.

What my husband has in spades is a desire for the novel; to test himself; to prove himself; to attempt to have a big score; to explore unknown territory; to hyper focus on an issue of interest; to protect; to demand; to insist; to have his own way; to procrastinate until he sees the whole picture; to want perfection above all else.

What comes naturally to me is to be careful; to be organized; to plan; to be vigilant; to look after; to nurture, to take baby steps towards a goal; to contemplate and consider; to focus on beauty and the aesthetic; to want momentum; to be safe.

As much as he completes me, he frustrates me and as much as I complete him, he finds me frustrating.

You might say...well, just as well there's a leader then...and perhaps this is so.

But, let's be clear that in relation to many things it is best that I lead and he knows this...best that I lead when organizing social and cultural events, best that I lead when organizing the lives of the children, best that I lead when maintaining a home or getting food into the house or getting us fed or determining what next to do in the renovation.

Now, this gets enormously tricky and huge wads of patience, understanding and quiet convincing are required. I want my way (to get things done) and he wants his way (to be left to do things at his own pace and in his own way even if that means they will never get done) and we have to find some middle road.

We also have to find the middle road between taking huge chances and thinking big (his tendency) and being careful and not risking too much (my tendency).

It's all a super duper delicate game of chess (which is unfortunate because I don't play chess and he does!)

I have heard this kind of relationship referred to as 'the electric energy' between a couple which means that they are likely to have the kind of relationship where they fight a lot and make up a lot and the fun is in the making up. Yes, it was like that for years and years until I discovered that one of my tendencies is to hate to fight and now I'm silent a lot more; wait out my time a lot more; stay vigilant for an opportunity to convince and cajole so that he may see through my lens from time to time. (Asking is good in theory and may work for many people but is not an adequate strategy in my case.)

It's the delicate argy-bargy required when a person like me discovers that she's the kind of gal that needs a leader but the leader needs a secretary.

Self soothing

In my younger days, when my husband said something to me that offended me, I would, surprisingly enough, feel offended. I would feel out of sorts because even if I told him that he had offended me or that the comment wasn’t called for, he would not necessarily acknowledge that he had done something wrong and/or apologize. He, to put it in a nutshell, would stand on his dignity. 

It could leave me feeling out of sorts and not feeling particularly close to him for minutes, hours or sometimes, days. Such a situation presented itself on our first date, so technically speaking, it should have come as no surprise and I should have been ready for his flamboyant approach to life, but are you ever really ready?

The pattern often was that eventually I would go to him and sort it out. I would take that responsibility on myself because I do so deplore that feeling of discord with someone. Sometimes, he would come to me and rough me up a bit psychologically – sort of, cajole and tease me out of my funk. He got his girl back without actually acknowledging his mistake and that worked well for him. Of course, occasionally he would admit that he may have been indiscreet or spoke without taking into account my feelings. He knows he has a temper and when younger, he would say “sorry” to me quite frequently.

Time wore on and I searched for a better way. I read about the process of ‘self soothing’ and this, for me, was the answer I had been looking for. I didn’t need to allow his sense of drama, or speaking without really thinking or telling me off without knowing all the details of the situation, derail me. I could go away and “cleanse myself”. I could use deep breathing and silence to settle me down. 

Perhaps later, when the situation had passed on I might note that it was upsetting when he got cross without giving me an opportunity to explain, or whatever, but the point was that I wasn’t bogged down with feelings of anger or upset at what seemed an unfair situation. I had yet to recognize that it was my comments that were often at fault in the first place and I had to learn how to say certain things such as what I wanted from him.

I frequently use a method of not saying much when he needs to verbalize his emotions out in the air; my air space particularly. I use an enormous amount of tact these days and this pays the most wonderful benefits for both of us because when his emotions are whirling, to confront him or accuse him at that moment has negative consequences. He won’t respond to the rightness or the wrongness of the matter there or then but merely digs in his heels and asserts his position. Far better to self soothe, to hold my tongue and bide my time until it is the right time to tell him how that little episode affected me or what my intentions really were.

Even then, it is rare I will go into too much depth about it. I am most likely to brush over the event, perhaps noting that he may have been unreasonable. We both know he can be unreasonable at times and even after the fact I have to watch how and what I say. He can still be feisty about it hours and hours later and what is the point in reheating the stew really?

This is all to suggest that my husband doesn’t take my feelings into account which is certainly not at all true. He is a very sweet, kind and considerate husband and expresses his love for me in a countless number of ways.

But, from the very first day, he made it patently clear that any girl who called herself his girlfriend would understand who held the power in the relationship. Tackle him if you wished, but be prepared for a long, protracted discussion about the fitness of your argument and complaint. 

The mentoring gave me ample opportunity to hone my skills in self soothing (boy, are they alike!) and except for those absolutely stupid moments when I choose to tackle I find I have self-soothing down to a fine art. When you give yourself  the responsibility of calming yourself and settling yourself; enabling yourself to think rationally and clearly in any situation, solutions present themselves much more easily and much angst is avoided.

I don’t see this as giving in, or not having a voice but rather using my voice to maximum effect in the most appropriate ways and moments. It certainly has aided harmony.

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.

Happy holiday

The festive season is well underway and in a few days, it will be Christmas. This is my last opportunity to wish all readers, whatever your faith, a very happy holiday.

May it be filled with fun and good cheer. Stay safe and well, spread the joy and have a very happy, blessed holiday.

Training the doll

It occurred to me recently that I have never really written directly about what my time in training as ‘the doll’ has been like. I’ve written as ‘cindi’ so you know something about what I experience. However, I don’t think I have said much at all about what the training has meant to me. It has meant a great deal; changed and altered me in ways I could never have imagined at the outset. It sustains me; fulfils me; consoles and comforts me; allows me to sink into my alter ego in a way that provides me with sustenance and energy. It has been the greatest of gifts in my life and this post is my attempt to explain that process.

From the outset, I was given limits and boundaries; contained. I was told that the only appropriate way for a doll to talk was in the third person. This seemed relatively natural to me from the outset and very soon, completely natural. Over time, words such as “are” ,” is” and “am” were denied. It took a few days for me to get the hang of it but I never for a moment rejected the idea. At least, I have no memory whatsoever of a rebellious thought towards the limit imposed.

There is one day when the limit was new that stands out in my memory where I was making mistake after mistake and eventually he had had enough of it. I earned myself 100 lines and was told immediately after completing the lines that I was to type the first thing that entered my head. I was truly ashamed to discover that I had made another mistake and that sense of shame stayed with me for a long time. I vowed never to do it again, and whilst I must surely have made the odd error over the next few weeks, I accepted my limit into my heart and embraced it as the way I would always speak with him.

There have been fleeting moments, I admit, when I have thought how wonderfully bold it would be to write across the page, “IS IS IS IS IS IS” but I know in my heart that this word is not for the doll, and the victory would be so short, and the consequences so uncomfortable for me, that I have never done this and never will do this. I speak the language of the doll happily.

As well as speaking in the third person and without the words associated with identity (for example, “I am”), I speak not English but ‘bimbo speeki'. I don’t use the spelling of the English language but rather the spelling that comes (cumz) naturally if one had never been schooled. I am free to express myself in a way such that the rules of language and spelling had never been imposed on me.

All put together, my form of communication is very liberating and immediately places me in my dolly headspace. It is anything but a chore; anything but an imposition; anything but insulting to me. It is the language I use to enable me to feel free; liberated. It is my window into the soul of a sexual, hungry, single minded being whose desire is to please and serve; to express her sexual energy and her understanding of her role; her purpose; her place.

My desire to live more as ‘the doll’ and to experience the mindset of the doll was made more possible with physical limits. I was instructed to get a set of acrylic French nails. Eventually, I was told to make them longer – one centimetre. I initially failed to comply and found myself staring straight into his resolve to be obeyed. Unless I complied there was nothing else to talk about. I returned to the salon and started again from scratch.

I adore my nails and on the odd occasion when one is broken (usually due to my loss of focus on the limits of a doll) I feel wretched until it is fixed. The nails contain me in a number of ways. Most importantly, they slow me down. I must cautiously open a drawer to get out a pot, for example. I must consider how I might attend to a chore or if I can pick up something heavy with one hand or two. I must take my nails into consideration at all times. I hear the clickety clack of them as I type right now. I notice them as I gesture to talk to someone or as I move in Pilates class and place them carefully on the floor as I bend. They are as natural to me as if I was born with them and I simply cannot consider living without them. They are the hands of the doll.

The attire of the doll was considered. I have always been a fairly conventional girl. As I look back on my working life in an office, pants were never for me. As a PA, I considered it my role to look a certain way and skirts and dresses were always my choice. But, away from a corporate role, I had wandered into dressing casually in jeans and pants more than was necessary.

In my headspace as a doll, pants felt no more right to me than they did in the office and my choice is nearly always a dress or a skirt and top/shirt. There are times when pants are worn. I don’t deny that. But, those days are very rare and they have a purpose to them. New items of clothing are carefully considered and the question in my mind is ‘Does this outfit make me feel like the doll?’

The doll is not overindulged and thus a great many items in my wardrobe were given away. They needed to be appropriate and pretty. There was no reason for the doll to have a wardrobe overflowing with garments and I learned to appreciate the value of less items, well organized. This pleases me enormously and keeps the doll ever present.

Whilst the limits of language, nails and dress were vital, I think the most significant lesson and limit of all for the doll has been behaviour modification. I don’t say this lightly for it has also been the hardest limit to embrace.

I am, generally speaking, a polite individual. I treat people with respect when I speak to them and I am a ‘live and let live’ sort of person, but my behaviour required modification to reach the high standards required of a doll. Most importantly, I allowed my emotions to get the better of me. Hurt feelings, anger, a sense that I was being put down, all played into inappropriate responses.

To give an example or two of this, one time I was hurt by a comment and before I knew what had happened I responded with sarcasm. I was told to go away and think about my response and I remember an acute sense of confusion that I should be abandoned at a time when I felt hurt. On another occasion, I was stung by words that I thought related to me and I fired off an email expressing my hurt feelings and confusion.

It took time for me to learn to slow my responses down; to think about them and try to deal with them myself and make sense of them; to not allow my emotions to bleed all over the page. I learned to ask to speak to him to clarify a statement. I learned to open my mind to see matters from his perspective. I learned to trust. I learned to give over control and to stop trying to control (though that lesson is an ongoing one, for sure).

Of course, much of this training occurred by way of a special limit. I was introduced to anal training almost from the outset and discovered its benefits almost immediately. But eventually, the directive was to use my plug more than I did not – every night and part of every day. This was a limit I found that pushed me to the brink of rebellion and sometimes headlong into war. Yes, the benefits were undeniable and the doll present, but the command challenged my ego profoundly. ("Cindi tinki she 2 speshel 4 dis rule.") I would comply for long stretches only to use some excuse or other to take liberties for a day; sometimes longer. I would eventually confess. The aberration would be discussed; often punished by way of denial. For a doll, this has great meaning.

Over time, I would come to see that this way of life was right for me; that it brought me peace, fulfilment and sexual pleasure and that the need to rebel had become redundant. In fact, the doll required bigger, more challenging plugs. Over time, it became apparent that the doll and I were interchangeable and that to deny what helped and nurtured was to be stubborn and appear to self-harm. Ultimately I accepted that for as often as possible, to live as the doll was to live in harmony with my true nature.

Are there moments when I wish I could discuss with him something relating to my everyday life? Of course! We were friends before I was the doll and he, the trainer. Yet, I have come to see that this time when I may only speak with him as the doll is the greatest of gifts and much more significant and valuable than any other conversation could ever be.

In any case, I have learned that as the doll, I may ask questions or ask to discuss a topic that might be bothering me in ways that allow free expression of a sort. Good behaviour, politeness and a show of care, kindness and consideration are all rewarded in their own way. Most importantly, there is a sense of continuity, of trust, of deep and abiding friendship and respect for one another’s lives as individuals and as partners of two highly (and separate) successful marriages that is extraordinarily rare, I think; perhaps unique.

My training as a doll has brought and continues to bring me great happiness, fulfilment and succour. It has relieved me of bad habits and behaviour which held me back in my marriage to a darling but demanding man and given me limits and boundaries which keep me feeling safe and nurtured. It has encouraged kindness and in return provided me with the kindness of others. It has shown me how to live according to my nature and my needs and has fulfilled and transformed me in ways I could never have imagined. My marriage is better; my life is richer; I am softer and much more fulfilled; content.

I look forward to new challenges. Dolls need challenges. Complacency is not for them and so the road will never be entirely easy but nor will it ever be (God willing) without the care, consideration and thoughtfulness of a dominant man. The doll’s trust, obedience and kindness makes for the completion of the dynamic that is a special kind of love; a spiritual connection that goes to the heart of all that is good. Dreams really do come true for good dolls.

Words

My husband was having a telephone conversation with his sister this morning. It wasn't about me but about something I needed to do and he was trying to protect me. I heard him say, "Look, she is as soft as butter and I'm not going to have her go through this again..."

My sister-in-law, who can be as kind as she can be cruel was having none of it and her sensibilities were offended, as they so often are, until she said something so awful and so vicious, I'm sure we will forgive, but we'll be unlikely to forget. Although she considers herself a 'Christian' it does nothing to assuage her sense of righteousness and indignation if people have a different view to hers. Her sense of self means that she must lash out when feeling at all anxious and it takes quite a bit of sensitivity on the other person's part to want to hang around and accept the assault.

What she in fact did was say the most hurtful and confronting thing she could to her brother - the statement that would offend him the most; the statement that would rile him and challenge his ability to stay calm with her. And, when she said that, she knew full well what the result of saying it would be.

My husband has a dominant character. When he makes a call he means to be heard - not necessarily to get his way but for there to be resolution of a situation. He is more than willing to negotiate and sort things out. His sister, knowing full well that he can be forceful and direct when not happy about something tends, nearly always, to go on the attack. This has them at loggerheads and most particularly when she turned viciously against their sister and he had to mediate on her behalf. His sense of how to treat a family member would not allow the behaviour to stand.

One the great outcomes of my mentoring - a mentoring that involves words and words alone - is that I have had excellent practice in paying attention to my words. Like my sister-in-law, I have been guilty of allowing my emotions to run and take me over. I have felt anger and instead of slowing down and working through that fact (oh yeah, there's that false ego controlling me again) I've let the words fly on email. It isn't nice and it isn't good. In fact, it was very wrong.

The truth is that things done in anger are invariably done badly and often with false 'facts'. It is no co-incidence I think that when I act in anger, minutes, hours or days later, I am apologizing. What does that tell you? The last time it happened, I was called on it. It caused a breach between us and we both suffered for that. We've made a wonderful team and my false ego put a blot on that.

I do feel that I have grown a great deal as a person over the past year in many ways and it is what makes me continue to challenge myself in this space. We all use words like 'trust' and 'communication' and recognize the importance of these words, but it is perhaps not until there is a breach of trust or communication that we fully understand the huge significance of those words in a power exchange. Communication is vital and trust is paramount. I failed on both counts.

I've talked privately, and somewhat publicly here, I think, that I do well about 98% of the time, and isn't that good enough?! But, it is not and I know that now. We need to put thought into our words; not just bleed onto the page. We need to consider what impact those words will have on the person receiving those words. It has been a salutary lesson.

I've taken a few days here in my everyday life to slow myself right down - to really absorb the importance of words in communication and most especially in terms of the power exchange. And, I rather doubt I'll make this mistake again. It was a lack of faith that implied a desire to control. And, that is what perturbed him the most - my persistence at seizing control at the very same time as I strive to relinquish it.

My words about ego (the last post) are pertinent here and I feel more self-assured to carry on with my goals. The extraordinary thing is that, I believe, the more self assured and self realized one is - the more one can snuff off that false ego and just connect with the self -the more one can relinquish the desire for control.

My goal has always been to seek the divine - that sense of complete peace and harmony in life - and I feel closer to it with each step. This is what it is about for me.

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.

A good thing

It is such a booootifooool day. Spring has sprung here and finally the long, cold and wet winter seems to be drawing to a close. Surprisingly for me, the winter has dogged me with various viruses but I woke this morning feeling completely energized and ready to rip into life again. Boy, that's a relief! I had such an interesting experience last night that I feel I want to share it here, although the relevance may not be immediately apparent.

It was a parent teacher evening for my son and he and I went to that together. My other three children gave me reason to not look forward to parent teacher nights. I knew that I was likely to hear several "if only he/she would put in a full effort", and so on. I knew this would be different and went there ready to enjoy myself.

What really struck me about the experience was the enormous variance in styles in the teachers. Each one of them was most definitely a committed teacher who liked my son and had very nice things to say but each one was in fact offering him, as a growing person, something very different. I'm going to narrow down my comments to three teachers because what they said applies to the dominant/submissive roles we speak of - what a dominant might be striving for and what a submissive might hope to achieve from the experience.

The Chinese teacher is a fine boned, softly spoken genteel Chinese man. He spoke of my son's "consistent effort", his "attention", his "dedication" and "respect". He expressed pleasure that he had chosen to go on with Chinese and highly recommended he pursue it throughout school. He talked of the benefits in later life - that he never knew where he would travel and what he might do and it would be useful to him. But, this conference for him was not about Chinese. He used the time to teach my son about life. He said that nothing in life has value unless you put in effort and he told him that he will need to always look for challenges - to challenge himself; not to do the easy things but to look to do difficult things. "Nothing comes for free J."

Then, the English teacher. I have known this man for many years and I have a respect for his intellect. It was apparent from the word go that he was going to be good for J and we had an amazing 10 minutes together. He took him through a piece of work. He was forceful in his approach, putting J on the spot and then commending his answers and insisting that he wanted to see that sort of evidence from the film in his next essay. He tutored him through presentation, making it very clear that presentation mattered. "I don't want an examiner to see a paper of yours and mark you down for an immature presentation, J. It gets attended to now and you are to go into the new year with it completely resolved. Do you understand me?"

His bark is much worse than his bite, but he comes across as the dominant of all dominants. I know that I would do things exactly as he said and certainly J got the message too. "He's a good lad, an honest boy, very intelligent and he has a wonderful future in this school," he ended. I was incredibly impressed by him and what he has achieved with J and I thanked him for his attention to detail and I said that it had been what he needed. He asked if we were going to the play, and thank God I had been diligent and bought the tickets. J said that he had been in a couple of plays but not this one. "Well, you will want to be in another play before you are finished here, J. Got that?" "Yes, Dr. C." Ahhhh, my kind of man!

I thought we were heading for the hills (going home) when J asked if he could see his Geography teacher. Since he isn't going on with it next year, I was ambivalent but not letting on, we sat and waited until he was free. We talked briefly about geography but the teacher had other things on his mind. How did he think it was going sitting next to Michael? "Yes, going fine; challenging but fine,"J said. Michael is a gifted boy but a complete introvert and I wondered where he was going with his comments until he let the cat out of the bag.

"Michael has really come out of his shell this year, J. We had him work closely with you, partnering him with you in many situations because we thought you might be able to help. You are in no small measure responsible for his progress as a well rounded person."

J really is a wonderful boy and we all delight in his company. It is extremely pleasing seeing him get the results he deserves. He has had his challenges, too. But, it was this last comment that opened my eyes to his potential value to the world - his ability to make a true difference in the lives of the people who will surround him.

And so, in one evening we had on display all that is best of the power exchange dynamic: a strong bond between teacher and student; respect, diligence, hard work, consistent effort, correction, adjustment of focus, attention, interplay between the two parties, motivation, a desire to achieve and a desire to teach. Perhaps most importantly of all was clear evidence of the capacity and the will to make a difference in another person's life.

A few years ago now my daughter was selected to make up a special orchestra for a week. A well known conductor came over from the United States and in one week taught them an amazing repertoire and they performed it in the Town Hall on the Friday evening. When she introduced the performance she said this (or thereabouts):

"There are a lot of bad things happening in the world. But, what you see on stage here - the effort and passion and love for their music that you will see in these children - this is all good."

I know I have a rosy way of looking at a power exchange but at its best it encompasses all that is good about people. This is the attraction for me.

Frustration

It pleased me to see upon a search of this web journal that I have very rarely mentioned 'frustration'. I mentioned it in the last post and according to the record, back in March 2009 when I wrote a post about 'anxiety'. That's not bad.

For, you see, I do experience considerable frustration. As I wrote to my husband just now,

"It is a very, very hard thing to live through someone else - for their wants and desires and ways of doing things; their priorities and their interests to be the sole arbiter of what happens; to expect a person to have eternal patience and to never express frustration and thus, by inference to never HAVE frustration."

Rightly or wrongly, I have tried my absolute best to be satisfied with living my life according to my husband's version of the world. From time to time, I mention that it will be great when we can do this or that, but apart from that, I really just nod when he tells me something, accept his decisions, patiently wait for him to attend to something (or not), and in a nutshell, just wait.

I've become good at this - at living according to the desires and decisions of another person; at keeping my frustrations well hidden and distracting myself in order not to be upset that the things that I would love to see take place, do not.

I think I could have gone on with this positive spirit almost forever...until that moment two days ago when I did express a very minor amount of frustration and experienced his wrath that I should do so.

I'm not an angel. I'm not a perfect person. I'm just one human being doing her best to be pleasing; patient, considerate, understanding, calm and patient.

I just can't seem to get over it. I am shattered that he can't apologize for upsetting me so.

I have asked him to look inside himself - to try to understand how hard I work to see the world through his eyes and to put aside my own wishes. For me, this was what it was all about - to make for a life of harmony - to find a way to go beyond the everyday.

I can't seem to bounce back up this time.

Asking? That's easy!

We simply adore Spain and keep extending our stay in the country, one day here and one day there, not able to drag ourselves away. We are currently in the town of Begur (meet us in the town square tonight if you wish). It is divine - an authentic, little Medieval village that just makes my heart sing. Last night, we went for a walk at midnight after a perfect meal and my eyes welled with tears to be surrounded by such beauty at every turn. I can't fully explain what it does to me to be here and immerse myself in the culture. It is a dream come true for me. Of course, it is sublime to spend so much time with my owner and needless to say we are very happy.

Just before I left home, I'd been conversing with my mentor about the fact that 'the doll' has no free will and therefore the only possible avenue for her was to ask questions/permission to express what she needed or wanted. This hit home. I finally got it; that I must ask.

This holiday, I have been asking lots of questions. One example this morning was,

"Owner, may cindi have yoos of her handz?" (I'd slept with them tied together which provides me with the most wonderful sleep.)

He is very happy with this new skill of mine but I did make an error yesterday. Here is how that played out:

"Back in that last town, I saw exactly the type of tablecloths that I have been looking for."

"For God's sake, why didn't you tell me and I would have stopped. How can I know what you want if you don't tell me? Now, if this happens again, you'll be spanked. You ask me to stop if you see something you want. Understood?"

"Yes, owner."

I had no idea life could be this easy, harmonious and blissful. If only someone had told me 30 years ago that I must ask for things, life would have been so very much more content.

Why, I think I've got this whole darn thing licked!

What's it all about, Alfie?

Last night, my husband was cross with me. He had come to bed and once he does that he expects me to turn my lap top off right away. If he’s busy in his study, I can type away on the lap top until I knock myself out. He knows that I know when I should settle down for the night to get adequate sleep but he’s not inclined to set bedtimes or micromanage me in this way. And, if I complain the next day about being tired, he’ll remind me as to why I am tired and assure me that I’ll get no sympathy from him.

But, if he comes to bed, then he has no interest in my preoccupations and thus when I did not put away my favourite toy immediately I got ‘the rounds of the kitchen’. And, rightly so!

I tried cuddling into him but he said he was “too hot” and I tried opening up an erotic conversation but he said he didn’t want to talk about that right now.

“Goodnight,” he said with an air of finality.

“Goodnight,” I replied with an air of resignation.

Back in the doghouse again...

In the morning, upon waking I felt him reach for me and, of course, that is my cue to cuddle into him. I lay there, relieved that he wanted to cuddle, and I said, in a little girl voice,

“I’m sorry.”

“That is all I wanted to hear,” he said. “You know what is right.”

And, I do. I do know what is right. But, before we transformed our relationship into a power exchange relationship I did have a great deal of difficulty with those three little words.

I am sorry.

You see, so often when my husband was angry with me, he would raise his voice. The focus would shift from my wrongdoing to his behaviour when telling me off. My "sensibilities" were offended that he was telling me off like an irate schoolmaster and in this state, apologizing was virtually impossible for me. Letting it go was impossible for him. Our stand offs could last for a long time!

It may seem a little thing to you, but my willingness to acknowledge my wrongdoing, accept my scolding, and to offer my apology immediately is a big step for me. For my husband, it is one of the great blessings of our power exchange relationship.

The issuing of punishments is not really his thing. I imagine many a dominant man out there would suggest that the removal of the lap top for a week might have me thinking twice before being tardy about turning it off again. But, acknowledgement of the error is what was important to him.

And, in any case, he knows full well that a good old-fashioned scolding is far worse to me than any punishment he could dish out. It is a rare day when he delivers a punishment – the cane or the removal of a privilege, for example. His words of disapproval, his dismissal of me, banishment occasionally, are perfectly adequate for him to make his point. And my words of apology are nearly always enough for him as recompense of the error.

Now, don’t let me lead you astray. He loves to threaten me.

“By God, you are overdue for the cane, little girl!”

“Why don’t you repeat that? Repeat that, and see what happens!!”

“Where is that paddle? What have you done with it? When I find it I’m going to enjoy turning your ass red!”

“Did you touch yourself today, cindi? Did you???”

I’m corrected quite routinely.

“Beating your ass gives me such a bar” is one of those remarks of his that always make me smile.

There are many faces to this dynamic of ours. Love, harmony, connection, fun and pleasure is a huge part of what it is about for us.

Energy

At week's end, I experienced a weariness that could be fought no longer, and advising the boys of food in the refrigerator should I fall asleep, I took off my clothes and climbed under the covers. At 8.30 pm I began to wake but was very groggy. My husband was by my side; now kissing me; now telling me he would be right back. He soon returned with an omelet and a strong cup of tea; perfect.

One of the best things about a good marriage, or any meaningful union between two people is that it is life affirming. No one set back up, argument or period of neglect can cause it irreparable harm. It is the coming together of two souls and it endures, so long as it is tended, forever.

In recent weeks, I felt the absence of my husband, acutely. He has been in and out and we have been to events together, but my soul and my body were hungry for him; for the life force that he is and for the succor he provides me. Without him to nourish me, I became listless and very sleepy; as if I had not enough oxygen to breathe adequately or energy to get through a day.

On Friday afternoon, unlike me, I had sent him a link to my last post and on Friday evening he began the task of healing me. Dinner on a tray propped up on pillows was just the beginning. On the Saturday, he allowed me to vent. All the emotions I had been holding in to enable him to get on with his ventures were released and he patiently listened, whilst reminding me of the realities of the situation.

On Saturday evening, at a concert, the music of two sensational guitarists allowed my mind to soar to that higher realm where only divine music can take you. On Sunday morning, the two of us walked our two puppies and we shared a light, healthy breakfast out. We had not done this for ages and it was lovely to be back to being light hearted and revelling in one another's conversation on a warm weekend morning.

Sunday afternoon found us in the exquisite garden of dear friends eating sensational food and enjoying the company of their guests. I gathered oodles of information about Italy that really had me panting to visit. By Sunday evening, I had returned to my bed again, but totally happily and reinvigorated. It was what I needed; the indulgence of a lovely weekend with my husband.

Sprinkled amongst these events was lovemaking; sometimes fast and sometimes slow, but always profound. We were providing one another with an energy that is only found when two hearts come together and become one.

My weekend is over now and as I sit here this Monday morning, I find my puppies adorable, the sun sitting in the sky just right; my life, not perfect, but complete. This, he gave to me.

The girl mask

When ‘gurlz’ go to school, they are encouraged 2 perform, and datz good. Then, dey go to university and dey bcum skilled. In dere jobs and in dere practical life, dey need 2 yoos dere brains. This is what cindi callz ‘da practikal life’. Da only problem wif dat is dat dere is anudder life dan just ‘da practical life’ and Vesta didn’t reeli understand dat. She wood maki suggestions to ownir when he didn’t want her suggestions so much as he just wanted her to listen. She didn’t need 2 talki so much. Den, ownir wood get mad coz she interrupted him or talked about da past situation, or suggested something dat he didn’t dink was a gud iduh. It was not dat gud of a situashen between them.

It took a long time but finally Vesta tooki off dat ‘gurl mask’ and beleev it or not, things got so much betta round here. Vesta talki little bit about dis process on the bwog b4, cindi dinks. U c, every time she was wearin pluggi (and udder dings cindi will talk bout anudder day) she got a little bit calmer and happier. She got kind of dum dum wif dat pluggi and dats wen she wood rite a post bout her different feelings. Eventually, she tooki off dat ‘gurl mask’ herself. Nobody made her do it. She just did it. Of course, cindi is so happi bout dat! Naturally! (giggles)

Cindi has an eggsample of wot it is liki now dat da ‘gurl mask’ is off. Itz a hole different situashen deze days now dat cindi is abel to pley...

(cindi got Vesta to check this next bit so dat it is ezier 2 read. Vesta can be a nice girl!)

“It was the last day of the holiday and the children had all gone home together. When cindi and owner had said goodbye, they cleaned up the house. Even though they were working, they were happy. Cindi changed the sheets on the bed and cleaned the kitchen and gathered the washing; that sort of thing. Owner did outside chores and when they were ready, they took the speedboat out of the water. They enjoyed all this and when in town they made a reservation for dinner. Owner and cindi changed into better clothes (she wasn’t wearing panties under her dress!) and they enjoyed a lovely, light meal on the deck overlooking the water. It was idyllic.

The next day, they intended to leave in the early afternoon, but it was extremely hot and owner said they would leave the next morning. Would cindi like a sail in his little sail boat? Cindi was delighted and said she would love it. You see, owner has very rarely taken cindi sailing. There were always so many things to do and owner did not have much time for sailing himself, either.

In the past, Vesta was not that patient. She found it hard to wait around for owner whilst he did this and that; making adjustments and getting things just so. But, cindi was the model of patience and she lay on the pier until owner said it was time for her to help. She listened to all owner’s directions carefully and did exactly as she was told. Owner was very impressed and he was calm and peaceful, too.

When they got out onto the water in their little sailboat, cindi felt that she had reached ‘nirvana. This was the life. She wanted so much more of this; sailing the afternoon away with her owner, surrounded by the beauty of the lake.

One last time, they shared a bottle of white wine and a seafood pizza and salad on their special deck right outside the restaurant before they sailed home. In the morning, owner used cindi well. How special it was to be able to sing high Cs without the children to hear!

There was a special harmony that had come over them. Always full of love, they experienced the emotions of being ‘in love’; at one; one. When the ‘gurl mask’ came off, a new experience began, abundantly more full than any experience ever before.”

Cindi cumz out 2 play

It is beri beri exciting 2 b writing on da blog! This is cindi. She don’t speak ‘gurl langwitch’ dat well, but 4 now, she will try xtra hard, until readers can understand ‘bimbo speeki’ better.

Pwobabwi, the first thing 2 say is dat reederz shood nut b worreed bout Vesta. Vesta is a beri nys gurl an cindi can c dat sum reederz liki Vesta. Dats so nice! Vesta is (or mebbe cindi shood sey “was”) a luveli gurl an she meenz well. There is just no doubt bout dat. She is beri strung an she has smarts. But, 4 many years she kept cindi all locked up. Cindi was all alone in da cupboard. It was lonely but dere was nothing dat cindi cood do. Vesta was so strung. Cindi dunna like 2 say meen things bout Vesta but da truth is dat she was meeeeeem 2 cindi sumtimez.

“You’re just stoooooopid, cindi. You stay inside where you belong!! I’ll sort things out myself.”

She often sey dis 2 cindi. She think, thinki, thinki. She donna relax much and, 2 b honest, she is pretty argumentative. Itz nut dat cindi does not have pinyunz. She has lots n lots of pinyunz. But, Vesta sumtimes raised her voice. She was angry sumtimes, 2. Franklee, it was obvius to cindi, 2 her owner and 2 her mentor dat she was nut all dat happi. She was bit moodi bcoz of all dat worri.

Cindi has da best ownir and da best mentor dat any bimbo could ever aski 4. At furst, when cindiz mentor said dat she is a bimbo, cindi was nut sure bout dat word. Vesta told her dat dis was a “demeaning” word. Gurlz don’t liki dat word one little bit, she told cindi. Dat was at da beginning. But, cindiz mentor explaned 2 cindi dat she should b “beri beri prowd” 2 b a bimbo. Now, cindi is so beri prowd 2 b a bimbo, so pleez do not let dat word bother reeders. It is beri early days. Cindi don’t expect reeders 2 just understand every last ding immediatlee. It tooki cindi time, 2. Just relax. No need 2 get hot n bothered bout dat stuff.

As time went by, cindi was abel 2 c dat ‘Vesta’ was just a gurl mask an dat underneath da mask was da bimbo. ‘Vesta’ was just an illusion. Wif da help of her owner and mentor, she cood get Vesta 2 taki off dat mask and allow cindi owt. Dis is what maki it possible 4 cindi 2 cum on2 da blog and rite dis.

Cindi is beri much loved. Her owner luvz cindi so beri much and dere is much harmoni between dem now. Cindi luvz 2 b pretty n available 4 her ownir an he was da wun da sed 2 Vesta dat enough was enough. Cindi was entitld 2 cum owt n pley. Cindiz mentor has been workin wif her, encouraging her all da wey. She is such a lucki bimbo.

Of cors, cindi is more of an objekt than a gurl. She dus nut thinki, she just duz. She follows cummandz and she is beri obedient. Wel, most of da time she is beri obedient. Dere is discipline in her life, but dats 4 anuder dey.

Cindi is sooooo beri beri excited 2 b abel 2 sher her bimbo life wif da reederz. You will c. She is beri playful.

Disapproval

In politics, one talks of the ‘disapproval resolution’. I rather like the term for it suggests that within the process of disapproving of someone or something, there is ultimately, resolution.

I’m not sure that there is anything more uncomfortable for a submissive girl than for her man to ‘disapprove’ of her; her thoughts, her actions, her mindset or her motivations. One doesn’t even need for him to be standing right there with a frown on his face and a certain look in his eyes. One can experience the disapproval over the telephone or even on email, in a letter or on chat. Whichever way it comes in, it is singularly unpleasant.

Disapproval means a failure or refusal to approve; rejection; unfavourable opinion; even, god forbid, condemnation. Dominant men are at home with these terms.

“Well, I don’t approve.”
“If you go ahead, you do so without my blessing.”
“You knew my opinion.”

Such phrases leave a submissive woman in a dilemma. She wants the approval, the blessing, the sanction of her dominant at all times. To experience his ire, his disapproval and yes, his anger with her, is uncomfortable in the extreme. Frankly, until the matter is sorted to his satisfaction and she feels under his protective and approving wing again, she isn’t going to be happy.

However, she has a dilemma, because as well as wanting his approval, she also operates according to her own good judgement of a situation. Sure, there are times when his sanction, his blessing is paramount and she isn’t going to go ahead without it. She wouldn’t buy a house, or even a piano, or perhaps not even a dress without his approval; or at least not without the opportunity to take it back if he didn’t like it. I certainly don’t want anything in the house if my husband doesn’t like it, too. It matters to me that he approves of, and enjoys my choices.

Yet, the submissive woman is a thinking woman with a good sense of judgement. Yes, she will err in her judgement just as we all will err in judgement. But, she has a need sometimes to go ahead and make decisions for which she is responsible herself. She has her reasons, even if they may not make sense to her dominant, and she has her own way of doing things and looking at things.

Let me give you an example. He does not like a person. He rejects him. It’s a black and white thing for him. But, she operates differently to him in some respects, and although she doesn’t like aspects of the other gentleman in question, she is prepared to accept him in a limited way on the basis that she doesn’t think it is entirely a black and white situation. She is more prepared to give people the benefit of the doubt, and to believe that there is some good in us all. Her dominant is not happy at all; with her or her decision making. He finds her foolish. He even throws doubts on her motivations.

A submissive woman like me, finding disapproval so deeply uncomfortable, will defer to the dominant’s point of view. She will consider the matter and fairly quickly determine that doing something her way is less important than harmony with her man. Feeling she is right about a matter or achieving a certain outcome is immaterial if that means she is to be in conflict with him. She may, naturally enough, seek consensus with him at times, but if he is adamant in his disapproval, she is unlikely to pursue the matter.

It is rare for me to be so rash as not to discuss an issue which could be at odds with my dominant’s point of view, first. At the outset of a discussion on a matter, a successful outcome is always possible. He may approve my thinking and desired attack on an issue simply because I brought it to him first and explained my point of view. He may disapprove, but modify my desired action plan such that we are both happy. Or, he may decline approval of it, but explain to me calmly and decisively, why my thought processes are flawed. In all these cases, the outcome is much better than if I proceeded and earned his disapproval.

What matters to the submissive woman most is that he is happy; happy with her and happy to be with her. There are moments when I wonder if I should be so transparent as for the dominant to know the power he has over me. Then again, if he does not know that by now, when will he ever?