Macro and micro decisions

The big, wide world doesn't factor into my writing in this web journal hardly at all. However, it is nearly impossible to ignore the world stage at this time which seems to be in more flux than ever (which isn't true, of course, but it can seem that way when big changes happen overnight). England has left the EU and that has caused great disruption on the world stage. As well, there's an unabating movement of people around the world now, something that was necessary for the safety of hundreds of thousands of people. Sovereignty is a thought in people's minds. Even here in Australia, well removed from centre stage, it might well be the case that England's removal from the EU may mean that we will become a Republic sooner than later. The American elections are also a worry. Did we ever think that a candidate for President would ever make such hateful comments?

At school, I loved my history. In my final year of school I studied the French Revolution. It seemed obvious to me that if you ignored the needs of enough of the people for enough time, they'd revolt. In my US days I remember hearing a dinner guest expound a similar, rather commonsense theory really, that you should always take care of the people lest they get angry and turn their anger on you. If no other reason stirs you, then there's the case of self-interest.

We're all people, made of the same flesh and blood, but in a democratic system, some people are going to accrue a lot more than others, and achieve a lot more than others. It is the way it is, the way it has always been and will always be.  But, we all deserve to be free, safe and to pursue happiness. The Founding Fathers of America did a great service in expressing these ideals.

It is why we hold a former Prime Minister of my country in great esteem, Gough Whitlam, because he made higher education free. I'm a 'baby boomer', a product of that free education, and so are thousands of people like me. We're also very attached to the notion of 'Medicare' here; that all Australians have medical coverage via a small levy on our income. This provides Australians with a level of respect; that they all count.

Recently, in the midst of all this changing of the deck chairs on the world stage, I was in Tasmania. You can't get much further away than that, unless you want to go to Antarctica. It's such a beautiful place, a time warp too, and it did go through my mind, as it always does when I am there, that it would be a lovely place to have a cottage.

As I walked along I found myself wondering why I wanted that. Well, it would be a simple, little life in a cottage in Hobart; space, lots of walking, close to the country; fresh air, cooler summers; access to plentiful fresh food and being surrounded by fairly chilled out people. It would be safe and there would be enough culture and people engaged in creative pursuits that I wouldn't feel alone, and in fact would have plenty of people around me that I'd enjoy.

Employment wouldn't be so easy, but my cost of living would be low, and maybe I could get busy and write something that might make me a little money. Anyway, the selling of assets here would give me enough to live on. I've devoted my life to family, not a career, and that was a choice. Money initially was, but is no longer, my thing. I'm more than aware that to bring up and educate a large family you need to focus on money for a lengthy period of time.

Right now, I'm influenced by having read 'Tuesdays with Morrie' by Mitch Albom. I finished it on the plane coming home and was in tears. It's such a sad but heartwarming story. Morrie, a professor at an American college for over 30 years is dying of Lou Gehrig's disease and his old student Mitch comes to learn about life from his professor once again. He visits him regularly, on Tuesdays.

Morrie always encouraged his students to create their own culture, to reject what it was about culture that doesn't work, or doesn't work for them. He lived humbly, but he was surrounded by the books that he loved, by the family he loved and who loved him. He'd developed a faith that took account of the philosophers. He encouraged Mitch to go to the heart of all his emotions, good and bad, but then to let the emotions go. He accepted his fate, but he refused to stop living until he took his last breath.

Born into poverty in the Bronx, but blessed with a step-mother who told him that education was the way out of poverty (yes!), he worked hard and made a good life for himself and his family. He encouraged Mitch to put love first, ("love or perish") and to be involved in his community. He imparted a common sense approach to a good life. It's a quick read, but it is one of the most important reads of my life.

I was living in the US in the early 80s when Donald Trump came to my attention. I remember Ivana Trump telling a reporter that first you make the money, and then you work on attaining power. I tucked her comment behind my ear and wasn't surprised when Donald chose to run for President of the United States decades later. I can only imagine that many people in the US feel disenfranchised; disenfranchised enough in a changing world that they think he, rather than your mainstream politician, has the answers for them.

Realistically, I doubt you can turn back the clock on an era where the world is more fluid in every way. I doubt that there is any one person capable of doing this. The strictures that were in society - sexual, gender, class, race - are all being broken down over many years. Change is afoot and this can evoke fear. Trump works with 'fear'. This fact alone concerns me.

I think that for many of us change is a very scary thing, but if you take the long term view, the world has always been changing, often very slowly and imperceptibly moving towards big changes. I think we'd do well to be less anxious; to see what is common amongst us rather than focus on what is different. I think we'd do well to take a breath and settle down.

A few afternoons ago, I was driving in traffic and stopped behind a tram who was letting passengers off. A parked car beside me started tooting his horn, which seemed odd, but I assumed he wanted to join the traffic (it was dark and I couldn't make out the driver) and so as soon as I had a chance I moved forward and to the side of the tram. That is, I made way for him to enter the traffic. Unfortunately, the car behind me decided he wasn't going to co-operate and I heard a loud bang and saw in my rear vision mirror that they had collided and were now holding up all the traffic behind them.

For what good purpose did that accident happen? Was it so much of an issue to allow the man out into the traffic? Would it have taken up a split second of the time of the driver behind me? Not at all. Morrie encouraged Mitch to let drivers in; that when they honked their horn angrily to simply raise his hand and wave. I do that. I wave my thanks when given a break in traffic and hope I spread the joy. As philosophies go, even political philosophies, you could do worse than aim to spread joy; to show some heart. There's an idea.

(P.S. Having published the above, I just so happened to read this. You won't spend five minutes better.)

Praise

I try to imagine what life would be like for me if my husband were the type of 'Owner' where he wanted complete control of me. In some ways, he has complete control, but in other ways he does not, because he doesn't desire control in those areas.

I think I'm the type of woman that probably would do best if my man did want more control of me. I'm not saying that it would be easy or immediate. I remember myelf as a woman in my twenties - that time when you can probably most mould a person to be what you want them to be, before they develop too many opinions of the world and themselves - having opinions and feeling that I had a right to an equal say.

I learned, particularly through my role at work as a Personal Assistant to a Managing Director, that there was a dynamic at hand and that I was the one to defer. The deferment didn't necessarily come entirely easily or even naturally. For example, at that time my intellect was shooting higher. Quite honestly, I was capable of doing more than I was doing and on a few occasions I requested transferal to a different job. On one occasion I suggested being transferred to the Training Division. I did, after all, have a qualification in teaching high school, so why not put that knowledge and skill into effect?

My boss simply couldn't understand my thinking. Why would I want to limit myself in this way when I could be a part of every last strategic decision made by the organisation? Naturally enough, I reminded him that I didn't make those decisions and had no effect on those decisions in any way. To the contrary, he insisted, he may not have acknowledged too many of my suggestions, but he had in fact listened and a number of those decisions had been taken up.

One day, when he was safely ensconced on an overseas holiday, Dan the advertising man came to me and asked if I would be in an advertising campaign. It sounded like fun and off we went to shoot the photographs. (I didn't advise the boss of this because I had a feeling he'd put the kabosh on the idea.) I was quite pumped about it until he arrived home and berated Dan about taking me out of his office. I took it very personally, though I never let on, and felt that he felt that I wasn't good enough. I came to realize over time that I wasn't going anywhere in that organization. He had the Personal Assistant he wanted; had trained her to suit his purposes and disposition, and he wasn't losing her to some training division or advertising studio.

If you've been reading for years, God help you, you'd know that he wanted control over me and that included my style of clothing, whether I bought something new or not (he wasn't into excess and if he caught me in stores around town at lunchtime when he was returning from a luncheon, he'd let me know about it), and my weight. When I joined his employ I was straight out of two years in the USA and I'd put on a little weight eating one or two too many hamburgers and fries, I suspect. He wasn't (completely) rude about it but he made it clear that the 10 pounds had to go, and they did. It wasn't so much a huge change in diet that did the trick. I was simply using up a lot of energy making sure he was satisfied and that I wasn't going to get another 'rounds of the kitchen'.

He also made it clear that I needed to eat more vegetables and to be sure that I did he'd often drop a box of vegetables from his garden in the country on my front door on a Sunday evening. He thought it senseless that women eat their way into a middle age spread and he loathed women eating in public on the streets. I can still feel the guilt in my throat when he spotted me one day in the street returning to the office at the end of the lunch hour eating an apple. 'But it was just an apple,' I argued. He was unconvinced.

I remember one day expressing my discontent about something in a way that wasn't entirely diplomatic. 'Don't you show your temper to me!' he stated. As a woman living through the stirrings of female liberation, he challenged me to the core. But, he did teach me many things: about men who insisted on control; about diplomacy; loyalty. It was the first stirrings and experiences getting to know my nature. If he was happy with my work, or my decision making on his behalf, or taking action to watch his back, he praised me and I cherished that. I bathed in the glow of his pride and perhaps it is this feeling that has stayed with me.

It may be interesting to know that I don't say much, nothing really, when I receive these warm feelings of having 'done good'. You'd have to look to my expression; the mellowness that is probably evident in my eyes that drop down that may suggest that I am a tad embarrassed, and the slight but unmistakable smile that widens my lips. On the page, you will need to trust me that I am most content.

A man who wanted total control of me would indeed need to train and condition me to his ways. It's only late in my life that I have wanted, myself, piercings or to wear latex. That is when I was introduced to those ideas. At first blush, I'd be most reluctant, I'm sure. But, I know in my heart that if he wanted that and made it clear that he wanted that, and it would strengthen the dynamic we shared, I'd follow along. I'm so very much into wanting a tight, strong, intense relationship that his desire for something in particular is all that would be needed. When I feel the energy coming forth, I meet that energy with abundant energy of my own. I respond to the dominance with a very natural and enjoyed submission.

In all the years that we've been together, my husband has very rarely not liked a piece of clothing I have bought, or at least he hasn't expressed that. But, one day he told me that he didn't like a pair of pants I had bought. They were pink vertical stripes. I thought they looked quite all right for weekends but he made it clear he didn't care for them. Out they went without a glace backwards.

I've an electric toothbrush. On occasion I forget to dry the base before I put it back on the base and he simply hates that, as he hates it when I don't dry my back completely, or when I make a big mess in the kitchen rather than clean up as I go. There are no consequences for these things other than 'getting it in the neck' as I like to put it, or in other words, getting told off. Maybe I'm not so much doing things the way he likes them to please him as I am doing it to avoid another telling off, but the point is, I do do it his way. Is that conditioning? Is it a natural drive to please? I wonder, if he praised me for a clean kitchen just before I served dinner once in a while, might that not be the biggest incentive of all to do things his way?

Truthfully, if I had an 'Owner' that wanted my nipples pierced, as an example, of course I'd oblige. The praise that this agreement would engender would be adequate compensation for overcoming my fear. Anyways, we'd be together. He'd lead me there so it wouldn't be that hard at all.

My husband wants, and will want going forward, to live in this big house. So, we live in this big house. We will live in this big house long after all the children have moved out. My husband wants us to do the garden ourselves, even the removal of huge tree trumps and so it is done this way, with me as the second gardener, of course. Just now I asked if I may use the ladder to do an outside task and he said 'no'. There are many tasks I'm not allowed to do because he wants control of them and isn't sure that they'll be done to his specification (which isn't at all true since I am perfectly capable of this task really). Still, I have to live with that.

Sure, I make suggestions and sometimes they are taken up. Often, they are not. We live according to his decisions. If he wanted me to live in latex for hours each week, needless to say, I'd be living in latex for hours every week. Why not, for heavens sake? It's become a dream of mine anyway, so why would I hesitate? If he bought it and demanded it, what a THRILL would that be!

Yes, at times it is hard buckling under to his version of the world, but kinky demands? And, I do mean demands. Insistence. These days? Well, I think that would be about as hard as eating New York baked cheesecake.

Following along

Holidaying in a foreign country gave my husband and I the opportunity to immerse ourselves in a bubble of bliss. We very quickly and painlessly established a comfortable dynamic whereby he instigated a plan and I followed along with that plan.

The decision to go to Japan was a joint decision. I asked if he might like an adventure, to explore Japan, and he quickly indicated he would like that. We discussed parts of Japan we'd like to get to know better and then I made the arrangements. Once there, he did the reading about that locale and determined where we would go and what we would do. This enabled me to have the experience of being led through the day and I thrived on this arrangement.

There were three small experiences where this arrangement was put to the test and the rules laid down emphatically. In the first experience we were at a Buddhist garden just outside the Bamboo Forest of Kyoto when I lost track of my husband. He was there one minute and gone the next. In a 'bimbo' mindset practically all the time on this holiday - a huge blast for me - I got it into my head that he had popped into the toilet that was close by, so I did too, only to find on emerging that he still wasn't visible. I moved on in an effort to catch up, which, of course, was the mistake. In fact, the garden was bigger than I anticipated and instead of making my way back to the Entry gate where I thought he'd go, I found myself at the Exit gate. I then decided to make my way around the garden again until I reached the point where we had started but time was going by and anxiety was building.

I spotted him by the big pond eventually, exactly where I had lost sight of him, and seeing that he was mad with me, made the next mistake of trying to explain what I was trying to achieve, instead of expressing my apology for the whole episode. I was meant to stay close, and if lost, to stay still. Very simple.

I did express my regret, of course, but not fast enough or with adequate expression of a sense of sorrow at the disruption to the day. A 'telling off' ensued. After several minutes where he chose to walk faster than me, me tagging along at a suitable distance, I asked if I could hold his hand.

'Not yet,' he said.

More expressions of regret were made on my part. We reached another place he had planned to visit. The Japanese lady came and got us when we began to embark on a tour of the garden without having our tea first (rules are rules in the Japanese mindset), and it was over tea that the ice was broken such that when I pointed out a beautiful book of the garden, he bought it for me.

The experience of losing sight of him, and his upset about it all, had me keeping extra close to him from there on. I stuck like glue to him in fact until at least a week later when I lost sight of him at 'The Great Buddha' in Nara. There was a relatively light crowd when we arrived and we were hanging out at the entrance, entranced at the scale of the statue. I walked three steps towards an example of the gold etching on the statue, when a mob of people on various tours arrived together. My husband walked straight past me without realizing it and for a good ten minutes I stood at that spot awaiting his return.

I wasn't concerned about being in trouble. I was just concerned full stop. My commonsense told me that we'd meet up in just a minute or two, but I could feel my body's response at the anxiety of being separated and all I wanted was his presence. When he returned to me, he was only mildly cross, but  somehow over the course of the holiday I'd become deeply attached to him and didn't like at all that something could have happened to him.

In the third experience, we had just exited a subway car in downtown Tokyo when he said to me, 'I had to turn around to make sure you had followed me off the train'. I replied, 'I'm watching you and you're watching me'.  It prompted him to say, 'If that had happened and you were still on the train, I'd make my way back to the hotel and wait for you.' I nodded, but something about my response registered a query in his mind.

'You've got money, right?'
'Not a note. Not a coin,' I replied.
'You mean, you haven't ever had money on the trip?'
'Nope'
'But, why didn't you ask for money?'
'Because I didn't want money. I've loved not having money.'

He looked at me, as if the reality of his wife's mindset had quite suddenly fully registered in his brain.

'You really do want an Owner, don't you? You really want me to make the decisions.'
'I do.'

He wanted to know if I had touched a note at all.

'Do you remember when I asked if I may have the notebook at the monk's stall in Koyasan, and if he could write the message of the Healing Buddha in it? The note book was 1400 yen and the message 400 yen, and you handed me a 2000 yen note to buy it? Well, that was the one time I handled a note and I remember the feeling in my hand, this note of currency, this real world, big girl note. But, as I handed it over and told the monk what I wanted, I felt very small indeed, more like a very little girl. He put in my hand a 200 yen coin as my change, and I handed it back to you. Do you remember?'

'I do remember. I remember thinking it an odd thing to do. I remember wondering why you didn't put the coin in your purse.'

'Because I didn't want one single coin in my purse. I wanted to stay in my bubble of bliss, completely reliant on you.'

The next day we visited Roppongi Hills, nowadays an upmarket part of Tokyo where the smart set hang out and purchase exquisite goods.

'Is there something that cindi would like? (He always called me 'cindi' on this holiday and I so appreciated that.) cindi should point it out to Owner if she sees something...perhaps a cocktail ring, or something else?'

But, honestly, I had what I wanted. The opportunity to melt into this dynamic with him was all I wanted, save for a few inexpensive souvenirs of these wonderful three weeks together; a little bowl or plate here and there was more than enough for cindi.

Often, he'd consult me on a purchase, but my response was nearly always the same, 'It is up to you.' One time he said to me, 'You can have  input. If you don't tell me what you are thinking, then you have to accept my decision.' I took the point, but the overarching point was that 'bimbo' was more than happy to accept his decisions. This is when bimbo is the most present and the most content, being her (it) self.

We're home now. We talked about keeping the happiness going, but he quite rightly pointed out that reality was likely to pull us back into the real world of business and endeavor at times. Perhaps, I suggested, we could go together to see a film on 'cheap ass Tuesdays', to keep the pleasure of life flowing. He agreed, we could.

I find myself asking what procedure could be put into place whereby this sense of being led might continue in my life. I can honestly say I get little pleasure in a purchase made unilaterally for myself. Should I, perhaps, engage him in conversation about a possible purchase, or show him the purchase with the tags attached, to ensure he likes what I have bought myself?

I'm incredibly happy and content and I just hope it can last. My true nature has been able to be expressed for a goodly amount of time and the last thing I want is to lose the wonderful gains we have achieved on a holiday I will never forget.

Pleasure in the pain

It's the middle of final year exams here right now and there's plenty of serious study going on and also some light relief; a sort of pain/pleasure mix. We've an interesting and bizarre system here where a cohort's score can raise your score up or bring it down. This is not well understood by most students who hold onto material themselves, loathe to share their good ideas.

My son knows better. His score was reduced for a final year creative subject he took last year because his cohort didn't do well in the exam, so this year he determined that the Drama class understood this and he initiated Skype chats where they shared answers and ideas. This is great because it would be too sad for this exceptionally talented team of performers to be let down in their scores by an average examination experience. I could hear conversations taking place in his bedroom all afternoon and night as they co-operatively worked together. They've planned lunch out afterwards and I'd like to think that in some capacity they will always be friends.

With all this in place I took my son over to school just now and we hugged in our ritualistic way and I said, as I always do, 'May the force be with you'. This is my 'good luck' message to all my children when they have some mountain to climb. However, on returning home I realized he had left his water bottle, another ritual of his, to fill up his clear water bottle just before he heads off for an examination. I checked the time and decided that if I ran fast I could make it to him before they were called in.

Past the eucalytus trees I ran, the freshly mowed oval where he had played countless soccer games, the bicylce stands, the Science building, the swimming pool and around to the gymnasium where I saw boys standing around chatting. Yes! There was some chance I had made it in time. Suddenly, I saw my son's head bob up from where he had been sitting on the grass and it was clear he was confused to see me. I held up the water bottle. 'Ah, you came all the way back! Thank you'. 'Good luck,' I said to him and those gathered, and as I was running away I heard someone say, 'Your mum is awesome' and then my son said, 'She makes me a hot breakfast every morning.' Ya see! They do care about these things.

As he was eating said breakfast this morning, he turned to me and said, 'Mum, you'll like this' and he played me an audio he had saved on his phone; a conversation between two boys that had taken place in their respective homes yesterday. It was two of his mates in conversation about Maths Methods. Clearly, one was better at the subject than the other and rather than two mates in conversation, one was performing the role of teacher and one was the student, in the sense that he understood his inferior capabilities in this subject.

'So, the answer is 9y.'
'Oh, f*ck me. How could it be 9y?'
'Because x has to be a less than y if you are derivating the number.' (I'm making this up a bit. It was gobbledy gook to me, actually)
'No, that can't be. Isn't y equal to 6?'
'No. x must be less.'
'What a mother f**ker of a subject this is! I'm burning my books the minute the examination is over. I am going to take great delight in burning all this crap.'
(Snickers heard)
'I don't understand how you can burn all your work.'
'Oh, you are going to burn your books too. Don't tell me you're too good to burn your books. This subject has caused me so much pain. This shit is going to burn in hell.'
(lots more snickers)
'Moving onto question 9f...'

This is life. There is always someone better at something than us, somebody who will teach us something we don't know; somebody who has to take the lead; somebody who has to get the ball rolling.

I adore the fact that these boys pool their resources and push everybody up with them, but the fact remains that only one boy will dux the grade. It's about PBs really and having some fun in amongst all the angst.

Last weekend I sat next to a girl who I knew well at school. I haven't seen her for nearly 40 years and it was fun to catch up on her life (Well, career really. It was all about her career.)I always knew she was smarter than me and she went on to become an academic, and I think she makes a difference to the world too, in her own way. She was well above me in terms of results, but I was smart enough to go to the same university as her and in the first year of university I'd try to get her to help me with my Linguistics, which was sometimes gobbledygook to me. My brain processes creative aspects of life better than it does mathematics or linguistics, as I found it. But, she had no real interest in helping me, I soon discovered, and I find myself hoping that these days she is more generous towards her PhD students. Let's hope she was able to make that change.

We are who we are, need what we need, want what we want. We can strive to be anything our hearts can dream but there are limits to this. We can only play with the cards we are dealt; be who we are; find our own way to shine. Peace comes when we can find the generosity within ourselves to share ourselves and when we can understand and accept ourselves; know our place in this big, wide world, because we all have a place.

Leaders

Shakespeare had that extraordinary ability to understand men - their virtues and their vices - and he didn't shy away from the Carnivalesque world. In his famous character of Falstaff we have an entry point into that fantastical world where responsibility has no place. The moment where Hal finally rejects him is said by some critics to be the saddest moment in theatrical history. Yet, he has been given so many chances, had so many warnings of what was to come if he did not reform, that we understand, and Falstaff and Hal themselves understand, that his banishment is written in the stars.

Of course, it his forbearance of Falstaff, even to the point where Falstaff is useless in battle, a total hindrance in fact, that we cannot ignore. Prince Hal offers him the honour of saying that it was he that killed Hotspur and saved the King,  reminding the audience that chivalry is not dead.

For my part, if a lie may do thee grace
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have 

This is a successful King in the making. Courageous and strategic, with a robust understanding of the Machiavellian creed, yet not so desiring of honour that he cannot aid his friend, he has all the necessary qualities to lead.

I suppose there is something steadfast about Hotspur some might find attractive. His noble pursuit of honour at the behest of all other aspects of life has something solid about it. We know where we stand. He'll be valiant in battle. He'll do all he can. Yet, his rejection of song, of his wife's troubles, I don't think we can forgive him that; that ruthless bloody mindedness to see life only through his own eyes; to not have some kind words for Kate before his departure. We don't take kindly to that, nor should we.

It never ceases to amaze me that a man who wrote so long ago had such insight into human nature that what he wrote about then still applies today. We cannot accept Falstaff's rejection of the pursuit of honour such that we can applaud cowards and self-interested men, but nor can we put ourselves behind men like Hotspur who would lead us onto the battlefield without forethought and an all encompassing understanding of what it is to live.

Those of us with a submissive leaning recognize innately that a good leader must possess level-headedness, and a sense of honour that encompasses justice and chivalry; an understanding of the multi-dimensional concept of the word 'honour' (not to seek it for its own sake), and even some understanding of the Carnivalesque world. If they wish to be much loved and admired, well then, of course, they must be capable of loving abundantly. Innately, this is well understood whatever the era.

Masochism

If I were to expose my mind to a psychologist it would become obvious very quickly that he or she was seating opposite a masochist. I've been reluctant to make that admission, even to myself, but I have reached a point where there is no point in denying it any further.

It was clear years ago that I was aroused by being told what to do and by having someone in control of me in various ways. Yet, I didn't feel that the title of 'masochist' applied, since I didn't need or particularly want, a great deal of pain.

I did notice this: that if the control was intense and certain I could take a lot more sensation than if I felt I could manipulate a situation. This is still the case. Even in the mindset of 'toy' I can still push and test. I seem to need to know that if I push against the wall it won't cave in on me; that the wall is solid and I can't knock it down.

This is what has often gone awry with my husband and me. He sees a bit of anger and distress and figures that I have had enough or he has done the wrong thing. On the contrary, whatever distress or anger I am experiencing will soon blow over if he can hold his nerve, not easy sometimes, I am sure, but there it is.

I like the control to be such that I cannot influence or effect it. Of course, situations will call for some adjustment or negotiation at times but I need to know that there is no Plan B, simply a slight modification of Plan A on occasion and only if absolutely necessary.

It hasn't always been this way. This situation has evolved as I have become more comfortable and certain in my role. My submission is deeply affected by the certainty and intensity of the control. Some people say that masochists really want to control. I don't buy that but I do recognize that I am capable of exerting control (or giving it a go) if I don't feel there is enough control being exerted over me or if it feels that there is, at that moment, too much. I push at the wall trying to get it to convince me that I am wasting my time. I don't want to control. I want to be certain that the control over me is alive and well.

These days my masochism is well expressed and that relates to the level of sadism being exerted. I'm still a little gobsmacked to type that sadism in various guises is not the least off putting to me (even though it can initially make me very angry and rebellious). That is to say, having recognized that I appreciate sadistic games I am in no position to complain about the sadist's glee when I experience pain or discomfort. This exchange of energy, this reinforcement of position and place, is comforting, reassuring and arousing.

If the mind of the masochist is engaged there are countless ways one can control her. It's the creativity of the sadist that matters here. The meting out of pain and control works in any number of ways so long as roles have been ascribed and adhered to. It's these constant reminders of place and status that are so fulfilling to both players. It may take some time to reach this place and it's important, I believe, not to allow gains garnered to slide back to previous levels. What's best for both is when the relationship can evolve and spread its wings over time. When the dynamic is cemented that's when the explorations can really start to happen.

My point is that I need to know my place and to be held accountable for maintaining that place. It's clear even to me that this is how I feel safe and secure. As the masochist and 'bottom' I need to feel sure that the sadist/Top is comfortable and secure in his place, ready, willing and able to guide me.  To my mind the Dominant/Top/sadist is responsible for creating the road map for the journey whilst the submissive/bottom/masochist is responsible for following the directions given to her to take her to interesting places that will complete her and expand her horizons.

I can see that it is a tough situation for someone who isn't sure of the extent of another's person submissive's stance or her desire for masochism. She probably isn't sure herself how far she can go or what she is capable of, or wants. I can only emphasize once again that she will go a very long way in the journey if she feels that the leadership is there - strong, certain, unfailingly reliable and dependable. We all have our off days but I know what it is like to flap in the breeze and it's not a good  look and to be avoided at all costs.

How the dominant works

I took great pleasure last night in watching two 50 year old women have their appearance transformed on the show What Not to Wear. When we met them they were both sad, tired and unkempt. As they were given positive attention and encouragement and shown the sort of clothing that would accentuate their assets they began to open and blossom like beautiful flowers. By the time their hair had been colored and cut in a style that was more contemporary and flattering they couldn't wipe the smiles off their faces.

They had been transformed into happy and fun loving women, brimming over with the sort of confidence that only engenders more and more happiness, for them and all the people in their lives. I can get quite teary over this sort of show, just as I shed tears of joy when a man got down on bended knee and proposed to his girlfriend on the Ellen DeGeneres show recently.

Transforming someone into their higher self is a wonderful experience - watching people come alive - and so it makes sense to me that some dominant personalities love to take a person and alter them. Of course, the possibilities are limitless but it seems to me that accentuating a woman's sexuality is something that dominants particularly love to do.

Some people would say that 'the slut' was always there in the girl and some people would say that she was led to appreciate being 'the slut'. I think both statements are true for many submissive women. Certainly, I've harbored rather slutty thoughts from the youngest age and kept them in the safe port of my mind. Those slutty thoughts, however, have required an environment that feels safe and most importantly, tolerant. More than that, it has required an environment where those thoughts are desired.

I've been open to becoming more slutty. I've enjoyed that. But, my thoughts alone were only ever going to take me so far. I've been influenced and exposed to ideas that were new to me. Initially, I had no intention of going further than seemed completely comfortable. Over time, this thought was turned on its head as my desires grew and grew. My predilections advanced in such a way that I never really knew, and still don't know, if what I desire now is what I always wanted (but, how is this so when my exposure was so limited?) or whether I was led to want what I now consider my deepest, darkest and most fervent desires, that may well have been in my mind in some form all along.

It's a very sophisticated, cerebral sort of dominance that transforms a girl over a period of time that could expand to years and years. Ever patient and vigilant, this type of dominant person takes great pleasure in slowly molding a person to want what they want, in such a way that it is almost impossible to decipher just what went on. All one can really say is that one changed; altered; transformed.

It's been my experience that most profound BDSM experiences can't be explained in words. I do, perhaps foolishly, have a go at doing just that here on the web journal at times, but the truth is that you can't explain to someone what something feels like until he or she experience it for himself or herself. I can't explain in words what it was like to be anally trained and adore that, any more than I can explain how it came to be that I became absolutely desperate to have my first latex hood recently. It's been on my mind for a good two years but it is only in the past two weeks that the passion for the experience overwhelmed me.

In fact, my husband had told me to order one some time ago and I don't know why I didn't do it then, except to say that I so very much wanted to get it right. It was my lack of understanding of exactly what I wanted, I think, that held me back from placing the order. Two days ago I asked my husband to help me measure the circumference of my head. Then, I discussed with him the merits of certain colors. We decided together on black because as he said, I didn't want any light coming in, and although baby pink is a divine thought, it's the block out feeling that I most want. This left the all important decision of deciding the weight of the latex and after some consultation with friends who know more than me in this department I went with the heavier weight.

When I pressed the button confirming the order I could not have been more excited about my purchase. It's thrilling to me to read the notes they send me via email giving me updates, the latest one being that the order is "being processed". I began this web journal in 2009 and if you had told me back then I'd be so absolutely delighted that my head was to be tightly covered in latex, with no eyes and no mouth, I'd have thought you were on something.

Slowly, one careful step at a time, I've been introduced to ideas that arouse me and thrill me to the core. I've come to understand the meaning of very deeply committed and connected couples. Their words didn't allow me to understand what they do exactly. I could see their contentment but I didn't fully understand it. I do now. It's deeply spiritual. It's stunningly beautiful.

The word 'slut' can't begin to describe the magnificence of two people wanting the very same thing; doing to and for one another what allows their souls to collide. Of course, you won't necessarily know what I mean because I can't tell you about something like that or describe something like that. To really understand, it must be lived. Power exchanges are not for the fainthearted, but for those people willing to go the distance, they are relationships that have a very tender quality; that ooze with love. 

The spiritual side of submission

It works for some people to have a 'scene'; to put down their day-to-day persona for a time and let their submissive or dominant side take over. When the scene is over, they can smile and even laugh about it and return to their usual mode of communicating and operating.

I've had conversations like this with people and I tend to listen and not say too much because I don't really relate or seek this myself. I recognize that this is what they want and I respect their position, but it's not what I want at all. Neither position is more right than the other or 'better', it's just that when people talk like this I get this sinking feeling, because it doesn't feel enough to me.

To be clear, I do enjoy a 'scene'. I have these with my husband. He 'captures' me, usually unawares, and I'm his, to do with as he pleases. Naturally enough, I enjoy these situations and I am enriched by them.

Afterwards, not all the time but often enough, we return to our usual mode of operating immediately. Sometimes, there are some lovely add on moments and feelings,  a state of mind that extends beyond the scene. They are deeply felt experiences for me because I feel most myself when that 'bimbo' (small, contained, controlled and happy to be so) state of mind takes over my psyche and I can feel myself.

More and more, my spiritual (even religious) side of my being is connecting with my very strong and real desire to be taken over. There is a ritual of mine that aids me daily and in those moments I feel a sense of reverence, much as I do in moments in a Church. I'm aware that Man institutes religious practices but it doesn't prevent me from feeling deep peace inside a church; a fascination with sacred rituals such as sprinkling holy water on a coffin. I'm deep inside myself in those moments; connecting with some spring of life inside me that really longs to be tapped into. It is a sense of wanting to be 'taken over', under another's care and control, much as we understand on some level, if we are at all religious or spiritual, that we have no real control over what will be.

It occurred to me this morning that I so very much want to learn; more than ever before, in fact. If I were free to do so I'd go and seek out those who can teach me about the secrets of life; the wonders of the mind and belief; be in their presence; tap into their minds; learn. I do this already in my own way; read, absorb, take in the lessons they have to teach via their written words.

I have so much to be grateful for in my life. I can't complain. Yet, how blessed it would have been if I had understood and accepted myself for who I am so much earlier. How blessed it would have been to have been partnered with a man who quietly and unreservedly led me to a life wherein 'bimbo' was present constantly; a living and expressed entity that was supported day by day. I am loved, of this I am sure. Yet, I must admit I often don't feel cared for because it is 'the girl' who seems wanted.

Yet, bimbo leads. Bimbo insists on leading. Bimbo demands, every single day and there is nothing I can do about it.

Saying 'I love you'

In my emails this morning was a brief email from a correspondent of mine who simply wrote that it seemed like I was fading away. That message made me think. Yes, I have been quiet; reflective; contemplative. I have felt stymied as well. I have felt that any further writing here is like feeding a shark; a thief; a man who is waiting for me to put up another post to give him more material for his novel. It just feels...wrong; invasive; 'word/idea rape'.

Yet, I'm still the same person living out my life in much the same way; still very absorbed in the same thoughts; hopes; dreams. I went over to my email that is attached to my Tumblr account and there was a new follower. I noted that he was a man and that his Tumblr blog was filled with what you might expect of a virile man with a strong sexual drive; lots and lots of reblogged photos of very sexy looking naked women with big breasts and big bottoms. I scrolled through a few pages and that was pretty much it. I make no judgement. It's his account; his daydream time; his lust and desire that he chooses to document for his enjoyment and so long as he's hurting no one, that's all fine.

The little experience did, however, remind me once again that my foray into the land of power exchange, BDSM and Tumblr is different. I don't shy away from the fact that at times I have put up very graphic photos of people having sex. I've even reblogged photographs of people having sex whilst other men stood by waiting for their turn of the 'fucktoy' because I certainly have those thoughts in my mind. In a fucktoy state of mind I'm capable of having the dirtiest thoughts that match the mind of a virile man. However, for me there is so much more to my explorations than just sex or the mind of the fucktoy who rejects so little of the male state of mind.

In returning to the dashboard of my Tumblr account I came across various writings. I follow several people who offer spiritual and inspirational thoughts regularly. I reblogged a list of very big questions because in taking the time to think about an answer a great deal can be learned about your own mind. If you're interested in seeing the whole list click onto the 'Complete Cindi' link.

The question numbered 16 captured my attention particularly:

Excluding romantic love, when was the last time you told someone you loved them. Who were they to you?

Regular readers will know that I have a friend who I refer to as a 'mentor' because I have no better word to describe our relationship. We've been friends for a good many years now and although he comes and goes in my life in rather rapid fashion these days, we've ridden through the good and the bad times together. We've remained friends in that sort of 'undying friends' way that you have with one or two people in your life.

My friend is a very dominant minded sort of man who likes to have control and to be in control whilst I am a very submissive minded sort of woman who likes to give up control and to get to a state where I feel I have no control. Our exchanges have been along this line as he's provided training and opportunity for me to experience this sort of exchange. It's only words. The Pacific Ocean is between us, however it's been very valuable and earnest. We take it very seriously.

We've become so intuitive within these exchanges that I feel sure that we both know when something is up. We can feel some sort of issue with one another and in our own way we attempt to deal with our upset feelings. Of course, our arrangement isn't perfect because of the dynamic we have agreed to and there are misunderstandings; little hurts and grievances along the way. Every now and then we come out of the dynamic for a very short time to air those grievances or to talk about an issue in our 'real' lives that may make it difficult or impossible for us to continue talking for the time being.  It's very rare but occasionally that happens.

My dear friend was explaining to me within the dynamic we share that things were not good for him at this time and I should not expect him to log on for a time. Of course, I wanted to understand why this was so because for the past month I had my worries about him which I had been unable to share and I didn't want him to walk away without some discussion about this.

I deemed it better that we come out of the dynamic and I asked permission to do so. As I said earlier, we take our agreement very, very seriously and he's the leader of our exchange. Very. much. so. He gave me permission and we discussed more openly what had led to this outcome. In a very grown up way, I thought, (and I hope he would agree) we reached mutual agreement that a 'time out' was best; that we remained "absent friends" and that when the time was right we would resume contact.

To explain my mindset I can only say that some friendships and associations are for life. I feel this very strongly. He has made mistakes with me and I have made mistakes with him but we have forgiven one another those mistakes. We recognize in one another a sense of goodness and we have a deep sense of trust and acceptance of one another. We are both good people.We both mean well. Neither one of us wants to say goodbye and so we never do (and mean it). We have made up a few times now and just moved on.

Anyway, we were winding up this final conversation for an indefinite period of time. I knew there were only seconds left and I had the strongest, strongest desire to type I love you. Hopefully, no reader would misinterpret this statement. We've never had a romantic notion towards one another and our exchanges don't bear that sentiment at all. Our exchanges are in fact quite formal in tone as pertains to our dynamic. I had the desire to type those words because I wanted him to know that I cared deeply; that I wished him well; that I accepted him for who he was regardless of actions that might have caused me hurt. Through it all, I loved him as a human being and as my friend.

I didn't type those words. Our dynamic has a number of rules and one of the rules is that we do not say such things to one another. The trust, the care, the acceptance and the endearment should already be known and felt.

Yet, in the weeks since then I have regretted that I held back. Why must it be that I can't express a sentiment that goes to the heart of our friendship? And, so I say it now, as one friend to another. I love you. Through good times and bad, you're my friend. Be well.

Where has cindi gone?

Before I was introduced to 'cindi', the primal side of my personality, that part of me that revels in fun, submission, giving up control and slutty thoughts, I used to read the blog of a man who did a very similar thing with and for his wife. When with the family and friends, or out there in the big, wide world she was let's say, Helen, but when she was with him alone she was let's say, pammi. In this way he gave her an outlet to express that part of her personality that needed to remain hidden from the world at large but that was very much there.

In fact, they weren't into spanking or using implements at all. It just wasn't their thing. But, she knew that in her pammi state her role was to submit to his wishes and he gave her a wonderfully sexual time. It wasn't just in the bedroom. They had little rituals such as his calling her to say he was almost home and she would be there at the door to greet him in a certain way. She was always required to speak in a very respectful way with a respectful tone and she asked permission for things, which he readily granted because he wasn't a harsh husband or dominant. He was really into her relaxing and enjoying life; enjoying their time together, expressing her submissive self whilst he expressed his Dominant self. I'm not suggesting that they didn't have difficult times or that he was faultless. I know better than that. But, as a model, it seemed a good one to me.

So, when a friend who became a mentor suggested a similar model for me in the form of 'cindi', it wasn't a stretch for me. It seemed like a good idea and it was a good idea.

Of course, cindi isn't bright. In fact, she's decidedly not  smart. She's incredibly happy to take direction because she knows full well that she's not bright and being directed makes her feel much safer. She isn't at all unhappy about her dumdum state, just aware that she needs to be controlled and contained because that's the safe and the smart thing for dolls to be. Dollies need to know that there's someone who can tell them what to do. Sigh. cindi felt better just saying that.

Now, what if the girl couldn't get to the cindi state? What if that avenue of expression were taken away from her? What if Vesta had to submit not via cindi but via her own god given intelligence. What would that look like? Any ideas because I am not visualizing this too well. cindi wonders too when she can come out and play...

Leadership traits

Some correspondence with a reader recently highlighted for me what is, of course, self-evident; that in the same way that my nature is submissive, his is dominant. In other words, he is a natural leader.

My youngest son recently undertook career-style testing. He had to do a test that lasted over three hours and when the report came back with the results it was astoundingly comprehensive. As we already knew, he has very strong skills in the creative sphere and possible careers were film producer or multi-media producer; that sort of thing. What surprised me slightly was that they inferred from the test results that he wasn't so much interested in leading as he was in being a strong team player.

When I thought about it, that's probably right. He does like things done in a particular way and he is a stickler for doing things very, very well; until he is satisfied with them. However, he isn't someone to insist on his own way when he has to consider other people. He's keen to listen to their point of view and to incorporate their ideas into the project, if he can. There are some things that he just does, regardless of what others think. He won't be without his special hat, and he's made various excuses to wear this hat at school. Remarkably,  no teacher has had issue with his point of view. I think when you are a very easy kid to teach you can get away with little things.

I'd like to think that he is Prefect material because he is fully involved in school life and boys do admire him on various levels and he would be a very good role model. I think he wants that, although he hasn't said so. Certainly, he has a reputation as a great public speaker, a good actor; that sort of thing. We'll see. However, I have to agree he doesn't jump out at me as a leader in an overt way. Yet...if I were caught in a storm I'd like to have his intelligence along for the trip. I think he'd stay calm headed and he'd sort out what to do. It's a tricky thing to explain this aptitude for leadership!

When I was at school I was very, very good. That's not news to long time readers. I've mentioned that trait before. I wasn't at the school for my middle years but I was back again in the last two years of school. I wasn't made a Prefect and my close friends felt this to be a travesty of justice. However, you see, I didn't want to be a Prefect. I didn't want to have to tell girls to tie up their shoes and put their hats on. I didn't seek power.  I just wanted to do my work and be involved in the activities that engaged me - like public speaking and writing. At no point have I wanted to lead and I wasn't at all bothered to not be a Prefect.

Here's a good example: My oldest son often got ear infections as a young boy. He has a very high pain threshold and I had to use my instincts to know if he had another ear infection or not because I couldn't rely on him telling me about the pain. So, on this day I said, "Well, do you think you should go to school or not? I am not sure..." and he responded, "You're the mother! What do you think?" Oh, yeah. It was up to me to make the decision. Duh!

Now, I can say without qualification that my eldest son was always meant to lead. At the age of three his pre-school teachers told me that he stood out as the leader and in his final year of school he was Captain of this and Captain of that. His friendship group called him "Daddy" and once he got into the workforce he quickly became a leader.

One of his very dearest friends now told me that he used to think him an "asshole" when he first knew him in their corporate life because he would just listen to people at work. Since he'd say nothing they'd keep on blathering, feeling that they had to impress him. People, including this current friend were a bit intimidated by him. When I mentioned this to my son, he said that, yes, he gave people the opportunity to speak and when they were finished, he gave them his opinion, which, yes, tended to be the final word. It wasn't a ploy; merely his way of operating at work. Needless to say, he has worked his way up the rungs of the ladder, ideally suited to leadership. It's nothing I've done. It's the way he came out.

My daughter came out feisty; terribly creative and strong willed with a very soft side. Her career is off and running now and she's incorporated her creative strengths with her ability to lead. I think in her relationship she's capable of being under her boyfriend's wing. Certainly, she's adjusted to him and when he said that she was welcome to be in a bad mood but not welcome to change his mood from a good one to a bad one, she changed. To her credit, she worked very hard on that.

My middle son is a do-er. He's got very, very strong interests and he goes ahead and involves himself in those. He's not at all interested in leadership at this point and he never really was. He's his own man, doing his own thing; not particularly worried what others are doing, unless they screw up what he is doing. I don't mean to say that he is easily led, because he absolutely is not. He's just not that phased about what other people think. I remember in grade 8 his English teacher asked him to represent the class in the year level public speaking competition but he declined; not interested in fame. Yet, in his own interests, he is very competitive. Remember Richard Burton? "I go my own way." That's my middle son.

I haven't even gone close to talking about the different styles of leadership. Some people demand that others follow. Some people cajole other people. Some people seduce; impress others; entice them; listen to everyone and then make a decision...and so on.

I can see a snake oil salesman coming a mile away. I can pick out those who are laying it on and who think they are something special. I'm not easily impressed by this sort of thing. I don't care if they have loads of money or power. I talk to them in the same way I talk to anyone else. If people are nice to me, I'm nice to them. I don't have a desire to lead and that pretty much takes away my cares about all sorts of things; although I do listen to my husband and children if something is not right with someone and make my assessment as to how they best deal with them. But, that's not leadership, that's just reading people.

People are often talking about this nature/nurture debate but when it comes to leadership qualities I tend to think either you have it or you don't have it. It was decided at birth. And if you don't have it, not to worry. There's pleasure in being submissive; at least, there is for me!

Leadership skills

I have been thinking about 'dominance' and in fact, it is just another word for 'leadership'. I've been reading about leadership and it is broken down to five key components.

- self management
- leading others
- task management
- innovation
- social responsibility.

There is far too much material within those five categories to deal with all categories so I want to focus on self-management.  Within self-management, there are issues of self control, stress tolerance, personal resiliency, work life balance and adaptability.

Leaders need to have knowledge of human behavior, to be comfortable interacting and working with others, to seek out ways to assist people in their duties and they must be able to nurture relationships, building positive and co-operative working relationships with others and maintaining relationships over time.

I have never thought of myself as a leader mainly because I am not motivated to want to be a leader.  I don't have a strong desire to lead others but if I were placed in that situation I think I could do it, with proper training. I'd like to attend one of those 'leadership conferences' and get all the material I'd need to lead well, and then I'd simply apply it. I would not be entirely comfortable. The mere thought of having to reprimand someone makes me feel very uncomfortable but if I had to acquire these skills I think I could.

In terms of self-management, well that's what I have been learning and focusing on since the day I began this web journal. I've been working on self control and stress tolerance and personal resiliency as well as adaptability, and I've continued to try to get the work life balance correct in my life. Without blowing my own trumpet too loudly I'd say I'd made pretty huge gains on that front, and how interesting it is that both a leader and a subordinate (submissive) require those skills in spades.

There are issues associated with acquiring those skills, however. I have learned not to argue back, not to cause any rumpus, and to absorb upset. I have developed my own ways of settling myself and dealing with any distress. I'm so good at this that someone who is leading me may get entirely the wrong impression - that I am satisfied and settled within myself.

This reverts back to the fact that it is vital in a power exchange for there to be free-flowing communication back and forth. A submissive or subordinate needs to feel free to respectfully explain an issue. When the leader makes an error or fails to exhibit self-control I see it as important that this is acknowledged. It encourages a good rapport between the two of them and makes the subordinate feel respected and safe under that leadership. No-one is comfortable under tyranny and those leaders who don't acknowledge their errors and who don't invite rational, free-flowing discussion using modulated voices are at risk of closing subordinates (submissives) down. That's not a good thing for anyone because without the support of subordinates, the leadership is in peril.

Leadership takes a lot of work and amongst all the skills that need to be learned and attended to over time, none is more important I think than having self-awareness and self-insight. If your emotions are often out of your control, then you need to go back to basics and develop self-control skills. I am here to tell you that it can be done with hard work. There is just no way that you can expect self control of your subordinate or submissive if you can't demonstrate to him or her that you have worked on these skills yourself.

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.

Age

I've had friendships or 'relationships' for want of a better word with people much younger and much older than me. In all cases, if you insist on there being a leader of that relationship, then I can say that I was definitely not it. Even with Bart (my writing buddy) I work on the basis that he has stronger skills than me and knows more than me about writing and I think that's an accurate interpretation. I probably choose this sort of relationship because I know that it can aid me and on some level it feels more comfortable for me.

I've wondered about the age gap. When you have been a mother of several children you develop a tendency to mother people just a bit . People either like that or they deflect such attempts. Bart is considerably younger than me (about 25 years) and my attempts to get him to slow down in life were fruitless.

As a person who has walked this earth a couple of decades longer than him it was clear to me that his relentless activity would lead nowhere good. Working seven days a week, taking on three Masters subjects (and he even taking on two Masters at a time for a while there) as well as being newly married, something had to give. He did get rid of one of the Masters but it was not enough.  He and his wife are in the throes of divorce, with the writing course temporarily put on hold. I could have told him but here's the thing: he was never going to listen.

It goes without saying that when I was a working girl I was the subordinate in the relationship and that went right across the board. He'd give me (financial) advice. Sometimes I'd take it and sometimes I wouldn't. Sometimes, that was because I was newly married and I needed to take my husband's advice, even if I felt that what my boss had to say had merit.

"You should take my advice," he said one day, in a frustrated way.

When I met him for lunch many years later and he wasn't all that long for this earth, the relationship's synergy, its dynamic hadn't changed at all. I'd suggested a place to meet and he didn't like it so we got in his car and drove further down the main road. It didn't take long for me to realize that he was rather unwell now and that I was taking my life in my hands really to be driving in that enormous car with him behind the wheel. But, our dynamic didn't allow me to say anything.

Later, when he drove me back to my car he asked if I could get across the road all right on my own. It was an 'in' joke. He'd often say something like that to me as if I were a bit helpless and I smiled and assured him I'd be careful. His life may have been limited now but when together we were still operating in the same ways.

It makes me wonder...does the significantly older person of the relationship bear the responsibility in some way? I know that when I was being mentored I often felt that age was no barrier. He treated me in very much the same way as I imagined he would have treated someone a decade younger; two decades younger. I had great respect for the fact that the rules were the same for me as anyone else and I hope he respected the fact that I didn't intentionally try to assert myself via age. I might have tried that on once or twice but quickly got cyberspacely slapped across the wrist for it. After that, I let any advantage in being older go.

Having said that, here's the thing: I am older. I have experienced more. I haven't experienced more in a BDSM sort of way. No way. However, I have experienced more of life. I've just been around longer; can predict more easily what is likely to happen; how life is likely to play out. I see it in the relationships of women friends married to younger men. The women have been around the traps longer; seen more. Even if the husbands are the leaders, and they are, it is that much harder to hold back on giving advice; to want to explain the likely outcomes of this or that plan of action.

My brother referred to me as "the bedrock" of the family on the weekend. Wow. I had never thought of it like this before. Yet, I get what he means. You reach a certain age and you start to feel that it is your job to protect your flock, those people that you care about. You can't save them if they refuse to be saved but you can listen and discreetly suggest and just make sure that they all know that you are always there for them.

It is  a bit of misnomer: 'submissive woman'. A woman who gets to my age feels a certain sense of power and capability; a comfort in her own skin that belies the title of 'submissive woman'. Truly, I am strong and invincible these days. I've been through enough to know that I can survive.

It doesn't mean that I can't get a huge thrill from submitting. I very much know that I can be thrilled and that I revel in those beautiful moments of my life. But, I am mature now.

My boss used to say that I left his employ just in the nick of time; that the trade in-able age was 30. After that, he said, women were too interested in doing things their own way. And Ron, our Texan friend said the same thing He'd had two wives, one his own age and one almost two decades younger and neither of them liked the fact that they couldn't change him a dolt. He was going super young next time, he said!

But what a thrill, yes!? To have the mature woman with a sense of self and a string of 'sensibilities' wobble at the knees and actually want to, beg to, submit to your will! Whether 35 or twice that age, that has to be quite the charge.

The inner child

In my reading over the past few days about patriarchy, the term 'patriarchal voice' just didn't work for me. What I did was replace that term with another. I thought of this voice as a 'protective voice'. It's the voice that we go to for advice about what society deems we should do. This worked better for me. In taking advice from that voice, we can compromise parts of ourselves in that we may not set limits as to what is acceptable and healthy behaviour for us. Or, we may bury other aspects of our personality.

In many cases, I believe, we can lose the 'inner child'. This happens to both men and women as life takes on more and more responsibility and as we listen and take heed to societal pressures. It happens to all of us, in some measure.

During the time of my mentoring, my inner child was allowed free reign. Of course, there were rules and very specific ways of interacting. I knew my place and should I forget, the correction was immediate. For both of us, and I strongly believe this, we were two kids let loose in the candy shop. We were often joyous, child like; exuberant. Fun was very much close to the top of the agenda.

For ages, I wasn't really aware of this. I was too busy just letting out that part of my personality to think about it. I see very clearly now that what was so very special about the exchange (and there were other special things as well) was that we both allowed our inner child free reign.

It's a complex thing because I distinctly remember one time not wanting to do something and the child part of my psyche said so. He insisted that it must be done. There was no manipulation or strategic thinking involved when I replied, "But, wot if cindi sed pleeeeeez? He replied that it wouldn't matter. She still had to do as she was told. This floored me. Didn't little children get their way if they asked oh so nysssseli?? If they were adorable enough, didn't the person in charge say, "Oh, all right. Just. this. one. time." So, my inner child was allowed free reign so long as she understood the voice of authority.

When people listen too hard to their protective voice, they can become very serious. There are all sorts of reasons why they shouldn't do what they would like to do. Or, on the flip side, they want to please, if they are a pleaser, and they don't lay down some limits to protect themselves enough. I think this patriarchal voice that I have been reading about simply is the same thing that my psychologist spoke to me about. It was absolutely fine for me to express the very feminine side of my personality but I also needed to give expression to the side of my personality that wanted to achieve something in the real world for myself. I could be nurturing and doting and giving and submit so long as I put some boundaries around myself. It was okay for me to express all components of my personality. I didn't need to stick to just one entirely.

I look back on my mentoring sessions with great affection. It was my opportunity to let my inner child out in the sunshine to run free. Often gleeful, full of mirth and giggly it was a heady and happy time in my life; the loveliest of gifts.

Frederick takes Agnes shopping

The following is Agnes' point of view of when Frederick took her shopping and follows on from here:

Agnes enjoyed walking the streets of Paris with Frederick but she had to remind herself that she was not able to act autonomously any more. Captivated by the beauty she spied in the store windows she would have lingered longer at various locations if on her own and sometimes she would wander off to look at something, unaware that Frederick was not sure where she had gone. She was still inclined to think of herself as a sole entity. She sometimes had in her mind where she thought they were going and would proceed in that direction only to discover that Frederick was steering her the opposite way.

On this occasion, she was turning the corner to go left only to feel Frederick grab her elbow and turn her to the right to cross the street. It was an unusual sensation being grabbed by the elbow; much more controlling, she felt, than if he had simply put his hand in hers. She felt like a little girl being supervised by an adult when he did that and slightly embarrassed she looked back over her shoulder to see if anyone had been watching.

A few doors down the street Frederick turned into the entrance of a particular store and finding the window display instantly appealing she remarked on how lovely she found the dresses. She was pleased that Frederick suggested they go in and look more closely.

Once inside the store, Agnes found herself once again confronted by a situation where Frederick seemed to be well known and welcomed by other women. Although it had seemed to her serendipitous that Frederick and she had agreed to enter this particular store, it was now obvious that he was a regular customer here and a well known and popular customer at that. She suddenly felt a wave of insecurity and it was that sense of insecurity or even jealousy that had her tug on his arm.

Frederick, on the other hand, seemed to be in his element chatting with the sales women and graciously introduced Agnes to them and asked for their help in selecting a special dress. Before she knew what was happening they too had taken her by the elbows and whisked her away to show her racks of clothes. She looked back at Frederick for some guidance as to whether it was all right and he gestured to her to follow them along.

This was a brand new experience for Agnes and not wanting him to think that she was in any way pre-empting the situation or having any expectations of him, she returned to him with a few dresses and asked which he liked. But, he assured her that as pieces of cloth, the dresses mattered little to him. He wanted to see how Agnes brought them to life before he could make any decision. He wanted her to try them all on.

 It seemed so decadent to her. Agnes had to save carefully to be able to afford new pieces of clothing. She loved to look at beautiful things but her need for frugality meant that she was rarely tempted to try anything on in such an expensive store. Also, being the centre of attention was not comfortable for her. The whole situation had a surreal quality about it for her. 

Seeing that she was hesitant Frederick gestured to her to “go go go go” and on the strength of his determination, she tried to relax into her predicament. She even managed to giggle along with the girls as they prepared her to model the garments for Fredrick.

Agnes came out to where Frederick was sitting on a leather wing-backed chair. She was wearing a floral-patterned summer dress. She stood in front of him but she seemed self-conscious, her hands in front of her. “Stand on the balls of your feet. Turn around and show off the dress.” As Agnes turned and twirled about she began to take on the presence of a little girl. His direction and presence was giving her some confidence and he had her put the dress aside as a possibility. This routine was repeated for the next dress Agnes modelled. Frederick rejected that one and Agnes headed back to the dressing room to try on the next outfit.

This time, Agnes appeared in a blazer and skirt with no shirt underneath. She was more comfortable with showing herself off now and her comfort in the outfit was apparent. Agnes tended towards appreciating  classic clothing and this was an outfit she might have gravitated to herself if on her own. Frederick nodded his approval and off she went to the changing room, smiling broadly. This really was a lovely, indulgent experience with Frederick there, she had decided. She was thoroughly enjoying herself now, fully immersed in a sense of feeling pretty and feminine.

Agnes modelled several other outfits with her last one being a little black dress with a well defined waist and slightly flared at the hips. It was a very feminine dress and Agnes felt wonderful in it. She felt sophisticated and older than her age and she liked that feeling. She could see from Frederick’s expression that he liked the black dress very much as well, which pleased her. However, Agnes had already taken note of the price tag and although it was a dream dress, she definitely could not afford it and put it out of her mind.

Once Agnes told Fredrick that she had tried on everything she had picked out, he had her go change back into her own dress and asked Darlene, one of the assistants to put all the outfits Agnes had modelled on a rack. He wanted to know which one Agnes would choose. She pointed to a summer dress that she thought she would be able to wear often and which was a reasonable price. It was a sensible and affordable choice for her.

Frederick wanted to know if she liked the skirt and blazer and she said she said, but she preferred the dress. He also questioned her about the black dress. She was becoming concerned because she had already decided on the dress using her own criteria.

“I’m not trying to change your mind or make you pick something you don’t want,” he assured her and she relaxed again. He pulled Agnes closer to him and with his hand on the back of her neck he told the two girls that they were taking the two dresses and the blazer outfit.

This panicked Agnes and her response was immediate. “I can’t afford these dresses.” Frederick tried to calm her by telling her that it was his treat and that she could consider it an early birthday present. But, still Agnes was unconvinced. He told her that they were expensive and that she couldn’t let him do this.

Now, Frederick was more assertive with her. “It is not a matter of you letting me do this or not. It is what I am doing.”

It was these words that made Agnes realize that this situation was quite outside of her control. She was in no place to tell Frederick what he could do. She stopped such talk immediately and feeling a surge of warmth towards him she hugged him tightly. “You are so good to me,” she whispered into his ear.

She felt wonderfully indulged. It had never occurred to her that a man would be so generous to her and of course, the thought that he wanted her to have these outfits and that she would wear them when out with him, her heart was glowing with pride.

When Frederick instructed her to go with Darlene to gather some lingerie to go with the outfits she had the thought that this must be what it feels like to be a princess and be able to purchase whatever her heart desired. The experience was like a fairy tale to her. At that moment she thought herself the luckiest girl in the world.

The never-ending fantasy

All things being equal, you'd think that a girl would get tired of a particular fantasy. Don't you think? But, I never, never do.

We've got a little break in the proceedings of life here: winter term break. There is more of an opportunity to sleep in a little; get a little more sleep and on waking, let the mind wander and settle where it will.

And, where does the girl's mind go? Well, would you care to follow me?

I am at the estate of a man He is a very nice man: handsome, well spoken, learned and well respected within his industry. His home is comfortable but not at all ostentatious. It is an 'old money' sort of home where the rugs are a little worn but they are so precious, they look best that way.

I am not sure exactly why this particular man was chosen for me but my father has informed me that this is a good marriage, that my husband is a good and suitable man and that I should listen carefully to what he says and obey him. He assures me that even though he may ask me to do things that are unusual or even uncomfortable, that it is for the best. I should trust his judgement in choosing this man for me, no matter what happens. It is all for a reason, he says.

Certainly, the courtship was a desirable thing. He is a most courteous man and extremely considerate. The wedding is quite beautiful and day by day, I find myself more and more attached to the man. Our relationship is quite formal in tone but he is most certainly attentive and kind to me.

For a time, he allows me to settle into his routines. He enjoys the rituals and routines of a day and it is not at all difficult to follow that lead: to rise at a certain time, to eat at a certain time and to go to bed at a certain time.

He is not one to raise his voice but he does make it clear when something I do is not to his tastes or requirements. Day by day, he begins to guide me as to how to behave in his company.

A few weeks after we have returned from the honeymoon (time spent lazing in and touring Tuscany) he introduces me to a woman who he has employed to be his housekeeper and who will assist me with my "role".In fact, we already have a weekly cleaner and a part time cook, but this woman will oversee matters, he says. I wonder to myself if this is really necessary and what I might do with my time but I say nothing. He is not a man a young girl would consider questioning so early in the marriage.

One day, he calls the woman into our bedroom and has her take measurements of my body and a week later he brings home from a business trip in the city what he explains to me is a corset. It will bring my waist in four inches, he informs me and give me more of an hour glass figure. As well, he explains, it will "contain" me; remind me of my "place" and "purpose".

He watches as the woman, whom I am to simply call "Madame" pulls the corset tighter and tighter until I feel very constricted. "That will be fine for now," he says to her. "Give her time to get used to the constriction before you make it any tighter. There is  no hurry."

I wonder how it could possibly be the case that the garment could be tied any tighter than it is already but I say nothing, quite intimidated by the pair to dare to complain. I look in the mirror and am surprised to feel a sense of pride at my appearance especially when I hear the words,

"She is beautiful, Sir. She has great potential."

"Indeed. I chose carefully before I  selected my bride."

Edwin then turns to me and with his hands around my tiny waist, and his lips close to my ear, "My darling, you make me very proud. I will guide you and protect you and in my care you will open and blossom like a flower. All you need do is what you are told. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir, I understand."

"That's my girl."

(to be continued, perhaps...)

New nails: new state of mind

I got a divine new set of acrylic nails today, a centimetre long. No one told me to do it. I wanted to do it. I went to the nail salon and told them that I thought it was time I had a new set and when it was time to cut the new nails I ensured that the length was adequately long.


Did I have in my mind that I am required to have nails of a certain length? Of course. Requirements are well understood. But, let there be no mistake. This was for me. I wanted this and I needed this. I adored every moment of the process and once I had my shiny new long acrylic nails, I immediately felt more like myself. There was clarity of thought, a more positive attitude, a sense of my place, of my purpose and what works for me. I felt softer and kinder, more sympathetic, accepting and understanding. I felt more relaxed, happy and content; much more bimbo!

Is this a rational thinking process? Well, it is to me. My nails are my constant reminder of all that I have learned thus far. They remind me that my submission is a good thing; a noble thing; a calming and therapeutic thing; that I have limits and that my limits serve me well. It heals me and comforts me; lifts me up to a elevated place where I feel loved and loveable; centred and at peace.

N, gess wut? Tinki cindi jus rown da corner lookin 2 pley 2...

Pain and punishment

I am actually working flat chat right now with no time to spare, but a couple of migraine headaches in the past week has forced me to slow down and thus I found myself having a read of new blog posts on my blog roll this evening for a bit of light entertainment. I happened to notice Pygar’s ‘pain and punishment’ and had a good ole read there. Why is that topic so endlessly fascinating to me, I’d like to know?! I left Pygar a comment – thoughts on the top of my head and the tip of my tongue - and then I thought it might be fun to elaborate on them a bit here.

A good many submissives have an innate understanding, perhaps learned through experience that the Dominant is often not just playing around. He really does want the submissive to learn to do things his way and if she doesn’t do things his way, she may well find herself being corrected in a way that will be memorable and unpleasant. Even in the most relaxed of situations, and I think of my husband and I as fairly relaxed about D/s in the sense that there are very few ‘rules’ per se, he expects that I will behave in a way that accepts that we have a certain dynamic and when push comes to shove, he’s the boss.

This dynamic is always there but I think there is just something or other in the makeup of the submissive mind that feels obliged to test out the Dominant from time to time. For example, my husband had been away for 5 weeks when he arrived home last Friday night and proceeded to have his way with me. It is what I wanted. Desperately. And yet, there came a moment when I said, “I’m not sure that this is appropriate. Shouldn’t we just cuddle a while?”

If he’d ‘wimped out’ on me I would have been a mess but true to form he upped the tempo and therein he assured me that he was the boss and that I had better just toe the line; fast! Perfect. That is just how I needed it to go. I wasn’t manipulating him. I didn’t plan it to be that way but my mind simply had to know if he was still up to the task of being the guy I needed. In this way, I think women sometimes misbehave because they need to see the outcome of the misbehaviour and if that is pain and punishment, so be it.

However one plays out ‘pain and punishment’ it seems to come down to issues of the dynamic between the two people. I made the comment on Pygar’s page that I dance with the Dom according to well learned steps. Once that dynamic is well in place, there seems less and less need to try to alter those steps. One can perhaps move in different ways but if it is a tango, it is a tango and if it is a waltz, it’s a waltz. One can move around the dance floor as the mood takes one, but one still has to use the appropriate steps.

My dynamic with my mentor, as an example, is clear. There is a degree of respect inbuilt into the dynamic and we never deviate from that. Well, I did once, unwittingly. It was one of those moments in life when one of my buttons had been pressed and I reacted fast and furious. My reply dripped with sarcasm but I was too busy being incensed to even take that in. I soon learned that sarcasm was completely and utterly unacceptable to him.

Did I learn because I was corrected or because he was so very clearly upset with me? Well, I’d say it was both. Bottom line, I recognized that my behaviour should never, ever be repeated and I have not had the slightest desire to ever put that to the test. It was a step I was unsure about. We stopped. He intervened, taught me the step in slow motion such that I would always have that step down and we moved on. I must say that I approve of this method. I like learning how to dance well. It is comforting and reassuring to walk out on that dance floor and have the confidence to dance well.

Over time, my husband and I have done all sorts of things; a few daily swats, a weekly correction, punishment for misbehaviour and fairly long bouts where our dynamic has no punishment or real pain at all. They have all had their place in our lives as we evolve. But I think most of all, I want to be thought of as “good”; as knowing what he wants and fitting snugly into my place underneath his wing. I just want to be loved; turned on; aroused, pleasing.

Sometimes, that means there is pain and sometimes that even means there is some form of punishment; or both. But, at the end of the day it is about getting that feeling of ownership that reminds me that I am one of the lucky ones: owned; cherished; much loved.