The sacral chakra

When you find yourself on a 'spiritual journey' of some sort it's a clear indication that something about your inner or outer life has gone wrong. Catherine Ingram, a woman who has met nearly all the great spiritual leaders in terms of interviewing them likes to say, 'I hang out with the broken hearted'.

It's almost guaranteed that an exploration outwards on this spiritual journey leads you inward. Meditation, of course, is a going inward experience. In the course of meditation I think most people search for the nothingness phenomena only to realize that the mind doesn't stop for more than a few breaths at a time.

In fact, it becomes an exercise in acceptance. The mind doesn't stop but it gets quieter as breathing is deeper and more relaxed. The thoughts in the mind are more available and so we notice the thoughts, the madness of the mind, and we find that it doesn't really matter after all. We can't control the thoughts - didn't ask for them, aren't responsible for them - and so we can begin to laugh at the absurdity of them.

Somewhere in the process you learn more about yourself on the spiritual journey. Most likely, it is the behavior of other people that led you to go off and explore the spiritual life, but isn't it ironic that it all leads back to you, your understanding that forgiveness of others is a gift to yourself, for example.

Katie Byron is famous for her very simple and profound realization that life is much happier and calmer if we remind ourselves constantly, until it becomes second nature, that we need to look after our own business, and not that of other people. There's no tolerance for trying to change or modify others, for spending time trying to fix people. As she says, if you busy yourself worrying about other people's lives, who is it that is living your life?

When things get chaotic and dramatic in your life, I do feel that there is good cause to investigate that, if for no other reason than to stop the drama. Some people have more tolerance for drama. As a younger person I did better with drama than I do in my older years. Eventually, drama wore me down and I needed to put an end to it.

I became almost an expert in the reasons for drama in one's soul and behavior, and once I had that sorted out, I became adept in stopping the drama to the extent possible. There is a warning here, a pitfall that comes with this sort of knowledge and expertise. In the same ways that stars in  the eyes will protect young love, it is easier to love someone when one is ignorant of what is going on. Disconnection occurs when conversation fails. You are on your own.

For those with an open and forgiving heart, almost too much empathy, it is a shock and a deeply felt sense of discomfort to realize that the heart can close down. Defensive measures used to end drama and chaos of those with limited awareness or consciousness can create a blockage in the sacral chakra. This comes as a great shock.

Accepting reality, the 'what is', the question becomes, how does one maintain boundaries such that chaos and drama is kept at bay at the same time as one endeavors to open the heart again; puts on display again the sort of vulnerability that allows for intimacy that is actually deeply desired? This is part of a closed heart chakra, the push and pull.

It's interesting that as a blockage is acknowledged, an opportunity is created for the heart to begin to open up again, much like a flower. It is not likely to be a gush of momentum, for the heart is tender now. More like a soft breeze that flows through an open window, felt gently on the skin. It feels good. It feels like a delightful change in the atmosphere of the inner landscape. One begins to feel that healing is occurring.

Owned

It is a very novel experience to be holidaying on my own in a foreign country. I am staying with my daughter but I have seen very little of her so far as she has a rather long working day, but time together is on its way. Some holidays have been approved and we have two long weekends together to look forward to.

I am tickled pink to be able to report that I not only met an online friend for the very first time but I met my first online friend, the charming Abel of Spanking Writers and his delightful wife, Haron for lunch yesterday.

I contacted Abel some years ago now asking him if he might like to swap notes and explain a few things to me, back when I was as green as grass to all things kink and being the gentleman that he is, he kindly obliged. We don't correspond all that regularly but I have always known that if I need advice, Abel is merely an email away. So, it was not at all a surprise to me to find that he is just as delightful, sweet, friendly and helpful in person as he is online.

Being able to speak to someone in person, other than my husband, just as I am completely was pure gold. We chatted away as very dear friends and whilst the conversations moved from topic to topic, we effortlessly moved over topics that I could never have done with my vanilla friends. I hadn't realized how liberating that was going to feel.

And now, another opportunity comes along and a reader is meeting me for a drink and a stroll around Hyde Park. I need to pinch myself to believe this is happening. Not to mention that I have been invited to a gathering of kinky people next week. It is all so very exciting!

I've just said goodbye to my husband on Skype telling him of all my news and I told him how lovely it feels to be "owned" and he said to me it is lovely for him to be an "owner".

We never know why things happen as they do but the lovemaking that occurred in the 24 hours before we left was as sweet and complete as any love making has ever been between us. Perhaps, we knew it had to be good to last two weeks or more. Perhaps, it is our time in the sun to luxuriate and radiate in the mysteries of each other and of life itself. As we said to one another, "good things come to those who wait".

I am very happy; adoring the time to go at my own pace, to explore and to have an adventure. It is all the more wonderful to me because as I go about London on my own, marvelling at it all, I know in my heart and my soul that I am an owned girl and a very loved owned girl at that. It just doesn't get any better than that.

Control

It was wonderful to talk with O (O = owner) on the phone last night and feel the energy in his voice. Those nasty types really have played a very dirty hand but he and others have come out of their shock, of their sense that they are doomed and begun to fight back. I know that I am not meant to have a voice in the business but on this one, I think a lot of my anxiety stemmed from believing so strongly that they should ignore the threats and fight back. They were all throwing away years of very hard work and dedication and I just couldn't see that as being the right response. On the phone last night, I felt able to support his efforts to right the wrong as best he could. It may not be perfect, but it can't be as bad as letting those men walk all over them with their underhand, bully boy tactics!

One of the facts about life that I have found so hard to accept is that we are not all brought up with the same moral code. We don't all know wrong from right. For some people the code is, 'the end justifies the means'. As a submissive, it can be hard to know what the right response is. How lovely it would be to remain in a submissive bubble! But, one does have to be on the alert for people with a different code and that means that submission is something that we can't always live.

It is my nature to be polite to people and to try to get what I need or want from people by being co-operative and considerate and so on. Sometimes, those behaviours are seen as weakness. People with their own interpretation of a 'moral code' can take advantage of what appears to be a 'submissive' type. For this reason, I think it important that a submissive person (a slave or bottom or what have you) continue to sharpen her assertiveness and her ability to demonstrate conviction of her cause. A good Dominant is likely to encourage that, I think, because it is so very difficult to live in this world without those skills. O tends to think of himself as my protector because I can't handle the cruel side of the world and that is partly true but as well, I am a survivor and I do want to succeed rather than fail.

As well, I think feeling that one is capable in the world to stand on one's own two feet and to defend one is part of what makes a strong individual and keeps depression away. Depression is often founded on feeling hopeless and a sense of feeling hopeless comes from feeling that there is nothing one can do to make things better. Being no more than an observer is very stressful to me when I feel that I have something meaningful and worthwhile to contribute.

I have tried not talking to O at all about business matters but whilst I can happily remain in a bubble for so long, reality waits for me. I think we have to keep the communication channels open, for me to remain respectful but able to give my point of view. This has risks and must be delicately handled but if we don't do this, O is at risk of being isolated in his thoughts. I continue to believe that a third party; someone who cares about him and is watching his back, should be able to speak. No one in this world cares about him more than I do. I do not want control but without a voice, I feel nothing but despair when things are going wrong and I feel denied the opportunity to help.

The saying goes that 'two heads are better than one' and in our case, so long as the second head remains respectful and handles matters delicately, I think that is the best policy. It feels incredibly hopeful and very, very right that whilst our roles remain and he will ultimately make the final decisions on our behalf, we live out those roles united as to an approach. I think it is a relief to him to have an open exchange of ideas and that whilst he enjoyed that I was happy in my submissive bubble removed from worry, he may have felt somewhat estranged. The power exchange is right for us but the extreme delineation of roles was very stressful and unsustainable.

Frederick and Agnes: Agnes sleeps over

It had been a long day for Agnes. She took her job seriously and wanted very much to impress her new employer. Since she had settled in Paris she had become accustomed to getting off to bed by 11 pm at the latest. When Agnes left the restaurant she felt a little out of control. She could barely keep her eyes open and she felt unsteady on her legs.

She did not want to tell Frederick that she felt a little unwell; that she was not used to drinking much alcohol and that it had an immediate effect on her. She tried to hide her unsteadiness by holding onto his arm. She was not really conscious that she also leaned on his shoulder or even that they were walking much slower than before. She was just doing her best to stay upright and appear that she had it together.

When they reached Frederick’s building, he had her go up the stairs first. She held onto the rail beside the winding staircase and at no point let go. She had grown used to these winding wooden staircases that led one upwards; little steps that were not at all uniform, especially around the corners but she was especially particular about her footing this evening, placing her foot carefully on one step before she moved upwards onto the next.

She had been there once before, of course, but she was grateful when Frederick gave her a direction as to where to go. She just wasn’t thinking straight and felt rather embarrassed when she opened the wrong door. She was aware that he had taken her by the arm rather forcibly to redirect her and she got a sense that he was unimpressed. She gave herself a little shake as if to insist that her mind not fail her. Frederick took her sweater and asked if she would like a hot chocolate.

“That sounds lovely but may I use your bathroom first, Frederick?”

He escorted her to the bathroom and turned on the light and left. She was very grateful to be alone for a few minutes. She sat on the toilet for a time and rested. The thought came to her that she should drink some water. She wiped herself and washed her hands and then she cupped them to make a makeshift glass and drank as much water as she could. She felt a little better. She was grateful to feel more alert.

She noticed that the bathroom led onto a bedroom. She wanted to go in and have a good look around but she also knew that it would be wrong to walk into Frederick’s bedroom without being invited. She put her head around the corner of the door and took it in from where she stood. It seemed an acceptable compromise in her mind.

He was without doubt a very orderly sort of man. It was a man’s bedroom; neutral tones in dark colours and everything was where it should be. The bed had been made; no clothes were in sight. Even the cushions on the upholstered chair in the corner appeared to have been fluffed. Agnes’ eyes moved about the room taking in the stack of books beside his bed, the reading glasses on top of them. She noticed an odd piece of furniture; an unusual shaped chair with a high back on one end but none on the other. Her eye was drawn to it and she found herself returning to look at it several times, trying to determine its purpose.

Agnes suddenly wondered how long she had been away. It would be dreadfully embarrassing to be caught being a ‘nosy parker’ and she moved away quickly and down the hall to find Frederick.

“May I help you?” she asked demurely.

Frederick merely gestured to her to go to the sitting area and she left him and went to take in the view of the city. Paris at night was a city like no other and she enjoyed looking at the little balconies on adjacent buildings. The buildings were so close together that she was able to look out and quite clearly observe people smoking on a balcony directly opposite them and another couple kissing.

She felt she was intruding watching them and she moved away and sat down on a couch and looked for something to glance at while she waited. All the magazines were about design and architecture and when Frederick glanced in on her she asked him about it. It delighted her to discover that he was very passionate about design; that he had many interests. She loved learning these snippets of information about him.

Agnes enjoyed Frederick’s company. She found it easy to talk to him but she was desperately sleepy too and she could feel her eyes start to close on her. She tried hard to force herself to stay awake and alert but it was almost painful to force her eyes to stay open. She tried to make her eyes go very wide as if to will them to stay open but she could feel herself starting to go under and she had no control over the feeling. She decided to just close her eyes for a moment.

When Agnes woke up, she woke in fear. She lay there, conscious of only one fact: that she was not in her own bed. She lay for several seconds trying to remember what had gone on last night and where she actually was. In a moment of relief she recalled that she was in Frederick’s apartment. He must have put the comforter over her, and a pillow under her head. She felt embarrassed that she had fallen asleep but also thought it so sweet of him to tuck her in as he had and make her more comfortable.

This experience was so novel for Agnes she had no rules to follow of what she should do. She barely knew Frederick and yet she felt so comfortable and safe with him. It really did not make any sense, even to her and she could only imagine what her father would say if he knew. And yet, she had a desperate longing to find Frederick and to be closer to him. She got up and walked to the bedroom only to discover that the room was exactly as she had seen it earlier that night. He was not there. The discovery panicked Agnes for a moment. Had he gone and left her there all alone?

But, as she left the room she was aware of a presence in the alcove to the room and she realized it was Frederick who had also gone to sleep in his clothes on the day bed. She felt a great tenderness towards him at that moment and it prompted her to retrieve the comforter with which he had covered her. She lay down beside him and covered them both. He did not awaken and she returned to slumber easily with him by her side.

When she woke in the morning and Frederick conjured the plan of them spending the whole day together she barely resisted and against all previous thoughts of diligence towards her work, quite easily told her employer a little white lie. She wanted so much to be there with him. When Frederick said in jest to tell Andre that she had been "kidnapped" she smiled, but the truth was that she was aroused. The idea of being kidnapped appealed to her more than she dare let on to him. She loved his use of the word “guidance” too. She had no idea why, but she was responding to him in ways that left her speechless; wanting; ready.

Openness

If I understand correctly, what I am now being asked to do is to reach out and grab freedom - to let go completely and say whatever is on my mind; to not restrain myself or hold myself back but to simply reveal myself.

I've been around these parts long enough to know that 'openness' is part of the deal. The submissive is meant to open herself to the dominant/top and put herself in his hands. It is the beauty of the dynamic, is it not, that one soul can reveal itself to another, warts and all?

I think my hesitation and even confusion and resistance to the idea right now is that I have felt that I have made progress in my life - with relationships, with self-control, with finding my happiness and peace - by holding myself back. I learned to not refuse ideas just because they were not comfortable at the outset. I learned to accept my husband's will and way by holding myself back. And, I learned to stifle emotional pain by holding myself in check in various ways. If, for example, I was hurt by someone, I learned to find ways to compensate, or understand or even not to allow it to hurt me by hiding the hurt away.

It is fair to say that I have dealt with some of life's more difficult moments by burrowing deep inside of myself and putting on a pretty darn good show that I was perfectly all right and well able to cope.Then, in a moment of great vulnerability (I write this on the one day of the year that is personally difficult for me), I found myself being asked to not hold back any longer.

But, what if I said something that was not at all pleasing? What if I sounded impolite or disrespectful, I wanted to know. Then, in that case I should take my correction and learn from it. Dolls learn from correction, do they not?

Dolls do. But, I have kept a cocoon of safety around myself for so long now, I find myself wondering if I really can sloth it off.

One evening, long ago, I was with my mother alone at her house and it was completely still. The only sound was the fire. My little family was on the other side of the world and my very sick father was fast asleep.

"There's something very wrong, isn't there?" my mother asked me.

I began to shake. My mind tried to sloth off the hard shell of protection yet at the same time held onto it with all its might. And, finally, in a tiny voice that did not belong to me, I told her what I had held onto with a tight grip for several excruciating months. She listened patiently and reminded me that there was nothing she had not heard. The business she ran meant she knew about people and what happens in people's lives all too well. I unburdened myself and in so doing I think I freed myself from torturous pain.

This morning, whilst I did my Pilates class, my emotions were right at the surface and several times, I teared up. I fought with them until it was the relaxation component and my eyes were closed and then I let them fall down the sides of my face until there came a moment when I knew I had to get myself under control. I began to breathe deeply. I began to visualize calm and I listened to the instructor's words.

I was on a mountain top when she said, "Set yourself free". With the glider on my back, I took the lead of faith and soared into the open air, gliding effortlessly. I had set myself free. The tears dried up and I felt only exhilaration.

I didn't stop for coffee but hurried home to write here, only to find a message from my daughter in London - a divine message that any mother in the world would hope for with all her heart. And, now the tears flow again - good tears.

To be loved; to love: it is all I have ever wanted. So, perhaps it is time: time to embrace the openness that a good power exchange relationship demands. The time has come and what a perfect day to choose as the first step in the next chapter of this glorious dynamic they call a power exchange.

The truth shall set you free

I am controlled in large measure by the expectations of my husband and children. But, what of my thought processes? Do I, in fact, impose control on myself?

When I was a young girl, it seemed to me that my role was to be the ‘good child’. My sibling was not ‘wild’ but comparatively speaking, he was. So, I think I tried to make up for this. I saw my mother suffered when he was uncooperative and that made me want to co-operate, if only for her sake. In any case, I did not want to be bad. I had no desire to be at all rebellious. When I began to explore my sexuality I did it without confronting my family. As far as parenting me goes, they had a dream run.

I married fairly young. Almost immediately, we fell into a mode where I took responsibility for many household responsibilities. I don’t think we ever sat down with me suggesting that I would do all the cooking, cleaning, washing, shopping and so on. In fact, it never entered my mind that I would not be responsible for those things. Certainly, my husband never fought the notion.

When the children came into our lives, I saw the vast majority of their parenting as my responsibility, too. It just never occurred to me that I would be anywhere else of an evening than looking after my family. I rejected evening classes, or socializing with girlfriends of an evening on all but a handful of occasions.

I remember when we lived in another country; the next door neighbour suggested that we walk in the neighbourhood together directly after dinner. Her husband was prepared to do the dishes whilst she was away. But, I made an excuse immediately. I just couldn’t imagine such a situation in my household.

Last week, my daughter came down the back staircase and as I heard her coming, I moved away from the desk and my writing, to get busy in the kitchen. I have done this many times before. Late last week, she took me to lunch, and she talked to me quietly.

“Mum, when you hear one of us coming, you immediately move away from your desk and do something. But, you are entitled to some happiness, to do something that pleases you. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

Oh my! My daughter was onto me! Finally, someone had seen that my reactions were so often related to guilt. Was my house clean enough? Were my children and husband happy? Was I a good mother? A good wife? Could I keep all the balls in the air and perhaps in the few quiet moments of my life, eek out some personal happiness of my own? Did I deserve to take the time to write? Did I, in fact, deserve to be happy?

Janus and I had a chat yesterday, and he said that he thinks that I worry about telling the truth about myself. He thinks that I worry that people won't accept it.

“You may need practice telling things that aren't comfortable, aren't acceptable. You may need some experience talking about your feelings where you aren't going to get punished for it.”

I think he may be right. I know that I do keep my feelings to myself for fear of being punished; not fear of the cane or some other implement; fear of being rejected.

One facet of D/s relationships that is so appealing to me is that the girl is supposed to be open with her man and that this leads to a closer connection. It has not always worked out that way for us. My husband wants a happy girl and sometimes the truth implies that is not entirely so. It challenges him and the conversation can end badly. Yet, I believe in D/s. I believe in the power of it to make for much happiness and contentment. “The truth shall set you free.” I’m going to put my faith in that statement, and like Indiana Jones take that giant leap of faith. I honestly don't think I would be doing this without Janus, for I do this knowing that, should I fall, he will be there to catch me.

Confusion

I have just finished reading an email from one of my readers. It was a lovely insightful email and I greatly appreciate receiving it.

It seems that I have been confusing the hell out of readers. I didn't actually realize that but I think I know why that may be the case.

A blog is an opportunity to put one's thoughts out there on paper. It is also an opportunity to have a dialogue with one's readers and I'd like to take this opportunity to say to those who read here that I'd greatly appreciate your questions and challenging comments. Your support is greatly appreciated, but if you have something challenging to say, be my guest!

All my life, I have prescribed to the theory that words on paper are risky. Yes, I tell you some of the things on my mind, but I hold back, too.

If I were to say to you, as I will say now, that I am disappointed in my husband's lack of commitment to my submission, will the sky fall? Will it help us or will it destroy us? That is my dilemma. Honesty is a two-edged sword.

I appreciate my dear reader's feedback more than I can say. How often in life does one have this opportunity to receive such honest and meaningful feedback?

I am going to try harder to tell you readers, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I can only hope that such 'openness' leads to good things.

And, you be honest and open with me, too! Okay?