Aspirational Statement

 It's quite lovely the efforts the hypnotist is making re this 'Contract', which we all agree is so poorly named. It's more a statement, an explanation, an Aspirational Statement. Yes, that seems the best description.

I decided on my 'Dealbreaker'. The hypnotist assures me it is likely, when Trust is 150% assured, that we are likely to want to have secondary partners, to get more experimental; for the Control to extend to such scenarios of which I can only imagine, although D describes them luridly while I just quietly chuckle. (There's just so way!) I assure him this won't happen, and he assures me that that's what they all say, and yet 70% of clients change their minds.

With this in mind my Dealbreaker would be if I ever became secondary to my husband; if someone else was more desirable than me; if he loved someone more than he loved me. 

I say this because it is my strongest feeling of what I want in my life - abiding love and desire - and what I don't want - heartache - but also because I have been reading the blog of a Slave who was under the misapprehension for several years that her Owner desired other women, loved other women, more than he loved her. Before he died, he was able to assure her she always came first in his heart, but still she lived with that heartache for several years, and I definitely want no part of that scenario.

The hypnotist's strongest advice is to write down 'preferences' and not 'Rules', but my husband is disagreeing at this point. D believes that if it is a Rule, there's a punishment, each and every time for the breaking of a rule, for the rest of our lives. Hence, call them preferences, and then he make an assessment that has more flexibility, more give and take. They are working it out.

I have made a lot more suggestions - plenty of them now and they will be written down for appraisal and potential adjustment. We have committed, that is, given our pledge of honor, to D/s forever, so it has to be right. It has to signify our aspirations just so. It has to be a thing of beauty; a thing we build together.

Our relationship already feels a 1000% better than anything that ever went before it. I feel so much more myself and he does too. It's feeling quite quite wonderful. It goes like this - no matter in which era I live - in ancient times or in modern times - I am living out my nature, my true and authentic self - and growing. I am growing as a woman and that feels right.

Who grows and who does not?

If you're telling a story it is part of the deal that your protagonist is going to experience challenge and in the end some, if only very small, growth or transformation. We change from moment to moment, never quite the same on one day than another. So, it's expected that our characters don't stay stagnant, since nobody really does (or do they?), especially if they face hurdles. Hurdles in life almost demand that we confront the challenges and learn something from them. If we don't learn, then the challenges will come back at us until we do. Some people believe that we live multiple lives until we learn our lessons. Some people say that the soul can never be perfect, no matter how far we strive. This does not stop some people from trying, the polar opposite of the person who sees no reason at all to change.

I am not talking about perfection. I am talking about growth. It might be learning to get outside your own head and think of others, walking in their shoes. That's a pretty big lesson for some people; monumental. If, at the end of the novel the protagonist leans into the possibility of walking in another person's shoes, or of recognizing the pain to others that they have caused, or of making the admittedly enormous effort of living a life that takes into account those that they live with, that would be enough, in my book. I'm not an action writer. I'm fascinated by incremental, almost imperceptible change.

Remember when Richard Kimble said, 'I didn't do it', and Deputy Gerard replied, 'I don't care'? We note that. We note also the moment when it finally dawns on Gerard that Kimble is telling the truth. He bent. He stretched. He moved away from his rigid position and he entertained the possibility that he was wrong. I think that is why 'The Fugitive' was so successful. We saw this wonderful transformation of a rather rigid, pain in the ass man.

Now, read this advice to a person who is the kindly partner of a person with a personality disorder:

"You can't control what s/he thinks about you, how s/he acts or says or wants. Stop trying to change the N/B (narcissist/borderline). You can ONLY control YOURSELF. Also, stop trying to make the N/B feel better. You cannot do anything to make them feel better. It can't be done."

IT CAN'T BE DONE. Preordained, yes? Not much chance of a story line there.

So, what about the kindly partner? Can she transform in some way? There are many possibilities here, endless possibilities, and yet...it's so predictable. Of course she can transform. She has been morphing on a daily basis in the interests of everyone else. Hmmm, perhaps she puts herself first, finally? And yet, I'm such a fan of the Deputy Gerard transformation just because all along it seemed so implausible; so unlikely.

Surely, surely there is some way these dark characters can see the light.

"The good doctors" are demonstrating that awareness is possible; transformation, not so much. That sucks. Then again, they made a series of movies about Hannibal Lector, didn't they? All is not lost as far as a story arc goes, so long as you enjoy the permanently dark character. Personally, I'm not a big fan.

Contrived categories

I'm going through a period of time where I take nothing for granted, where I question all orthodoxies, and I quite simply observe, both myself and others. I'm not judging others, far from it. I take a 'live and let live' point of view. I'm simply being attentive to the thoughts running through my head and keeping an open mind as to my feelings; identifying my own needs and what works well for me.

If you think about narcissism as being a scale of 1-10 and healthy narcissism being somewhere in the midde - 5 - then I've been an 'echoist', operating about on a 3. Inevitably, that type of operating in the world proved to be very uncomfortable for me and it was this discomfort that led me to seek out ways to function more in the 'healthy narcissism' category, closer to the middle. I certainly didn't want to suddenly be any sort of leader but nor did I want to experience the emotional pain of feeling that I didn't have a voice.

I discovered that I had arrived in the echoist's frame of thinking through a combination of having been born with an introverts' quiet nature and to a family that encouraged me to be independent early and to leave them to do what they felt they had to do. I was encouraged to be good, quiet, to accept, to not complain and to be an academically high achieving child. I complied.

Ultimately, I found myself craving an intense sexual experience as well as the subordinate position in a personal relationship; to dance with the polar opposite of myself; a leader that was extroverted and demanding. I did everything I could to be pleasing, accepted the manipulation of my mind as part of the contract. It was uncomfortable at times, confusing and upsetting. But, I had some sort of vague sense that if I kept with the program, stayed true to the course, all would be revealed to me in good time. I didn't quite know where I was going but I was on my way and that's what mattered to me; to get somewhere where there would be some clarity concerning the purpose of this long expedition on which I was fixated.

It was something of a shock to realize that the journey had been, in so many ways, about my own self-doubts. Nearly everything that hadn't worked well in my life related to my lack of personal power. There it was in a nutshell. I needed to speak my mind, say what worked and didn't work; what I needed and could not cope with; what I believed. I needed a vote; not to cede the vote but rather for my thoughts and opinions to be sought and considered. I needed to have a voice in the matters that had a direct bearing on me. To be 'the doll' for periods of time: no problem. But, to give up the right to voice opinions; to express what I needed, something that only I could possibly know; that was something that I found impossible to give up.

I didn't need, I discovered, to be torn down or punished or crushed/broken. I needed a man to help me see my strengths as well as my weaknesses; to encourage me to see what others see when they interact with me; a confident, capable woman. I just couldn't see that woman, didn't feel that woman. I was totally lacking in self-confidence. David, my dominant friend who died a few years ago now, he saw that lack of self-confidence. That's why I miss him so. I could be my vulnerable self with David. He wasn't afraid or put off by that vulnerability. He worked with it, bless him. He was fond of me as the complete entity that I am. (As egoless as I aim to be, I don't think that you can, or should, negate the importance of those last two words - I am.)

I'm talking now, talking the legs off the iron pot. I'm explaining my discoveries to my husband daily and he's listening to me simply because he can see that this is so very, very important to me; crucial that I talk and talk until I have voiced it all. We're still playing, he's still in charge, but I feel that I am also expressing my personhood now. I feel more comfortable in my skin and more calm in my mind. No longer concerned about fitting into any contrived category, or people pleasing in a sacrificial way (that is, doing what is told even if I am having doubts), I feel authentically me, closer and closer to operating in a healthy narcissism category. That's a good thing. I am certain of it.

Drilling down

First of all, I want to record that I am happy. There are reasons for this sense of happiness, although I see it more of a 'welling' of happiness, something with its own internal logic and not necessarily related to external factors. But, since I'm trying to be 'aware' of this new felt sense of happiness and how that came to pass, let's drill down.

First thing that comes to mind: I've little pressure in my life at this time, especially today. I'm typing away here at my desk, but I've precious little that really needs to be done. I'll go and explore the world a little once I've tapped away on these keys and have myself a little adventure. Love adventures!

Second thought: In this moment, my whole family seems settled and happy. Gosh, that's a fabulous feeling. My eldest son had his 30th birthday in the past week - a great party, just the way he wanted it - and I got to meet/meet up with all his closest friends.  It's fabulous to see how much he is loved and embraced, especially by his girlfriend's family. It was very good karma at that party and at dinner at home one night this week I could see that he had 'lifted'. He's happy.

My daughter has started her second year of teaching, a job she adores. She and her boyfriend have moved into their first house together. They adore one another; very, very connected. My third child has come right of his shell, sewing some wild oats now, fully immersed in a job he loves and so much more social and responsible; all good things. And, my youngest child, my baby, is doing just fine travelling around other countries with his mate. He's registered at his institution of choice and it's all good for him too - he's maturely fabulously.

Third thought: It's no co-incidence that once the family were fully ensconced in their lives that this automatically made way for my husband and me. We've been...happy...together lately, planning things and doing things and very much on the same page. Knowing I had to be out of the house by 10 am yesterday he woke me with some pampering and then a lovely breakfast on a tray in bed. It felt so...loving and tender. The kiss 'good morning' was sweet. We've watched the tennis most nights whilst partaking in a late dinner and although he's popped into his office to check his screens, it's been fine. It's been very...settled...around here this week in all these ways. My mother seemed much better yesterday and happy I agreed to go to a concert with her next week. This gives her something to look forward to and it makes me happy to make her happy. All these things are good. I love seeing the people in my life happy. That makes me happy.

Fourth thought: Schedules and routines begin next week. February brings with it routine, which I appreciate, but until January is done and dusted I'm loving the lack of routine. I'm sorting through the decade of paper on my desk, going through the storage space downstairs, sorting out and altering spaces. It's 'me and my house' time and I love that. I've a relationship with this house too, just as I do people.

Fifth thought: The 'power exchange' side of things hasn't been nearly so intact and yet it hasn't felt...bad. I've felt rebellious lately which I attribute to several factors, not least of which is the reading I've been doing; important articles that have opened my eyes to issues that may have led me down the path of considerable unhappiness in the past. I've been working privately and internally with confronting my fears, standing up for myself and being assertive, which, on the surface, looks like it doesn't meld well with accepting that I don't have any real control. Inside myself, I know there is progress going on, but I'm not ready to express that in words just yet.

I am pondering, however, if the Crystal Bowls Meditation that I did recently has indeed had an effect on me. I noticed I choked a bit during that meditation and thought that strange since that had never happened before, and was later told that the meditation was attuned to the throat chakra. Since the meditation it has felt that I have had to clear my throat several times and that's most unusual for me as well. The throat chakra is the chakra related to speaking one's truth. Speaking out has to be a bit of a shock for any dominant man used to talking to an agreeable, compliant bimbo who asks few questions about the reasons for and desired outcomes of her tasks, but the thoughts that have been held back are rising up and finding expression. Personally, I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing. I think it opens the door for a closer, stronger connection, but the jury is still out and I'm certainly not the judge in session.

I suppose you could say that bimbo took things waaaaay too far when she had a go at usurping control. I can't imagine what she was thinking (that this behaviour would end well? that she'd actually get away with it? that she wanted to get away with it??) except to say that sometimes bimbo doesn't look that far down the track...

I know this much. When push comes to shove...when all factors are considered...when we reach the bottom line...whether she's right or wrong...whether the grievance is handled in a way that is satisfying to her, or not...she's grateful that the dominance remains intact and that she is shown her place. This outcome is deeply satisfying to such an extent that she can bunker down into consequences. She doesn't have to like the consequences to respect them.

Here's the honest truth: Today (and admittedly probably not tomorrow...and the day after...and so forth) she's loving the freedom; revelling in the fact that she's a bimbo on the loose with a whole afternoon in front of her to frolic freely. Yes, she's taking the credit card with her but promises to be judicious with it. Wonder where bimbo can get a slice of gluten free orange cake...(PS Relax, that was a joke, she didn't go near cake. As if...!)

Inertia

Being Mother's Day I spent considerable time with my family yesterday and one of the comments one of my sons made was how frustrated he was that one of his best mates had ended up with his girlfriend. His complaint is that his friend has remained juvenile in many ways and that he needs a girl that can help him to grow, whereas his girlfriend accepts him just as he is.

"I imagine Alison cooks for him..."

"Every night. It's sickening to watch."

Of course, it's comfortable. It's comfortable for them both, really, because Alison is a home body and John (if only you knew how silly it sounds to me to make up these names for real people) likes that he is looked after. But, my son is right, John isn't likely to grow much at all with her and that's a wasted opportunity.

This is one of the big points of having a D/s relationship, isn't it, to grow; to have fun and pleasure, and to grow. For reasons I don't really understand I've desperately wanted to experience, to explore and grow, and I've wanted that for people with whom I engage, not least of which is my husband.

It's not just that we've been together forever and that in that scenario you need to shake things up a bit every so often. It's that it just comes innately to me to grow; to challenge; to want to be challenged. It's not always comfortable for me but it is a lot more comfortable that being static. I thrive on momentum. It can drive my husband mad because I tend to talk about what we can do next. I'm not someone who tends to sit back and rest on my laurels. If he comes out to the garden and I've single handedly stacked the trailer with all the prunings, he might say, "You're a productive little thing, aren't you?!" I need to get stuck into things and move on.

One of the big issues in relationships is the need to cater for one another's energy levels and I think that all our energy levels fluctuate, from time to time. It's totally understandable and normal for this to happen and in the same way, arousal levels fluctuate. The desire for play fluctuates. Stressful periods of time probably mean that a person has less dominance to offer. Personally, I don't find that I have less submissive tendencies during stressful time because the submissive strategies calm my stress. However, I can say that times when I am stuck in deadlines I must put aside submissive needs. We need to be alert to the other person's needs and adjust the temperature accordingly.

However, what if the other person can't change and grow at all? What's been on my mind is that perhaps some people are intrigued and drawn to power exchange relationships because they have a certain neurological disposition that makes a certain degree of rigidity an integral part of their makeup and the way they lead their lives. Perhaps that rigidity will always be the same rigidity, year after year after year. Perhaps, there will be no growth and adjustment because it is built into the DNA that there will be no growth, no matter what.

I was talking around this issues with my son yesterday too. I was telling him about 'The Rosie Project'. The protagonist is a lovely, very intelligent man with Aspbergers who is looking for a girlfriend and I was saying that I struggle with the concept of acceptance, in part. For instance, my dog is silly. There is no two ways about it. She isn't bright and there are still moments of great frustration for me about that. I imagine having a dog who would run with me and act sensibly and although I love her, I can see the pitfalls of having a dog who just isn't that smart. I work against those feelings. I know I shouldn't have them. I can see that the children accept her quirks and I try to see it that way as well. Still.

In the process of this 'journey' of mine I've become a much stronger person, more outgoing. I still thrive when my husband takes charge of the situation, as he did this weekend. I really love being in that submissive mindset, sleeping on his chest, feeling at peace with the world after a session or two of tight containment, in whatever form that takes. Just as importantly, I love it when I feel that he's operating with some momentum; that he's moving and growing and that there is a sense of a future where we can embrace life and all that it has to offer. I love moving with him, rather than parallel to him. I'll still grow anyway, because that is so important to me to continue to grow, but when one moves in tandem with the other, that's gold. That's when I am truly in my groove.

It's been a bit of a motto of mine for many years to say that one shouldn't force friendships or have high expectations. People are as they are, and provided you've done your best, you have to accept the friendship for what it is. Friendships come in all shapes and sizes and part of friendship is not to expect too much. Intellectually, I know this. Yet, I also know myself too well to truly believe my own words. The truth is I sometimes engage in a difficult relationship because I'm intrigued; because I think it might provide growth; because I want to see it grow, on both sides. But, what if one day you wake up and smell the roses and realize that there are limitations to how much you should expect because perhaps there are neurological issues that don't allow for that growth?

What I am up against is the realization that I never accepted a poor prognosis about anything. I turned it into a winning situation because there is something inside my brain that tells me that I can. Not one to sit by and watch failure I made it right. I made it good. Maybe, I needed to deconstruct the situation and reform the situation but that's much easier, as hard as it is, than conceding defeat.

What's that old saying - God only gives you what you can handle? My third child was born with a few challenges but he never let that get on top of him. I remember talking to a boarding house Master on the sidelines of a soccer game a while back and we were talking about resilience. I was saying that that son has buckets of it and I didn't know where on earth he had got it all. What made him continue to try and try when others would have conceded defeat? "You gave that to him," he said to me. "No, it was nothing to do with me," I replied. "It's always been there."

But, today I am wondering, maybe I did give him that resilience. Maybe, I did. Maybe, as a mother I passed down to them the will to make it, whatever it means to them, to make it. Maybe, instinctively, I passed onto them the desire to stretch oneself. I'm not one to subscribe to neurological limitations; to simply accept that people can't thrive and learn, in their own way. Maybe dogs can't grow new neurons but put people in the right environments and there's something more that they can do, be, give, think and learn. Surely. A deep dislike of inertia. That's my Achilles heel.

Writing and thinking about yourself

Isn't it interesting what the Internet can allow us to do. We can fabricate a persona. We can declare that we believe in ideas or a way of life that simply are merely a figment of our imagination. We can make our lives sound more interesting or more intense than they really are. It's a bit of sport, I guess. Or, perhaps it is a bit like crafting a story. Maybe the reality isn't nearly so interesting as the story. Change a few details, turn things around, give it a different ending and you've got the hallmarks of a story.

It hasn't been this way for me; not at all. I've written the odd story or anecdote but it was clear that this was what it was - or, it was to me. The rest has been my very real and intensely true feelings and experiences. I'm not always proud of those feelings but I declare them to be true; real; authentic.

I'm not at all sure how many people there truly are out there who genuinely are affected and aided by my words. I receive the odd email that suggests that there has been a strong bond and connection with my words; that what I have felt, so have other people.

I know this. I've experienced something profound. I hold it in my soul now. It's a sense of my complete person - a desire, deeply felt on a daily basis to interact with another human being on this planet that understands me and accepts me for all that I am; who knows me as I know myself. This is an incredibly rare opportunity.

I read copious amounts of spiritual words and they all boil down to the fact that to know yourself is one of life's true gifts. You have to really understand who you are. Strip away everything - the spouse, the children, the possessions, the career and what stands there? Who are you?

This is what this has all been about for me - establishing who I am, what matters to me, the whole me and the expression of that entity.

Robert Bly says that we put all the things that people don't like about us 'in the bag'. So, most of our being goes into the bag by the time we are through our childhood. We spend the first 20 years of our lives putting things in the bag and we spend the rest of our lives trying to take them back out. Unless we do an investigation of ourselves we die with the best part of ourselves locked in the bag.

Why would anyone want this? Don't people want to know who they really are? Is there some reason to always live in the light, frightened of the shadow?

We had a man at work who was the Marketing Manager. A cardboard cut out was made of him for promotional purposes. My boss referred to it as 'the paper cut out of the paper cut out".

No-one should want to be a paper cut out. There must be substance.

Who are you in your entirety? That's the question. Time spent writing about 'you' isn't time wasted, but make it authentic. Make it real. Or, don't waste your time.

Remembering

A few days ago I had the sad task of telling my brother, currently living on the other side of the world, that our Uncle, my mother's brother had passed away. I knew he'd be sad. Thirty-six hours passed and  I received a beautiful email, telling me stories of their exploits together when he was just a boy, stories that I hadn't heard before. The tendency was for my brother to spend time with his Uncle whilst I spent time with my mother's sister and mother. I hadn't thought about this much until now, but that's the way it happened.  I'm currently seeing if I can read his message at the Service because it tells the beautiful story of a deeply caring and fun loving man and the impact he had on his young nephew.

As fate would have it my brother was able to see the very good, fantastical and even magical aspect of his Uncle, whilst a few of his many children only saw the bad and stayed away from him in the last years of his life. I didn't see him often myself but my mother remained a wonderful Sister until his dying moments and I often tagged along with her for a visit or he tagged along with my mother for a visit when she came to see me. He was a good man, his heart was in the right place and there's no doubt that he was a natural oral storyteller. His son is a very famous playwright. We all have, on my mother's side, what my father referred to as "the gift of the gab" in some measure or another.

There is so much I could say at this time but blog posts are meant to be pithy, aren't they, so let me get to the point. After death, there's nothing but a void. There are no last chances, no more opportunities to make the peace, to say what you should have said years before, to be kind, to care, to say goodbye. We are here and then we are gone.Take your opportunities whilst you have them and use them well.

I am very pleased to say that my Uncle's youngest daughter has been very kind in the past year or so and she held an 85th birthday party for him and many of his children and siblings came to that; not all. There were a few notable absences, but this is life. We make our decisions and we must live with them.

He wasn't a particularly notable person - a businessman, a father and a husband who always did his best - but he made the most of every situation, thought the best of everyone and stayed positive in spite of enormous setbacks and difficulties.  My uncle once sent some stories of his younger days to his son, the famous one. He returned them, explaining as tactfully as he could I am sure, that they weren't stories but reminiscences. Of course, there is nothing to stop a good story teller like him making use of those memories and turning them into stories. Now that he has passed over, I have my fingers crossed that this is exactly what will happen to them.

My professor

It would be understandable if it was thought that I had a 'thing' for school masters and/or headmasters. A man in such a role has often featured in the stories I have written and in my fantasies. In fact, I don't have a thing for men in that role at all. I don't recall a single school master who has ever made me feel weak at the knees. I've been attracted in a kinky way to their aura of authority but not specifically them.

In fact, I'm much more likely to be attracted to a professor. I recall one particular professor who lived in the next college and a few of the girls and I would go over there for history tutorials. I got the impression he'd happily bed any number of girls and word around the traps was that he did just that. Is there a better job in all the world than being a live-in history professor in a university college? I doubt it.

When I was at university there was an English professor who gave lots of the lectures. I wasn't remotely attracted to him but I was attracted to the fact that he had a wife who was a tutor in the English department as well. I liked that model and I could imagine that life. He'd sometimes say something like, "Sorry, people. Helen will be right along. She's just rang to say that she had to get the casserole on and she'll be a couple of minutes late."

That sounded perfect; the sort of job where you could pop into the university and give a tutorial and dash back home to take the casserole out of the oven after that. Your husband was a tad more senior than you and you could discuss your work, or a novel or a film and he would be genuinely interested. I distinctly remember feeling a bit jealous of her because she was living the life that I would have happily lived.

My husband would laugh his head off if he read that because the man gave lectures (according to my science student boyfriend who once accompanied me for fun) that were bullsh*t. Well, they were a tad academic and  highfalutin and he was rather 'up himself' but let's not destroy my fantasy, shall we?

I suspect this is where one of my oldest fantasies originated. I worked in the English department of a university and my man was the head of the department (of course). This union was about physical attraction and so on but it had a lot to do with the fact that he liked that I was capable and he expected me to do my very best work and to do it on time. He'd give me a special assignment and he'd rely on me doing it very well.

Prone to procrastination at times, I sometimes took advantage of our relationship and was tardy. He would be over me like a tonne of bricks. It simply wasn't good enough, he would say and he would tell me that I was to sit at my desk and not to move out of my chair until the work was done, at which time he would read it to ensure it was done to the highest standard. At times, I had to revise until it was done to his satisfaction. Interestingly, in my fantasy I never argued the point about this. He was definitely the one in charge.

It's been some time since I have had that little fantasy and I'm not quite sure now whether I was sometimes spanked later or not. As far as I recall, it was really about the intellectual control of me; the fact that he was overseeing my academic and intellectual output; that he demanded that I be the best I could be.

This sort of relationship is not unlike another role model I had early on in our marriage. Opposite the house we bought was a cottage and this lovely man, very well known in arts circles in town who we shall call George lived with his much younger cute blonde haired gal. She had a job in the arts world too and it seemed to me that he acted as her mentor or guiding force, really. They had us in for drinks one Sunday which turned into lunch. George made that and then hurried her along to the radio station to do her little show, not in a highly dominant or controlling way but in a "darling, you best scoot or you'll be late..." sort of way. I liked the way they interacted. I liked the fact that he was very kind to her and happy with her and when he died, well, I know she was devastated.

My most recent male tutor has moved on now to another university but I recognized right away that I had a strong impulse to please and impress him. I didn't find him attractive per se but there was something in his responses to me that made me want very much to please him and it certainly pleased me a great deal when I did impress him just before he moved on.

That's the central point here. I like to please and I like the idea of someone encouraging me to do my very best work because they know I am capable of that if I try hard and they see it as their job to ensure that happens.

I've really enjoyed returning to this simple little fantasy today. There's not an implement in sight; no nasty sadism or discipline; just someone insisting that I do my best; cuddling me; being there for me; loving me well. What mattered most in the fantasy is that I was appreciated, encouraged; thought bright; aided him. Together, we were a partnership. I may have been the bottom of the relationship (was the bottom of the relationship) but we walked on an even playing field.

I've noticed a difference in my state of mind lately. I've no idea if it is a passing fancy or not but my mind has returned to this sweeter, kinder sort of relationship. Importantly, there is no attempt on my part to grab control and there never ever was a desire to grab control. However, there is a strong tendency to want to be nurtured; encouraged to be my best. I've no idea where this thought will or could lead. I am simply noticing.

Temperament

When you pick a puppy from the litter or when a child is born, right then you have pretty much all the information you need about the temperament of that animal or child. Our male dog desperately needs regular doses of love and attention and he has an 'almost human' aspect about him. He's needy and he's the one that will whine when I leave them tied outside a store for a minute or two. The female, his sister, is much more independent. She has patience and she defers to her brother always. His appetite is voracious and he's happy to steal her food but in all other ways he's very doting and caring about her. Most of these characteristics were evident the moment we laid eyes on them. They were the last two of the litter and though we came for one dog, of course we went home with both of them

My children's temperaments were discernible immediately. My first son was active even inside me and he came out biting at the bit to get on with life. He was sweet from day one and this is how he has remained: active and sweet; a gorgeous, gorgeous boy; a born leader. My daughter was clearly independent. Impossibly late to be born (but amazingly the obstetrician allowed me to wait to give birth to her naturally) she was independent, feisty, stubborn yet very sweet from day one. She has remained just so.

My third child is a mellow child; loving; happy; specific in his needs and interests from the get go and so he has remained. He persists and lives life according to his own creed; a delicious sense of humor and fun was and remains present. My last child was always particular and always sweetness and light. He needed all things done his way but over time I see him adjusting and the flexibility increasing as he moves in and out of groups. He is a hugger; always considerate; always loving; deeply creative and smart. So, I have been very lucky: four beautiful, loving children.

My daughter has the temperament of her father. What I mean is that she has a trait of his that needed some adjustment. Just like my husband, she has a temper and she likes things done her way. They clash. What a surprise! Over the years, they have had some real ding dongs. They had a 'blue' on our old boat a few years back and the wind was in such a direction that I could hear every word from the house. If someone had asked if I knew who they were I would have denied any knowledge of either of them.

Since she has been living with us over the past few months, the environment has been fairly peaceful. For one thing, she's completely immersed in her new boyfriend and for another, she's really trying to be very sweet to her father; to approach him with caution and to use a great deal of tact and finesse when interacting with him.

Unfortunately, yesterday morning there was a blow out. Let me preface my comments by saying that my goal in life is to keep the family functioning on a even keel. I do lots of tasks to ensure that my husband need not get involved. He'd be lucky to tell you where items in the kitchen are, or how to fill a lunch box and so on because he is not involved and never has been involved in this sort of minutiae. This has worked and worked very nicely.

Yesterday morning was my last day to leave the house by 6.10 am for my special yoga breathing session in the park in the city. My son needed to be at school by 7.20 for a rehearsal and my daughter generously offered to take him before she had to be at her place of employment associated with the post-graduate work she is undertaking. I'd told my son his lunchbox would be packed. However, my husband, in his infinite wisdom decided to work right throughout the night and was having an early snack as I was about to make the sandwich.

"No. No. I'll do that. You get going or you'll be late."

"Are you sure?"

"I can make a sandwich. Go."

I left, with apprehension. The story goes like this, and is a compilation of my husband's and my daughter's version. She could see her brother was about to be late and seeing that my husband was preoccupied said that if he hadn't made the lunch they'd have to go without it. My husband, aware that he had become distracted yet again and not made the sandwich felt aberrant about that and somewhere in there they snarled words at one another and the heat and tension rose until she left for work upset and he remained upset, telling me about her temper when I arrived home.

Clever girl that I am, I said very little and merely listened. I've learned my lesson from past experiences about making judgements over their behavior. But, when my daughter came home that afternoon she wanted to talk and she was clearly still upset by it.

"I've been trying so hard with him but he is just so difficult..."

"I think you hit the 'guilty' button and once that is hit he says things that he doesn't mean. He gets defensive. You know this. You know he won't change."

"I told you that. Remember in the past, I told you that he wouldn't change when you were upset."

I smiled. "Yes, Yes you did. And, you were right. I've accepted him. I've even embraced him. He's a wonderful man with a temper. That is all there is to that."

Now, she smiled.  Just before she went off to her party that evening she found him and came and hugged him. Neither made any effort to say "sorry" both acknowledging it was better to let it go. And, that's fine.

There was one previous clash a month or so ago and that time she went to her boyfriend for an ear.

"You'll never win," he told her.

She told me that and I told her that he was clearly insightful. He was very right.

At first, I wasn't sure about this boy of hers. He definitely needed some rough edges rubbed off him but that is happening very nicely now. Even tempered and calm, he is a fine complement for her. She's definitely a lot calmer since she met him and she's a lot happier now that we have embraced him and he has embraced us, too.

I think that there can only be one person with a temper in any union; only one emotional meatball in the spaghetti. The other needs to have steadiness and an ethereal quality about them if at all possible.

That's when our marriage became so much better too; when I not only accepted that my husband's temper was here to stay but I embraced it. He is a lovely, lovely man with a temper and he probably came out of the womb that way. I may not always manage to remain level headed but then again I'm human and not an angel.

I recently asked my oldest son (my husband's number 1 fan) if he thought Dad could ever find another woman to live with him if something happened to me...

"No way, Mum. You're the one in 10 million."

I told you he was sweet!   

Personal power

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Submission more right than ever

The past two weeks have been a very special time for me. I have loved my time in London and my daughter assures me I have seen more of London now than most Londoners. I really have done a great many things.

The past few weeks have been a burst of independence for me. Perhaps it was inevitable that by embracing this opportunity - opening my mind to all sorts of opportunities and ideas - that I might forget myself a tad. I confess that for a time a daily ritual was not adhered to.

I don't believe in giving excuses because I am responsible for the decisions I make but I do want to say that living in such close quarters with my daughter (who for now is entirely vanilla) made it difficult to behave in my usual way. Nonetheless, there is an issue of non-compliance which will no doubt be addressed in good time and I, of course, accept and expect that. If an owned girl can't comply with simple commands then there is a big problem that requires correction. Happily, I am back on track with that.

Time without his girl has most definitely set my owner's mind thinking and he has informed me that he wants to embrace our power exchange in a more complete way and that if I accept this, and of course I do, that issues such as non-compliance and poor behaviour might find me in rather uncomfortable positions. As I said to him, if he wants that, then I want that.

This has been a period of extraordinary growth for me in a great many ways. I can feel myself bursting over with ideas and thoughts, but no thought is greater in my mind than that I love being an owned girl: that I embrace my limits and containment with a song in my heart and that I am thankful to have the attention and care to which I have become so accustomed.

I revel in my submission, deplore disconnection, adore my relationships and embrace myself for who and what I am. A shot at independence has cemented in my mind just how right this life is for me. Nebr feer: da bimbo bak soon.

Enlightenment

One of the challenges of being a parent is to accept that your children are not little miniatures of yourself; that any child you produce for the world may be very much like you or not like you at all. All my four children are very unique beings, quite different to one another in most ways except to say that they are all good people and all quite soft and caring sort of people.

Their upbringing is very different to mine and of course, the world has moved on since I was growing up and being, say, 23 years old now is rather different to being 23 years old 25 years ago, I think. What people of that age want out of life could well be vastly different than what we wanted back then at that age. Contemporary culture and childhood experiences are going to shape us in ways we don't quite know and the challenge is not to judge and to understand that we all have our separate journeys through life; that no one can really hurry someone along; that maturity and knowledge and wisdom and fulfilment will come when the time is ready. As my boss used to say when I wouldn't heed his advice, "I guess you have to make your own mistakes."

One of the experiences I knew I wanted to have in London was to go to a Church service at Westminster Abbey. I was happy to go alone but my daughter insisted she was happy to come along. Plans with young people change minute by minute I find, and Saturday evening had her having drinks with a man friend whilst Sunday morning found them both hung over. Nevertheless, both of them agreed to come along and so off we went to Westminster Abbey.

I love churches. Something happens to me when I walk into any church, but to walk into Westminster after a period of 30 years since I have last been there was truly profound. It is such a beautiful church and the service this morning which focused on the death of Christ was a very beautiful one with a great deal of divine choral singing. The sound emanating through the Cathedral was so intensely beautiful that I found tears pouring down my face. I was deeply moved to hear such beauty amongst the splendour of the Abbey. It was one of those moments when you feel very close to your maker and when the reason for being here on this earth seems very clear. It was a coming together of the person from my past and the person who I am now - both of those people always in search of beauty, of grace and of deep meaning but in somewhat different ways.

It saddened me then and it saddens me now as I write to recognize that my daughter got so little out of the experience. Yet, I could be wrong about that. Perhaps one day on reflection it will mean a great deal - one day when she is ready to look at life with a bit more contemplative thought. I guess you would be right if you thought that I was missing my husband at that moment. He would have adored the Abbey and the service and completely understood my tears and my sense of being overwhelmed by the spectacular beauty.

Since I was often alone as a child, my world was of my own making and perhaps it is the reason why I have a strong and vivid inner life. My imagination always keeps me company. I read a lot and I have a hunger to see the places I have read about. It is why I find such wonder in being in London. Perhaps, it is why I can enter into the world of cindi with such ease and why I embrace her so completely. I see nothing wrong with, and never have, creating alternate realities. I've read on other peoples' blogs comments about that recently and of course I agree that it is entirely healthy to radiate in the pleasure and relaxation of creating an alternate experience other than just the "real world".

Yet as much as I can relate to creating alternate realities (my eldest son had two imaginary friends that we refer to to this day), I seek much more. Constantly, I await those rare but very precious moments when I may be transported higher; lifted spiritually off the ground and into the space of mind that can only be described as "the divine". I wait and wait for those moments and when they come, I feel a radiance and a sense of being filled with purity that is like no other feeling in the world. Sometimes, every so often, my submissive response takes me to that spiritual lightness of being. I was most certainly there today in the Abbey.

If I could give my daughter, my sons but one gift in life it would be to experience the sense of completeness that I felt today and that I have experienced in moments of submission and love. Whether they will ever know what I know, I cannot say. Perhaps it is not my job to be concerned about this and on their own personal journeys through life they will come to know things that I will never know. Such is life. I continue to hope that they may experience moments of being transported to a higher realm as I am just as I wish it for you; for everyone. My goodness, but it radiates beauty up there!

Play

As a mother of four children and a woman who was trained to be a high school teacher, I watched with fascination last night a documentary about children’s play. American children, it was proposed, were at risk of losing essential free play in their lives. So competitive had American parents become on their children’s behalf and so terrified of what might befall a child if left unsupervised, their free play time was evaporating. We saw footage of very young children, less than eight years old saying that they felt “stressed” (I wondered how they learned that word...) They relayed that they were always expected to be doing something.

The vast majority of parents around the world would be inclined to agree that team sports build character. I agree that sometimes team sports build character and I also agree that sometimes team sports are just counterproductive. I saw evidence of both scenarios with my own children. It has to be the right sort of team and the right sort of sport with the right sort of coach to be a positive experience, in my opinion. When I saw one son being sidelined and the coach acting like a control freak weirdo, I suggested to my son that he might be better able to fill in his Sunday afternoon. He was just so relieved that he didn’t need to handle any more of our expectations of him. Instead, he did what he really wanted to do: highly competitive and challenging stuff but on a whole other level. As one expert on children’s play reported, team sports have the potential to build character.

And another thing: The researchers discovered that in team sports some kids hold back. They don’t want to make a mistake in front of the screaming onlookers. But, take those kids and put them with other kids in a smaller situation, such as their own neighbourhood away from the screaming parents and they became leaders on the sports fields.

But, I digress. The important point made, based on considerable research is that free play situations for children are essential to build their emotion intelligence; to develop problem solving strategies and conflict resolution strategies.

It was fascinating to watch what happened on a primary school playground when adults made available equipment other than balls and bats. They scattered into the trees, a variety of coloured scarves, and what do you know! Suddenly, many children were using those scarves to imagine all sorts of scenarios. They were, for forty minutes, different people in far off lands. The playground came alive with the sounds of children at play: happy, bubbly, creative children. It was a sight to see!

When I moved to America, I was just a simple Aussie girl with my own simple notions of bringing up children. If they wanted to play in a mud puddle on a stinking hot day, that was fine by me. That is what free, creative Australian children do. I was shocked to discover that this was a real novelty to the American parents who looked on. They had never seen such a thing: the abandon of a child who has sat on the sidelines all sticky hot summer day to watch his older brother in a soccer tournament simply have enough, take off all his clothes and wade through the puddle stark naked. To me, it was the most normal event in the entire world.

My two eldest children adored the Robin Williams’ Captain Hook movie, ‘Hook’, and I loved it too. It was so filled with an imaginative spirit that it was impossible not to fall in love with it. Imagine my confusion, therefore, when I found myself involved in a conversation with American mothers full of complaint about the movie. They thought it just “silly”. I just kept my mouth closed. Their world of bringing up children was something totally alien to me.

When we left America, we were snowed in for almost a week. Everything had gone. We had nothing in the house but some cardboard boxes. Never fear! We also had some masking tape and my daughter got to work to make a “house”. For three days, she and her younger brother played in their house, blissfully happy and content.

With my two younger children, I had to accept that their sort of play was going to be different. They both adored the screen and whilst they had full and varied extra-curricular lives in the form of music and sport and drama and so on, their creative play might have them in the library at lunchtime working with another aficionado of animation or whatever, putting together a movie. So be it. We are all different. A ball is not going to appeal to every kid just as one sort of recreation is not going to appeal to all adults.

As the child psychologist in the documentary said in so many words: It is about raising a resilient child. In this world the most important thing we learn to do is to adapt. Children must be resilient enough to adapt to life’s challenges. They can’t learn this skill wrapped in cotton wool, constantly supervised.

Whilst free play for my children was something that I instinctively understood and provided, it hadn’t occurred to me that I also needed free play; the opportunity to lose myself in a world of my own invention, or to have the opportunity to adapt to someone else’s version of a wonderful world.

My husband, too, perhaps didn’t understand that. He was a child who really knew how to play. With a large farm as his playground, he and his siblings were very creative and free indeed. But as he grew older, he may have lost sight of its importance.

Nowadays, we play freely and often with one another. And each time we do, we gain something: the opportunity to lose ourselves in our own creativity; an opportunity to be free and unencumbered. You are never too old or too young to want or need to play in a way most suited to you.

Room at the table

We met a wonderfully colorful character in a clothing store yesterday and since I loved his clothes and he wanted to speak English to my husband we were in there for ages. In a nutshell, he told us of his philosophy of life and at times he had me in stitches. A handsome, charismatic and stylish man, he had worked in New York City for many years in fashion photography and publishing and had returned to a more relaxed style of European living here.

He talked of the cultures of the world, of immigration, of "hot blooded" people and "calm, zen type" people and what happens when people of various cultures all live together. He talked of people he had worked with in Europe who had fixed ideas of what was in and what was out. His French associates, for example, had no idea why he should want to travel to Morocco let alone enjoy his time there, whilst he had loved his travels there. He considered them "snobs".

I'm up early. The way of life here means that the garbage truck comes by every morning very early and at that point I take note of the church bell that dings every 15 minutes. My mind wandered to my recent kinky conversation with a friend and the conversation with our acquaintance yesterday, and then the two events gelled together in my mind.

The D/s space is not unlike the cultures of the world. There are so many different ways to live, all under the banner of D/s. Some people feel that their way is the real way; the right way of doing what we do. That's okay. 'Each to his own' has always made a lot of sense to me.

One of my greatest breaks in life is that I found myself mentored by a person who understands me; the essence of me. I wanted to experience life in a "zen" kind of way. I seek calm via control. I crave peace of mind. He heard that through my words and he began work to take me there via a philosophy and state of mind that works brilliantly for me.

It is not for everyone, but it is for me and in my view, no less or more significant, no more or less valuable than any other form of D/s. I'm not playing around and nor is he, although we do acknowlede my playful side. What I have learned is as much part of my real life as it is for those who incorporate D/s into their lives in the most traditional of ways.

I like to think that we can all learn something from one another. More than that, I feel sure that we can learn from one another, if we keep our minds and hearts open to that. I think, at the end of the day, we just need to be true to ourselves and very conscious of what we truly need and what works best for us as individuals. Once you have found what you want, as the saying goes, stick to it.

There is room for us all in this space, surely. Respect for one another, an open mind and clarity of thought as to our own personal needs should allow us to sit at the table and engage with one another in a pleasurable and fulfilling way.

What we do

What I do is so clear to me that it is possible that I don’t make it clear enough to others. Having a loving, open and ‘willing to experiment’ husband as I do, it may not make sense that I also have a dominant male friend on line who is my mentor. If it doesn’t make sense to you, there is precious little I can do about it. All I care to say really is that the situation comes with my owner’s total consent. He learned a few years ago now that I could learn more about some things from other people than I could from him. That is not to say that the advice differs in any fundamental way. But, hearing it from another dominant man, I make the connection of the wisdom in a way that I would not without him in my life.

I may have mentioned before, I really can’t remember, of the time when I learned to ski. I was beyond scared; totally freaked out. Unable to make much progress in a class of women also learning to ski in their middle years, my ‘white knight’ arrived on a set of skis and told the instructor he would work with me alone. Bit by bit, he gave me confidence and by the end of the lesson, I was skiing; sort of. I was so grateful I felt a special bond with him and I asked him, “Did you teach your wife to ski?” He responded, “Do I look silly? No, I gave that job to another man.”

So it is with me and submission. My husband is grateful for the help, not to mention that he enjoys the benefits. It is a win: win situation as far as he is concerned. Both happily married, my mentor and I know our limits and never cross them.

I take this opportunity to express my personal gratitude, both to my husband, who gives me much more than most husbands would, and to my mentor for whom I have a great deal of respect. I have a submissive nature, yes, but I’m no walk in the park, either, and he works hard at his role (and hopefully with a sense of pleasure, too). Perhaps, my saving grace is that I am incredibly committed to my goals. I have a deep sense of wanting to pursue this and the further I go, the more I feel nourished, whole and complete.

My mentor has the great attribute of being willing to listen to the responses to his questions very carefully and from that he seems to understand very well what it is I want and need. I think he has a much better handle on what I want than I do. I am really quite unable to articulate what that is until he tells me. Ah ha! The light goes on. Yes, it may look like I want to hold onto some control but I really don’t. How did he know that? I’m a very lucky girl to work with him. I admire him greatly, trust him implicitly and hope that we may always be in each other’s lives, in some capacity.

In the next post, I will share the latest wonderful development; the next layer of the onion being peeled. I’m excited; a bit apprehensive and resistant, but confident (and happy) that there is no turning back. I revel in being taking up a notch and consequently brought down to size. It is serious stuff, yes, but on the other hand, I can’t deny that I am having the time of my life. As I become less, I become more; more happy; more enlightened.

I do want to write about all my emotions and feelings of this week soon, but first of all, I want to make clear the lay of the land. You won’t find two marriages that are stronger and our mentoring relationship only serves to strengthen that fact. I do not write this post because I require the reader’s approval. I have the only approval I require; that of my owner. But, I also did not want to lead you astray.

What we do: it is a good thing.

Not just a fantasy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cindi talks 2 ownir

Cindi is beri fortunate 2 have a wunderful ownir hoo reeli understandz her. At timz, cindi getz confoozed. She has a simple mind, being the fucktoy that she is and she needz her ownirz direction. Her mentor remindz her 2 that her ownir is the most important persun in her life. On this matter, cindi is never confoozed. There is agreement by everybody that it is ownirz opinion dat matterz above all else.

So, this morning, cindi asked 2 talki with ownir abowt a matter that confoozed her. U c, cindi is a beri happi bimbo. This sense of happiness extendz beyond the timez that she is yoosed. She feelz a sense of contentment, cuntaynment, and peace that is beri, beri special. Her happiness is not an illusion. It is beri real. In fakt, it extendz beyond pley in2 the practikal life. Her sense of harmony with the world extends outsyd of the bedroom, outsyd of the howse, and in2 da wider werld in which she must go sumtimez.

More than that, she feels more a part of the outsyd werld, as well. She embraces the world and what she can acheef in it with more focus, commitment and resolve. Allowed 2 cum owt an pley, and shine and b akepted, she functionz well, with her chorez and wot she and ownir look 2 do, together and separatelee.

However, there is no doubt that cindi is a simpel littel thing, with a simpel littel mynd, an dat the trooth is dat she is a bit of a dum dum, who preferz nut 2 think or worri. Ownir reeli luvz cindi 2 pieces. He reeeeeeeli dus! He dusnt mind dat cindi is a simple dolli and dere has never been any question abowt his willingness 2 looki afta cindi. He is da best ownir a dolli could ever aski 4.

Ownir talki wif cindi this morning beri troothfullee. He told cindi agin how happi cindi makez him; how her happiness makez him happi 2. Cindi is a beri gud dolli. Datz wot he said. But, it is not possible 4 cindi 2 alweyz cum down from the shelf and b wif ownir. Sumtimez, he needz 2 poot his dolli back on da shelf, and cindi shood nut be upset by dis owtcum. Sumtimez, da dolli needz 2 rest.

"Dere is a practikal werld, cindi," he sed, "whether we liki dat or not. Ownir needz 2 talki 2 a smart gurl sumtimez bout his business concerns. He needz her 2 b abel to listen carefully and 2 offer her poynt of voo."

He said 2 cindi that this is nut 2 poot cindi down in any way, but dat 4 her own good, she needz 2 spend sum time on the shelf whilst he talki with his girl. He said dat dere is a time and place 4 everything. And, nut only that, he said dat he must protekt da gurl 2, an dat gurlz need 2 talki sumtimez; even 2 (over) analyze things, coz dat is wot gurlz do an dis is nut so bad, as lung as dey dont get 2 carreed away an get angry and upset and nut so nys 2 live wif. It was okay 4 da gurl 2 have a bit of space, he said. Without sum space 4 her in da house, it might nut be healthy 4 her, 4 owner or even 4 cindi.

Cindi understandz what her ownir is saying. He luvz cindi and he luvz havin her around. Datz beri obvious 2 cindi. But, he also enjoyz his time with da gurl, and he thinkz dat the gurl deservez some time 2. Datz fair! Now, if da gurl getz owt of cuntrol, datz a hole different story, an dat wood be bad. She must co-operate wif cindi, never lock her in da cupboard like she yoosed 2 do, and alweyz be polite 2 ownir. Dey r da roolz.

Cindi was so pleezd 2 have dis talk wif ownir. He is a beri wise an luvin ownir and cindi will go bak on da shelf happili from time to time, knowing dat ownir wont let da girl hurt cindi agin. Hooray!

Friends in the sky

It is a pleasure to read Selkie's blog and her discussions always having me thinking. Lately, Selkie gave thought to the element of 'fantasy' associated with 'online' relationships. I'm in no position to make any wild, sweeping statements about the success rate of online relationships. I've never had an online romance, and I've never attempted to find a guy that way. I've heard of some remarkable success stories and I've heard of plenty of dismal failures. I guess it is fair to say that, depending on your luck, it could go either way.

What I am in a position to be able to say is that friendships formed 'online' and only online can be outstandingly successful. I may or I may not meet some or all of my friends one day. Whether I do or don't, the friendships forged are very strong, very enjoyable, very worthwhile and very real. It is almost inconceivable that I could have had such conversations with any person face to face as I have had on the Internet.

I'm not a particularly bold or brave person but I've initiated one or two of my online friendships, whilst others have been bold enough to contact me. I've had a 100 per cent strike rate, for even those friends with whom I no longer talk or write were worthwhile associates. Every one of my current friends, male and female, have turned out to be gems. I feel proud to know them all, and to have some connection with them, and hopefully, to enrich their lives as they have enriched mine.

For the past year and a half, I've been corresponding with a gentleman on the other side of the world. I've revealed a lot of my thinking to him and my needs, and he has given of his time to help me with very specific needs; needs that would have gone unmet otherwise. It was not perfect and each of us bear some responsibility for times when our relationship suffered, but given that we never met, we never spoke, or even saw one another's photos until very recently, we did amazingly well. When our relationship altered recently from that of a therapist/patient or dominant/submissive, if you will, to friend/friend (him remaining a dominant and me remaining a submissive) I had no difficulty in saying that the reason I asked for a change in the status of our relationship was because he had succeeded with me.

The role of an online mentor is treacherous. Two people get to know one another rather well. They work more closely together than any therapist/patient could. Few people can afford to see their therapist more than once a week, but our relationship was conducted on an almost everyday basis. We got to the heart of the matter, the very specific issues that needed to be addressed. And, over time, we began to see significant changes. I wrote that his lessons had "seeped into my bones". When I was not looking, I had changed and grown.

Another dear online friend told me that his wisdom had come when he wasn't looking and I believe that. Wisdom or growth in a person is an evolving thing and one day you look up and realize that it has happened. You are old enough or have grown enough for your problem to no longer be your problem.

Endings are tough. Too tough for either of us. And, so we remain friends; keen to update one another on our lives, from time to time. You don't share your life with someone; your most inner thoughts only to walk away. Or, you should not.

Of course, as a submissive woman with such strong desire and need for containment; for a sense of safety and security, love and serenity, there are still various paths to walk and I do that now with a mind for the specifics of that outcome. My new peace of mind and sense of happiness comes from putting into place those specific ideas to which I am being introduced.

Meanwhile, my husband notices the difference in me and is happy to see the growth and fulfilment of his girl. He is the recipient of my high marks. There is no better man to be found for me than he, I can assure you.

I'm not at all sure that I can tell you whether I am lucky with my online friendships or if I have some 'knack' for it that I should analyze and share. I think I can say on my own behalf that I was prepared to be bold and brave, to be honest and open, and to trust. It may have been dumb luck or it may be that I stumbled on men and women with great integrity and we sussed one another out well. Words can be remarkably powerful.

It is incumbent on me to caution that there are many snakes on the Internet. One must be very careful. But, there are also sparkling gems of people. Each of my Internet friends is, for me, a bright, shining star. I will be forever thankful for having had the great pleasure of knowing them.

Growth

One of the aspects of a power exchange relationship that I appreciate so much is the ability to grow as a person, as well as a woman. Not only have I learned how to be a good submissive, but I have also learned about myself; what I do well and what I could do better.

One of the things I don't do so well is cope with stress. I tend to be a worrier and sometimes I put much too much energy into the worry and not enough energy into either, solving the problem if I can, or not worrying so much, if I can't.

In a sense, this goes to the heart of our power exchange dynamic. As the dominant, my husband will make many decisions on my behalf. He will almost always explain to me what he has done, or what he is going to do. Certainly, there have been times when I have not agreed with his decision. Sometimes, I have been right not to agree. Sometimes, it would have been better if he had gone my way. Reconciling that has not been easy.

However, I am reconciled now to the fact that he is my dominant, and that he is doing what he believes is right for me and all the family. He welcomes my input, and he tells me that he listens carefully to everything that I say. At the end of the day, he will make the decision himself and he will be responsible for it himself. My job is to support him in making those decisions. Perhaps for some of you reading, this is 'D/s Relationships 101'. Even so, it has been a huge learning curve me for.

I was reading about 'mindfulness' last night. Mindfulness helps to develop acceptance.

"What is happening is happening, and if we rail against it we make it worse."

Where was Dr. Hassad when I needed him?

My husband and I have often used the phrase, "He can't see the forest for the trees." So, I paid attention when I read this:

"If you are lost in the forest, this does not mean that you don't do anything. You accept that you are lost and put your attention to getting out of there. A response is required that needs careful attention, but in our mind we often amplify the stress and burden associated with things enormously."

Yes, guilty as charged!

But, what is wonderful about being a submissive is that the right dominant man can teach you so much about yourself. As a submissive, your place is not just to serve, but to grow; to flourish in his attentive and intelligent care.

The power of D/s is magnificent.