A positive direction in perilous circumstances

In this troubling time, when nothing seems quite solid, reliable or certain, I believe we need extra heavy doses of positivity, gratitude, courage and endurance.

Of course, we should all be sensible and careful. We should wash our hands regularly and distance ourselves from other people in ways that make sense - working from home and staying home, wherever possible. We need to be vigilant about keeping our immune systems healthy. There is plenty of information on the Internet as to how to do this.

My contribution is simply to say that this too shall pass; that we have to get through this, that when the crisis is over, the opportunity is there to come out of it better than before, depending on one's interpretation of  'better'.

This crisis is a medical emergency and we must be vigilant. This crisis is also a moral and spiritual opportunity. We either take that opportunity and run with it or we allow fear to overtake us.

I belong to a group and the following was the offering to the members of the group this morning by the leader of the group. I just loved it and would like to offer it here to anyone who passes by these parts:


“And the people stayed home. And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised, and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently.
"And the people healed. And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless, and heartless ways, the earth began to heal.
"And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they had been healed."
~Kitty O'Meara

Be well. Be happy.  Be safe. Have faith.

Looking at what is

Over the past several years, bit by bit, I've come to understand myself and how I got to here. I've acknowledged and accepted that I was either born with an anxious and sensitive disposition, or my upbringing led me to be that way. Maybe it was a bit of both since both my parents were anxious and so it makes sense I inherited that anxiety to some degree.

I've acknowledged and accepted as well that I am attracted to men, and have always been attracted to men, who offer at least some degree of positive energy; where I can hover down under their wing. That space feels right.

Another way of saying the above is that I am an empath and as such there are some pitfalls as well as strengths of which to be aware. So, I am happy to look after the other, to be led by the other (so long as it isn't onto a landmine) and for the other to, generally speaking, have his way.

I've listened to lot of complaining in my life, to the other's story. I've cajoled, or stayed silent, or agreed, for the benefit of the other, and for peace. I've put my own needs second, or third, or fourth...

I've discovered that there are stages that an empath might go through, the first one being a fight or flight stage where the body is pumping out adrenaline. Over time he or she might wander into a so called 'resistance' stage, a chronic stage where the body is producing more cortisol than it should. From there, an empath can find herself or himself in a 'burnout' stage where the empathic skills are in a state of hibernation as the person rests mind and body.

As far as I can tell I must have been doing something right, because people whose body and mind has endured what I have tend to end up with chronic inflammatory conditions like fibromyalgia. I don't have any serious conditions like that.

I have been aware at times however that my body is in trouble. I realized at a few different junctures in my life that cardio work isn't right for the empath whose nervous system is in disarray. Many years ago I was doing a step class when I realized that if I continued I might implode. With great reluctance, I left the class. In more recent times, I found it was not possible to take my agitated nervous system out, even for a walk.

This is what led to my interest in Meditation, Yoga, Pilates, Tai Chi and QiGong. All of these types of activities calmed my nervous system. Instinctively, I knew this was right. And, once I knew how to settle my nervous system I could add in walking and a mixture of walking/jogging. All walks are now most pleasurable and I can snuff off worry at these times.

In the same way, time alone, time in the garden, time ironing and listening to music at the same time, time cooking alone in the kitchen settle me.

I love sexual situations where I can be the doll, but something about the learning of myself has meant that I need the other to keep a close eye on my pleasure or positive spirit in that mode. In the same way that I experienced burnout being the empath who endures for the other, so being in situations where I am not really enjoying or getting off on the sexual situation can be quite destructive to my state of mind.

I recognize in this burnt out phase a degree of selfishness. I think, in a sense, that's growth on my part. In my own way, probably not in the best way, but in the way I know, I am standing up for my right to (gosh, how to put this) have a calm and settled nervous system.

I have learned that an empath whose nervous system is upset can be supported with various measures. I am finding relatively high doses of magnesium and zinc to be helping. I try to sleep consistently well but don't always manage it. It's important to support good sleeping patterns with a calm nightly routine, magnesium taken before bed, perhaps a meditation immediately before, or whilst in bed.

I drink a cup of coffee a day but I think I do better when I avoid coffee. Really good food also supports my system. The idea is to have some protein with each meal and personally I find that carbohydrates, sugar and most dairy is best avoided. The exception to this rule is a small amount of natural yoghurt. Cheese, which I love, is an occasional treat.

If one is born, or develops early in life, an anxious and worrying disposition, then that's what it is. This is one of the challenges of being born that person. Once this is a conscious understanding, the 'isness' of this state, then you can decide what you want to do about it; what can be done about it.

The complicating factor, of course, is that in relationship to a more narcissistic character, that being his or her challenge that developed early in life, there is going to be agitation.  This is inevitable. The nervous system is going to be challenged, for both of you, but in different ways.

Certainly, I have discovered many strategies to counter this assault to the nervous system, but I am definitely yet to perfect all of them. I stop participating in discussions that are circulatory in nature, or that begin to morph into something lacking value, or that could considerably upset me unnecessarily. When I feel frustration brewing inside me, a stealing of my energies, I find refuge in another place. I excuse myself.

But, it is very hard to alter these life long tolerances for the other. The other is so used to stealing one's energy, so used to having an audience, so used to getting the agreement of the other, doing what suits the other. It's almost akin to Jane Fonda announcing to Ted Turner that she was a born again Christian. It must feel like a sort of abandonment. 'What do you mean you are looking after your nervous system?'

As recovery of the nervous system takes place, there's the opportunity to live, and play, in a new way. Some things can't change. I can't suddenly be a leader. I can't suddenly stop my kinky thoughts or getting pleasure in particular ways. But, I do think it is possible that I can say, even if just to myself, 'there's only so much I can tolerate without the situation becoming unhealthy for me. I know my limitations as an empath, as a person with a delicate nervous system'.

By all means let's engage with a transfer of energy, but let's play fair, both of us. See me for who I am, for a situation over which I have only so much control. Take that into account. Give me the release of pleasure by watching my responses closely and seeing what turns me on, and what does not. Being me, it doesn't always feel safe to share that in words. Being you, words that hint at criticism make you defensive.

What needs to be avoided is that I feel too often that I must protect myself from toxicity. To this end, the other must know himself well too, the situation over which he has only so much control, I understand, but a consciousness of his less fine quirks is required. Two flawed people, consciously aware, can make a perfectly fine union, assuming they both work hard to achieve it. It's about waking up to what is.

The Mind that can change anything

I wish that I could explain to people who think about taking, attempt to take, or do in fact take their lives that however bad it feels right now, it will pass. Things will get better.

I've a dear friend whose son took his life one evening when the hurdle he had to face (a new school year) seemed too much for him. Yet, with some tweaking of various elements of his life, mainly expectations, he would have gone on to have had many happy decades of life, I am sure. He was a gentle boy, very bright, and he'd have made a great contribution to this world, without question.

It's so interesting how the circumstance of one's life, which after all is just an illusion manufactured in the mind, can rise or fall on such little things, and so it seems to me that if we could just say to those desperate souls who decide to check out, especially at early ages, that what appears black today could tomorrow be a vibrant yellow.

It has been over two years since this boy took  his life and I have wondered if his mother would ever get over it. Well, I know she will never be the same woman, but would she one day wake up and be glad to be alive again? This, I have wondered.

For some time I was concerned that she too would take her life to be with him, something she said she wanted, but in more recent times she has assured me that she would never do this. A medically trained person she believes in the sanctity of life and she just couldn't do it, she said.

Still, she has also talked of 'living a nightmare' and I have tried a few different things to shift her thinking. Particularly intelligent and not remotely spiritual or religious, there are limited options. I suggested a psychiatrist to get at those thoughts and challenge them, but she's the one to take this step, not me, and I don't think she's ever going to do it.

What to do? Well, she's a woman who loves a bone to chew and she's good at what she does, so I put her onto my mother's health and in time she had that situation sorted with names of the just the right professionals. She won't answer emails about her own pains but she'll gladly write away to come to the aid of someone else.

I wanted to do something for her to say 'thank you' and it occurred to me that music might be a sort of medicine, so I gave her two tickets to a Parisian Jazz Concert in town for just one evening. She took her sister and with excitement emailed the next day to say how wonderful it had been; how the audience had cheered and applauded and stood up and danced in the aisles, including her sister. It gave her a boost like nothing else I had tried had managed to do. For one night at least, she had loved life again, and maybe, just maybe, it might turn things around for her.

She talks to her son often. She still sleeps in his room to be close to him. She knows he visits, which is troubling on one level but also sorta wonderful that this totally scientific and rational woman can be reunited with her son in this way. She blames herself for the sadness that took his life, even though she was a totally devoted mother, and she feels a need to care for him in death as well. She's the child of survivors of Auschwitz. Who am I to tell her how to live and how to think?

In moments when I glimpse the vibrant woman I once knew it feels to me that anything in this world is possible, and so when she dropped off into my letterbox a CD that they were selling that night enclosed in a beautiful card I felt a deep sort of reverence for the art of 'companioning'; of walking side by side with someone who was walking through a deep, dark storm. I can't pretend to feel her pain but I can continue to reassure her that living a nightmare won't last forever. The mind truly does wish to heal.

If you think about music it is an extraordinary gift to the planet. A set of notes is written and learned. They are played, last a few seconds and then they disappear, and yet they can change our mindset; change our lives in fact; change the state of someone's world. A set of notes can remind us that there is much to live for; that man is capable of creating abundant joy. Music is therapy. Music is life. If they try to drop music in your children's school, fight for their rights to experience joy.

Herd mentality

If you are looking to get married and be married for a lifetime I strongly recommend marrying a partner who is interested in talking to you at depth. Engaging conversation is the mainstay of my marriage. It doesn't matter what topic he opens or I open, we can end up talking for hours and hours. You won't ever find us sitting opposite one another in a restaurant wondering what there is left to say.

This morning I opened up a conversation about a character. It's sad but I'm afraid it is what writer types do. He listened and then he made a 'spot on' remark.

"It's like a marble in a bowl. It will eventually come back to the centre."

"Exactly! This girl is White Anglo Saxon Protestant. She's a good time girl. She wasn't ever going to be able to take a lifetime of melancholia or sacrifice."

"It's not her."

"Yes. That's not her."

"Often, in the early twenties, a young person has to go and experience something else; to be sure who they are, they have to go and experience something wilder than themselves."

"Yes, she did that and realized that the wild side wasn't going to work for a lifetime. She needed safety, familiarity; comfort."

"Well, it's not safe to stray away from the herd. That's when you get eaten."

And, so it went. He expounded his theories about primal instincts, one of his pet topics and I told him that it seemed that more men were wanting to express submission than women, according to my research. That's when he expounded on his theories of there being a scale of femaleness and a scale of maleness and that I just happened to be to the far left of femaleness.

It's true. I am to the far left of centre on the scale of femaleness. I do believe in achievement in life. I believe in making a day count, whatever that means to the individual. However, I have the strongest urge to express my nature; the strongest desire to be aroused and to let my nature unfold; to relax into that state where I am fed upon; where I give of myself freely and where I receive the dominant energy that  allows me to be so unencumbered; so free.

This matters a great deal to me. Without expressing this nature of mine I feel restless and at times ambivalent. Expressing my submissive nature fills me with some sort of feel-good endorphins that allow me to enjoy all facets of life.

And yet, words whisper in my ear regularly enough to give me pause.

You must never tell. You must never tell a soul...

The doll must keep her council if she is to be safe; to express herself in ultimate safety. Trust for her is paramount. She must not stray too far from the herd.  She must always be protected and nurtured. This is the role of the dominant: to keep her safe; to protect her; to ally her fears and allow the doll to thrive.

Anal training and agitation

I spent Friday night on my own. Well, first there were three people plus me to feed and finally just one person left in the house, apart from myself. I stayed up later than I meant to and the alarm went off at 5.30 am because I had forgotten to turn it off. I slept through a couple more hours but when I awoke I felt unrested.

The phone rang just before 9 am this Saturday morning with my husband asking a question. I was polite but not really chatty and he said to me, "You sound agitated, girl." I should know better than to bite at that piece of bait but alas I said, "Well, it's a bit annoying that you called me to ask this question. You could easily have woken me and I am very short of sleep."

He didn't like that and most probably because it was true. It was a bit thoughtless and his question was a bit obsessive. I didn't say any of that. I just stayed silent while I got a telling off. It raised my agitation and I did a few things after the call to try to rid myself of that feeling but it wasn't entirely successful. I remained agitated. I am still a little agitated.

I sympathize with him now that I think what his call may have really been about. Perhaps he called me to get a little relief from the visit with his father and I wasn't appropriately receptive to that possibility. His father now lives alone and his conversation tends to be rather negative and depressing now. Too much newspaper reading, radio listening and television watching has him thinking that the media's presentation of life is life. He talks about the doom and gloom as if that is all there is and as much as we love someone that can be hard to be around.

The definition of agitation is "an emotional state of excitement or restlessness." I am not really excited; more restless. I ask myself why this should be so. Hmmmm Well, nothing is really wrong per se except that I have a very strong desire to experience some sort of containment. It is what kept me up late; trying to read something or write something that would satisfy that need. The fantasies keep rolling through my head and there is no real way at this time to feed that desire. I think that's what is going on.

I could speak to the fact that when I am agitated I need to move; to do; to achieve. I am in the process of changing sheets and sorting the house because I am hoping that once I achieve something - a clean and tidy house at least, I will feel settled. It can't possibly hurt.

And, I went outside to the garden and experienced the beautiful morning. That helped but the work was inside so inside I came. Not to mention that I have a deadline; a story that is hanging over my head and the next week's module has to be done too. And, I have to go to the menders to fetch the school pants for Monday. It is a bore sometimes that there is always something to do.

But, they are all excuses and quite secondary to the fact that I have a strong desire to feel sensation. I'd gladly go over a lap or be bound or ...

Ohhhh, it just came to me. I know exactly what to do! Hang on a bit...

(Goes to bathroom and inserts anal plug)

Oh gooooodness, yes, that feels so much better. I feel lighter and brighter; ever so much more positive and ready to get on with the day. Literally, the fog has lifted in my head!

This morning in bed I read a good article about depression which you can read here -

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/22/magazine/the-science-and-history-of-treating-depression.html?_r=1&smid=tw-nytimes&seid=auto

The article talks of Prozac and serotonin and all that we have learned about the brain but it also talks about mood and emotion. There is a lot we can do to alter the thoughts in our head and thus alter our mood. An early morning walk; sunshine on our skin; listening to music we enjoy; thinking about what we can be grateful for; slowing down a bit and taking one moment at a time; being aware of our agitated state, noticing it but not allowing it to control us. This all helps.

But, nothing helps me quite like the containment of wearing an anal plug. I am not saying it will work for everyone, of course. My mind was trained to take enormous comfort in this ritual. Whether I am being told to do it or not, the comfort is indisputable. Call it 'use' or 'containment' or 'ritual' or what you will, it's a surefire way for me to feel at ease.

Flight of fancy

Good evening, kind Sir. I wish to please you.
What is your fancy on this fair night?

What may I do for you, or rather
what would you care to do to me?

You toy with me.
Perhaps I might toy with you, too.

You seek your sadistic pleasures I know,
fear not; I translate it as thrill.

To better days

Some readers may know that Australia is facing the devastating consequences of severe floods. This is a time of huge sorrow for my country; of pulling together to help those in need and of just getting through a very tough time. I imagine it has some similarity to when there was a devastating event in New York City or in New Orleans and people put their best foot forward and helped out wherever they could. Catastrophic events often bring out the best in us.

For me personally, the floods have prompted an understanding of what I hold dear. A nurturer by nature, it is my natural impulse to give care to others and as a woman who is also submissive by nature, I look to receive care. I am more than my sexuality. I am a woman who values more than anything, honest and fulfilling relationships; friendship; getting to know another person at the soul level; treating people with respect; being kind. This is where I get complete sustenance. I need freedom to express myself for all that I am.

At this time, my thoughts are with other Australians who have lost everything. Kinky thoughts seem highly inappropriate right now to my mind. Instead, I offer my positive spirit that there will be better days ahead and that together, we will rebuild shattered lives.

Energy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Living the dream

Today is the day when a very special friend of mine is having a very special day, so it is important to me that on my blog (which she will read!) all the serious topics are put aside for this day. My dear friend has taught me so much about submission. She has never once judged me, even though I feel sure she has had her doubts. She has kept an eye on me, worries about me and gently encourages me to do better; try harder; be stronger. I am the richer for knowing her and one of these days, before the year is out, we’ll be very naughty together and drink wine and shop til we drop, and more. Can’t wait!!

She tells me that I have taught her something, too. That’s a nice thing to say because she’s been a submissive much longer than me. She tells me that I taught her to have fun! Of course, like the bright girl that she is, she has turned my words on me several times over now and reminded me that without fun, submission is missing a vital ingredient. And, so it is.

As in so many aspects of BDSM, the word ‘play’ has an alternative meaning. We tell our children to “play nice” but in our sort of ‘play’ we rather enjoy being grabbed, pulled, bent and bruised. We experience an elevation of spirits that is a mutual gift of one to the other. Our hearts and our spirits soar and we feel for a brief time that we can walk on water. Play as a child was never this much fun!

My friend takes her submission seriously. This is not something she does but something she is. It is how she expresses who she is. Yet, really, she plays all day long; day in and day out. Say what she will in the heat of the moment (Yes, we girls do vent!!) she adores being a submissive girl: from the dress code, to the play sessions when she orgasms so powerfully, to the restrictions of her life which are many, to the deep love she feels for Master. Whether she is making a lasagne (for him, of course), or packing his bag and locating his keys, or bringing up their children so well, she is living the dream. ‘Living the dream’ is a little joke of ours, but you can be certain of this: she would not have it any other way.

So, darling girl, let me raise my glass to you and wish you the happiest of birthdays and many, many more happy birthdays to come.

And to Master: You have the most magnificent slave a man could ever wish to have. We slaves and bimbos don’t need much; just buckets and buckets of love. Do you think you can wrap that? Look after my girl well, wont you?!

Have fun, sweetheart!! Happy Birthday!!

P.S. Cindi sends her love and birthday greetings, too!

Mind to body

A few years ago, when I was nursing my youngest child, I sat there and realized that I had to do something about my back. I was in so much pain, I could not avoid it any longer. At the first opportunity, I walked into a chiropractor's office that I often passed in the car and asked him for help. Manipulations helped but he suggested Plates classes to strengthen my core muscles to support my back.

A few months later, an acquaintance approached me in the street and asked if I would like to join her Pilates class. It was the right time. My baby, one day out of the blue, had refused my breast after ten months of routine breastfeeding and the hormonal changes to my body had thrown me into a depression. I knew that I had to get out and do something about it and this seemed the right opportunity.

I have been doing Pilates classes ever since then and I thoroughly recommend them. If readers are interested in pursuing Pilates classes, may I make a few suggestions? A class that incorporates some Tai Chi and some Yoga along with Pilates, is a great combination of mind to body exercise. And, try to look for an instructor who speaks fairly softly and calmly, not interfering with the 'feel good' karma you are likely to experience. You don't need someone who won't stop chattering and you don't want someone who resorts to a series of individual exercises, not maintaining a calm and tranquil environment, from position to position. Best of all, if you can find a class that ends with a little meditation, you know you are onto a good thing.

By the end of the hour, you may well find you walk out of there in a lovely, relaxed state of mind with a new outlook as to how you might go about the rest of the day or evening. As a dear friend put it to me we all have "elephant shit" to deal with. But, when we feel tranquil and at peace, it is quite a bit easier to find the solutions to our problems.

I highly recommend a drink with other participants at the end of the class, too. I have been to a class this morning and enjoyed the positive spirit that one could feel from every corner of the room. When you take that positive spirit and extend it just a bit further to a conversation over a drink with other participants, true friendships seem to just emerge.

I know life is busy. I know you have a million things to do. But, give it a try if you possibly can.

Fiery girls

One of the most enjoyable aspects of having children, in my opinion, is that parents gets to watch their personalities unfold. Since my eldest child is grown and living elsewhere, I thought I knew all there was to know about him. I discovered last night that there is always a little more...

His last minute call to say that his plans had changed and could he come over worked out perfectly. I was just beginning a huge fried rice for the other boys who are in study mode. Together, we shared a massive platter of the dish, together with a lovely bottle of Pinot Noir.

When the younger boys left and it was just my husband, myself and my son, the conversation moved onto food and restaurants, as it so inevitably does. This is a city famous for its dining and consumption of wine. He told us of a new restaurant in a street we know well and how authentically Italian it is.

"You'll love it, Mum. It is so romantic...perfect for you and Dad."

And, finally, he mentioned the gal that he has been seeing. We know her name via his sister, who gets more information that we do, but very little else.

"I took (my girlfriend) there and she loved it."

Here was my big opportunity.

"Sooooo, she's Italian...?"

"No, she is Greek."

"Ahhh..."

"And, boy, is she fiery!!! I was making her pizza last weekend and she slapped me across the face twice before I had even served it!"

"Oh boy! You must have said something to work her up, I think."

"Well, probably. I think I like to do that. I love to see their reactions."

"Darling, talk about out of the fat and into the fire..."

(I was referring to his previous girlfriend.)

"Yeah. I know. It's weird ."

"But, you've always done that, darling. Always liked to get something happening if it is too calm."

"Yeah...at the restaurant...I took her there for breakfast...and she stood up and had a go at the waiter because the meal was slow coming out! She's crazy! I had to tell the poor guy it was all right."

He's smiling broadly. He is animated. He looks happy.

"Well, you know we girls have to eat regularly..."

"I know!!!! Well, I think I like fiery girls. I'd be bored otherwise."

And, there it was. Finally, an acknowledgement of who he is; what he wants.

My son has been witness to the tempestuous relationship of his parents all his life. He has watched his Dad niggle his Mum on purpose, forever. Will she react? Will he have to go into his bag of tricks for more? His Mum ignores many of the gibes, but sometimes, when it is least expected, she bites back enough for the Dad to take notice. The smile on his face suggests that he has enjoyed that. Like two little kids in the school yard. And, so it goes. The games that men and women play.

I know you will yawn if I tell you again how proud I am of him. My God, but he is handsome now! But, I so delight at thinking of the lovely times he has ahead of him. And, this girl will be good for him.

One for the Dominants

Having read Sir J’s discussion about ‘punishment’, I am prompted to share some thoughts of my own on this subject.

What I like about what I know of Sir J’s dynamic with his h is that it is a closely connected relationship. He has developed rituals around the day whereby, wherever they happen to be, in the same vicinity or not, they check in with one another routinely; touch each other, often. When a submissive woman is in touch with her dominant, in whatever form that takes, she is unlikely to feel abandoned. She is unlikely to want to misbehave.

I don’t think that submissive woman misbehave too often because they can’t do the task, or they don’t know better, or they are just “bad”. I think submissive women misbehave because they don’t feel the connection adequately, and this throws them off balance. When they are off balance, problems ensue for both the dominant and the submissive.

I refer to the sort of attention I crave as ‘positive energy’.

Recently, I was asked to do a task. It was for my own benefit; something I was being taught and something I wanted to learn. I procrastinated and when called on it, a correction ensued. It was a correction that, more or less, took the place of the task and it was a correction that would see progress. It was a punishment, for want of a better word.

Whilst I do misbehave, I also do see the error of my ways and I didn’t hesitate to comply. In fact, I enjoyed my ‘punishment’ enormously as he most likely knew that I would. I also enjoyed having the task imposed on me. That’s just who I am. When I reported that I had accomplished the task, he was effusive with praise. We were both delighted!

And, that is what I mean by ‘positive energy’.

I’ve certainly had the other kind of punishment; the kind where you are asked to bend over and take a good whipping. Sometimes, that has been highly appropriate from the point of view that I didn’t do what I agreed to do or I did something, knowing that there would be such a penalty. Sometimes, I have been hell bent to do something my way and it has taken this sort of a punishment to convince me that my behaviour really does need to change. I don’t have a strong objection to this. I certainly don’t have any sense of resentment about it where the rules were very clear and I broke them.

As a submissive woman, I enjoy playing with pain, and sometimes I enjoy playing with pain that I deserve. It just happens to be part of my fantasy life; part of my kink. Exploration of pain, without the punishment factor occasionally, would be less satisfying to me. It just happens to turn me on. What can I say? Perhaps one could set up that ‘scene’ for me but I think I’d know the difference. It’s complicated.

The point is that I just don’t have the kind of personality that even desires to be good ALL the time. Sometimes, I just ‘push the envelope’. I’m never going to be the perfect submissive.

But, aside from those occasional times, I look for the kind of close connection with my dominant that will have me in my ‘happy place’; wanting to please, wanting to receive his praise. In my heart of hearts, I truly believe that if I had that, I could shine. I know, because I have had that, and I *did* shine. I bask in the glow of an attentive dom.

One of the aspects of a good submissive is that she should be ‘patient’. That sounds fine in theory, but in practice, it makes the submissive less satisfied in her submission. Surely, if she is bubbly and bright, she can serve her dominant best. To be bubbly and bright, she needs an attentive dom. It may seem impossible to the busy dom to seriously consider that a call of two minutes duration can be exhumed out of his day, but if he really wanted to do it, don’t you think he could find that time? Maybe, giving her a dozen swats of a morning sounds like a big chunk out of his day, but who is he kidding? Twelve swats can be achieved in less than ten seconds. His submissive doesn’t deserve ten seconds out of his morning?

The next time a submissive woman just isn’t rising to the mark, perhaps it is worth the Dominant man asking himself if she needs a burst of positive energy that emanates directly from his attentiveness to her. Sometimes, even a correction or punishment is just the attention she needs.

You see, at the end of the day, come what may, she craves her Dom's attention as her lifeforce.

Light the Way

My children have their different strengths and interests, and my husband and I have been avid and willing spectators. We’ve watched many games of sports with various balls, and we’ve watched them row down rivers. We have seen them dance and sing and act; play instruments. It’s been a lot of fun.

There are special moments. Moments you never forget. Moments that come back to you and make you smile, over and over again.

Here is one example. He was part of a crew, and they had been asked for a mighty big effort all season. It got to the big final day and their coach gave them one of his big time speeches. You know; he hoped they’d win; he thought they would win, but there was the possibility that they might get beaten. There was some very stiff competition and there was that chance. So, he wanted them to know now that, in his eyes, they were winners no matter what. They were a fine set of young men and he was deeply and passionately proud of them.

To watch the boys give their minds and hearts to the task in front of them was an awesome experience. Rowed through twice, they refused to be beaten. One boy told me later that my son and his best friend, through their utter exhaustion had called out,

“Come oooonnnnn!! Let’s fuck these losers!!!!”

Adrenaline carried them all the way to the line to beat the record and win victory for their team, their coach, their school.

My heart was in my stomach the whole race. There were thousands of people urging them on, a sea of spectators riding every last stroke with them, and when they went over the line, victorious, the celebration was so sweet.

But, like me, he’s quiet and contained and reserved about his successes. Sure, he was happy but in an introspective way. They had to row past us to get home again, and in their own divine way, they did it with aplomb; perfectly, just as they had been trained. I wished they would take in the moment a little more; cherish it, take in all the praise they deserved. They were right in front of us all, about to row past, and suddenly, as one, they changed their minds. They stopped rowing and sat there in their boat and just listened to us whooping it up and going wild.

Still, my boy didn’t look up, hiding under his cap. And then, for one brief, shining moment, he did. He raised his head a little to one side, to look through his eyebrows at the adoring crowd. And, he smiled. And, I smiled that he had smiled.

And, it is a moment I will never, ever forget. I could not possibly have been more proud or more happy for him. I felt exultant. My spirits had soared to a higher place.

If you do it right, a D/s relationship can make your spirits soar. You can be risen up, for a moment here or there, where you believe you can walk on water. You believe in yourself because someone believes in you.

One little moment at a time, you can change somebody’s day, somebody’s outlook, and somebody’s life.

Out there in the vanilla world I think many people think that domination and submission is about something dark. My premise here is that domination and submission can light the way.