I am greatly inspired and humbled by those submissive women who strive to live according to all the virtues that we associate with a submissive woman. It is no easy task to be respectful, obedient, truthful, and patient routinely. It is rather like attempting to transform a girl to be an angel on earth.
Of course, realistically, we are not going to be able to display all the virtues, all the time. Yet, it is something to strive for, is it not? I don't mean that if some person at work is trying to derail your career, that you should turn the other cheek. Hardly. A submissive woman has the right to protect herself any way she can in such situations. I hate conflict, and I suspect most submissive women do, but we have to 'get a grip' at such times, and not allow ourselves to be 'steamrolled'. Don't let people take advantage of you! That's not submissive; that's just silly!
I'd like to refer you to a post over at the blog 'Swallow'. I was quite smitten by this extensive list of topics on which to meditate. Have a look over there, and you will see what I mean. I've been on the look out for a new daily ritual which would be meaningful to me, which would aid my submission, and I think I just found it. Fifteen minutes of quiet contemplation on a topic on this list, in the midst of a busy day, sounds perfect.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Blogs I read
It has taken me far too long to put up a list of the blogs I read. I am sure I have left somebody off. Being as technologically challenged as I am, you guys should be grateful for small mercies! But, if I have left somebody off, please don't be offended. Now that I know how to do this, I will add you soon.
If you take the time to have a look at the list, you will see that it is a rather eclectic list of blogs. Each one provides me with inspiration and thought provoking material, and if there is a blog that is new to you, I hope that you will take the time to have a read there. I've included Deity on the list, even though he is taking a "break", because what's there is so yummy, and because, I reckon he'll be back.
I love new ideas and new ways of thinking about domination and submission, and life and love. There is always something to learn and all these bloggers are to be commended for their rich thoughts. I count a few of them as my friends in the sky, and I commend their blogs to you.
If you take the time to have a look at the list, you will see that it is a rather eclectic list of blogs. Each one provides me with inspiration and thought provoking material, and if there is a blog that is new to you, I hope that you will take the time to have a read there. I've included Deity on the list, even though he is taking a "break", because what's there is so yummy, and because, I reckon he'll be back.
I love new ideas and new ways of thinking about domination and submission, and life and love. There is always something to learn and all these bloggers are to be commended for their rich thoughts. I count a few of them as my friends in the sky, and I commend their blogs to you.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
What is sexy?
Ever since I was a university student, I have wondered, what is sexy? When I was in college, I would see a boy pair off with a girl, to become a couple, and I would wonder, ‘What does she see in him?’ or ‘What does he see in her?’ To my eye, she wasn’t pretty and he wasn’t interesting. Yet, they seemed made for each other.
It has always made me ponder, what is ‘sexy’? What is it that one person sees in another, but so few other people see in that person?
I admit that I am picky about people. I’m open and friendly and welcoming and engaging. I’d certainly not be rude to someone unless absolutely necessary, but the truth is that I am picky as to the people whose company I actually enjoy. If they want to ‘gas on’ about the property market or their latest trip to the ski fields, or how their daughter is the best and brightest child that God ever put breath into, it is really hard work for me to give them my full attention. It is about the time when I begin to nod enthusiastically at the same time as my mind thinks about sex.
I say this here because, naturally enough, I can’t admit it anywhere else. I think about sex and sexual matters all the time. The older I get, the more I think about sex. I think about it a lot more than I did in my twenties and I certainly thought about it quite a lot back then. I’m told that this is not at all unusual. Apparently, older women are very sexual creatures.
My husband isn’t all that happy with me at the moment. He knows I’ve been out of sorts, and he is sympathetic, to a point. And yet, how can he really, in good conscience, condone rather poor behaviour? After he said goodbye to me this morning and we kissed, he said
“If a submissive woman is acting as if she needs to be disciplined, then you should not disappoint her. Think about that over the day. Write it down and think about it.”
I am thinking.
Then, he said,
“You are going to have to earn sexual pleasure, you know. It is not just going to come your way anymore, regardless of your behaviour.”
Now, he had my attention!
The older woman, if I am any guide, has a virile, fertile, lusty mind. The older woman, being older, wants what she wants. And, what she wants is sex. Not the kind of sex that lasts for a few minutes, but the kind that lasts for hours. She is a greedy, adventurous, demanding slut.
The next time you walk by a well dressed, very refined, older woman, you may be tempted to not give her a second look. After all, there are plenty of juicy young girls out there, all bubbly and bright. Why bother looking at an older woman?
Ah! But, you’ll never know what you are missing! Older women know what they want. And, what they want is very bad indeed. If you could read their minds, you would know what I mean.
It has always made me ponder, what is ‘sexy’? What is it that one person sees in another, but so few other people see in that person?
I admit that I am picky about people. I’m open and friendly and welcoming and engaging. I’d certainly not be rude to someone unless absolutely necessary, but the truth is that I am picky as to the people whose company I actually enjoy. If they want to ‘gas on’ about the property market or their latest trip to the ski fields, or how their daughter is the best and brightest child that God ever put breath into, it is really hard work for me to give them my full attention. It is about the time when I begin to nod enthusiastically at the same time as my mind thinks about sex.
I say this here because, naturally enough, I can’t admit it anywhere else. I think about sex and sexual matters all the time. The older I get, the more I think about sex. I think about it a lot more than I did in my twenties and I certainly thought about it quite a lot back then. I’m told that this is not at all unusual. Apparently, older women are very sexual creatures.
My husband isn’t all that happy with me at the moment. He knows I’ve been out of sorts, and he is sympathetic, to a point. And yet, how can he really, in good conscience, condone rather poor behaviour? After he said goodbye to me this morning and we kissed, he said
“If a submissive woman is acting as if she needs to be disciplined, then you should not disappoint her. Think about that over the day. Write it down and think about it.”
I am thinking.
Then, he said,
“You are going to have to earn sexual pleasure, you know. It is not just going to come your way anymore, regardless of your behaviour.”
Now, he had my attention!
The older woman, if I am any guide, has a virile, fertile, lusty mind. The older woman, being older, wants what she wants. And, what she wants is sex. Not the kind of sex that lasts for a few minutes, but the kind that lasts for hours. She is a greedy, adventurous, demanding slut.
The next time you walk by a well dressed, very refined, older woman, you may be tempted to not give her a second look. After all, there are plenty of juicy young girls out there, all bubbly and bright. Why bother looking at an older woman?
Ah! But, you’ll never know what you are missing! Older women know what they want. And, what they want is very bad indeed. If you could read their minds, you would know what I mean.
Monday, May 4, 2009
What's up his ass?
He wasn’t happy. He had been put on hold and that damned jingle in his ear was irritating the hell out of him. He began to snap at her.
“Viv, where have you put the notebook that was right here on my desk this morning?”
“I haven’t put it anywhere. I have not touched it.”
“Nonsense! It was right here, I tell you. Don’t you argue with me!”
She was in too good of a mood to let him get to her. It was water off a duck’s back this late afternoon.
“Sweetheart, I really don’t know where it is. I’ll look for it.”
“Don’t touch anything! How many times do I have to tell you not to touch anything in this room! You clean the rest of the house to your heart’s content, but don’t touch anything in here!”
“All right! I won’t touch anything.”
She turned her back and returned to filing the month’s bills. Under her breath:
“What’s up his ass?”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, darling! I was just thinking out loud about this bill.”
“Don’t you dare lie to me, Vivienne! You said something else. What did you say?”
“I’m not sure what I said, darling. I can’t remember.”
She was smiling a little, in spite of herself, seeing the funny side of his bad mood. How could someone get so upset about such a little thing?
He was not amused. He looked at her suspiciously while she got busy looking angelic.
“Did you call me an asshole, Vivienne?”
“No, sweetheart, of course I didn’t call you an ‘asshole’. That would be a terrible thing to say. It would be rude, and I am never rude!”
“That’s another lie, young lady. You are on thin ice.”
“Yes Sir.”
She didn’t want this to end badly. It was time to pull her head in.
“You said something that sounded like ‘ass’. Now, what did you say?”
“Perhaps...I was referring to an asterisk. That is probably what it was.”
“Vivienne!”
“Darling, I really don’t remember.”
He opened his lowest desk drawer and produced from it a nasty looking wooden paddle.
“Well, let me help you.”
She started to panic.
“No...No...I can remember...”
“Well, just so that you’re sure, bend over this desk.”
He came around and put his hand around the back of her neck, immobilising her. Then, he bent her over the desk, pulled up her summer dress and pulled down her panties, so that it was now her ass in the line of fire. Whilst he held her down with that hand, he pulled back with the paddle in the other, and gave her right cheek a good, hard wack.
“Owwwww”
And, then he wacked her again, and again, until he had paddled her a dozen times, and she was owwwing her head off.
“Do you remember, now, Viv? Or, do you need another dozen?”
She was panting hard.
“No...No...I remember. I remember clearly now.”
“I thought you might. Out with it, then.”
“I said...I said... “What’s up his ass?”
“Ah! ‘What’s up his ass?’ Yes, that is indeed what you said. Such a charming expression for a young, well bred lady to use, is it not?”
“I am sorry, Harry, I am very sorry.”
“Are you? Not sorry enough, I suspect. But, we can fix that.”
“Harry, I am really very sorry.”
“You’re a little too cheeky, for my liking, my dear.”
He was rubbing her bottom gently as he spoke.
“...and I don’t think I can let such a lovely red, warm ass go to waste, either.”
He was feeling in between her legs, now.
“...and...ohhh...it is rather wet down there, isn’t it?”
She was purring like a kitten now.
“Perhaps, the right thing to do, girl, is to put something up your ass. Perhaps, that would be the best way to remind you in the future, that you should watch your language. I think so.”
She wasn’t really concentrating on his words any more. She was lost in pleasurable thoughts and sensations. But, she did hear him say,
“Push out, girl.”
She could feel his cock up against her hole, and with little difficulty he entered her.
She felt herself drop into her submissive space; that place where she became inert and impassive; where she was a nothing, a toy, and she was his to do with as he pleased. She remained still and quiet as he pushed back and forth inside of her, with his deep grunts ultimately acknowledging his pleasurable coming.
He pulled out of her and went to clean up. He brought tissues and wiped her; dressed her and had her stand to face him.
She was not cheeky anymore; rather, subdued, contained, at peace; looking down at his shoes.
“And, we won’t have any more of that cheeky, rude language, will we, Vivienne?”
“No Sir.”
“All right. Off you go and make us a pot of tea, please. A little refreshment is in order.”
“Yes Sir.”
She skedaddled out of the room. Seemingly out of range of his earshot, smiling, she mumbled,
“What’s up his ass?”
“Vivienne!”
“Viv, where have you put the notebook that was right here on my desk this morning?”
“I haven’t put it anywhere. I have not touched it.”
“Nonsense! It was right here, I tell you. Don’t you argue with me!”
She was in too good of a mood to let him get to her. It was water off a duck’s back this late afternoon.
“Sweetheart, I really don’t know where it is. I’ll look for it.”
“Don’t touch anything! How many times do I have to tell you not to touch anything in this room! You clean the rest of the house to your heart’s content, but don’t touch anything in here!”
“All right! I won’t touch anything.”
She turned her back and returned to filing the month’s bills. Under her breath:
“What’s up his ass?”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, darling! I was just thinking out loud about this bill.”
“Don’t you dare lie to me, Vivienne! You said something else. What did you say?”
“I’m not sure what I said, darling. I can’t remember.”
She was smiling a little, in spite of herself, seeing the funny side of his bad mood. How could someone get so upset about such a little thing?
He was not amused. He looked at her suspiciously while she got busy looking angelic.
“Did you call me an asshole, Vivienne?”
“No, sweetheart, of course I didn’t call you an ‘asshole’. That would be a terrible thing to say. It would be rude, and I am never rude!”
“That’s another lie, young lady. You are on thin ice.”
“Yes Sir.”
She didn’t want this to end badly. It was time to pull her head in.
“You said something that sounded like ‘ass’. Now, what did you say?”
“Perhaps...I was referring to an asterisk. That is probably what it was.”
“Vivienne!”
“Darling, I really don’t remember.”
He opened his lowest desk drawer and produced from it a nasty looking wooden paddle.
“Well, let me help you.”
She started to panic.
“No...No...I can remember...”
“Well, just so that you’re sure, bend over this desk.”
He came around and put his hand around the back of her neck, immobilising her. Then, he bent her over the desk, pulled up her summer dress and pulled down her panties, so that it was now her ass in the line of fire. Whilst he held her down with that hand, he pulled back with the paddle in the other, and gave her right cheek a good, hard wack.
“Owwwww”
And, then he wacked her again, and again, until he had paddled her a dozen times, and she was owwwing her head off.
“Do you remember, now, Viv? Or, do you need another dozen?”
She was panting hard.
“No...No...I remember. I remember clearly now.”
“I thought you might. Out with it, then.”
“I said...I said... “What’s up his ass?”
“Ah! ‘What’s up his ass?’ Yes, that is indeed what you said. Such a charming expression for a young, well bred lady to use, is it not?”
“I am sorry, Harry, I am very sorry.”
“Are you? Not sorry enough, I suspect. But, we can fix that.”
“Harry, I am really very sorry.”
“You’re a little too cheeky, for my liking, my dear.”
He was rubbing her bottom gently as he spoke.
“...and I don’t think I can let such a lovely red, warm ass go to waste, either.”
He was feeling in between her legs, now.
“...and...ohhh...it is rather wet down there, isn’t it?”
She was purring like a kitten now.
“Perhaps, the right thing to do, girl, is to put something up your ass. Perhaps, that would be the best way to remind you in the future, that you should watch your language. I think so.”
She wasn’t really concentrating on his words any more. She was lost in pleasurable thoughts and sensations. But, she did hear him say,
“Push out, girl.”
She could feel his cock up against her hole, and with little difficulty he entered her.
She felt herself drop into her submissive space; that place where she became inert and impassive; where she was a nothing, a toy, and she was his to do with as he pleased. She remained still and quiet as he pushed back and forth inside of her, with his deep grunts ultimately acknowledging his pleasurable coming.
He pulled out of her and went to clean up. He brought tissues and wiped her; dressed her and had her stand to face him.
She was not cheeky anymore; rather, subdued, contained, at peace; looking down at his shoes.
“And, we won’t have any more of that cheeky, rude language, will we, Vivienne?”
“No Sir.”
“All right. Off you go and make us a pot of tea, please. A little refreshment is in order.”
“Yes Sir.”
She skedaddled out of the room. Seemingly out of range of his earshot, smiling, she mumbled,
“What’s up his ass?”
“Vivienne!”
Dignity and grace
I was greatly touched by two lovely comments left for me in my last post. It prompted me just now to look up the definitions of two words they had used – grace and dignity. Interestingly, neither word is particularly easy to define, with there being some indecision as to a perfect definition. Nevertheless, broadly speaking, ‘grace’ is defined as being to grant forgiveness, or good will, loving, kindness and/or favour. ‘Dignity’ is defined as the quality of being worthy of esteem or respect.
Well, I must say that I am humbled to have my thoughts as those defined as being with dignity and grace. I am going to try to live up to that lovely sentiment.
Whilst I have many faults, I know in my heart that I have attempted to live up to the sentiment expressed in those comments. I don’t believe in giving up on people easily and I tread lightly through this life. I mean no-one any harm and I confess I am always greatly surprised when they do something unkind to me.
I don’t think that there is any sure way to spot a submissive woman, but I would like to think that they are the gentle people of the world. My husband tells me often that I am too soft, and that part of his job is to protect me from the hardness of life. Interestingly, my softness disappears when my children are in need of my protection. I am not inclined at all to ask for favour for myself but I can speak up for one of the children instantly if they need me to. When the little boy beside mine in the choir was going to make his life a misery over the weekend, up I went to talk to the choirmaster to have the matter addressed, and it was dealt with to my satisfaction. If it had been me needing to endure some unpleasant character, I would have stayed silent and got through it the best way I could. That is the difference.
I don’t need a flashy life. I don’t need to be rich. I don’t need powerful or famous friends. Acquisition of valuables is not necessary. I look to make my home as appealing and welcoming as I can, to embrace and love my family, to enjoy my friends and meet interesting people, and hopefully to see more of the world. More than anything, I seek a happy marriage, to be lovingly dominated and to be blissfully happy within my submission. I seek peace of mind.
I do indeed seek to live with dignity and grace. And, that your soul reached out to my soul to express that thought to me...well, all I can say is that I am exceedingly fortunate to have such lovely cyberspace friends. Thank you.
Well, I must say that I am humbled to have my thoughts as those defined as being with dignity and grace. I am going to try to live up to that lovely sentiment.
Whilst I have many faults, I know in my heart that I have attempted to live up to the sentiment expressed in those comments. I don’t believe in giving up on people easily and I tread lightly through this life. I mean no-one any harm and I confess I am always greatly surprised when they do something unkind to me.
I don’t think that there is any sure way to spot a submissive woman, but I would like to think that they are the gentle people of the world. My husband tells me often that I am too soft, and that part of his job is to protect me from the hardness of life. Interestingly, my softness disappears when my children are in need of my protection. I am not inclined at all to ask for favour for myself but I can speak up for one of the children instantly if they need me to. When the little boy beside mine in the choir was going to make his life a misery over the weekend, up I went to talk to the choirmaster to have the matter addressed, and it was dealt with to my satisfaction. If it had been me needing to endure some unpleasant character, I would have stayed silent and got through it the best way I could. That is the difference.
I don’t need a flashy life. I don’t need to be rich. I don’t need powerful or famous friends. Acquisition of valuables is not necessary. I look to make my home as appealing and welcoming as I can, to embrace and love my family, to enjoy my friends and meet interesting people, and hopefully to see more of the world. More than anything, I seek a happy marriage, to be lovingly dominated and to be blissfully happy within my submission. I seek peace of mind.
I do indeed seek to live with dignity and grace. And, that your soul reached out to my soul to express that thought to me...well, all I can say is that I am exceedingly fortunate to have such lovely cyberspace friends. Thank you.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Letting go
Many years ago I was introduced to a rather distant family member. Even then, he seemed old, in the sense that he was from the ‘old world’; from a time when people were civil in all circumstances. He was incredibly gracious; welcoming and kind; immovable, but in a nice way. His standards of behaviour were high at all times, and yet he was always calm and always quiet. I liked him immediately.
Over the years, we shared a good number of meals. He and his wife would sometimes cook us a wonderful roast meal with a fruit sponge for dessert. Do any of you remember the ‘Sunday roast’? He was ‘mine host’ at such events, and he just had to know that you were happy in every way.
“Would you care for another glass of wine, my dear? Or, I could offer you a port? Let me tell you what I have.”
They would come to our little house for a meal sometimes, and when we lived overseas, they even made the trek out to the country to visit us there. In more recent years, we’ve had them here for family celebrations.
He’s old now, very old, and he is not long for this earth. He’s in a nursing home, and if we don’t go and visit him very soon, we will have left our run too late, and that would be a great shame.
J was a prisoner of war in World War 11. He was a pilot and a feisty lad, and he tried to steal a Japanese aeroplane. And, he almost did, but, not quite. They locked him in solitary confinement in an extremely confined space for many months. He kept his marbles by throwing a button into the air and trying to find it. That’s J. Never give up! He didn’t tell me that story. That’s not his style. I heard it third hand from another family member who managed to get it out of him somehow.
When the going gets tough and I need to dig deep to find my courage, I think about J and that button. I think about the way he lived his life, with a deep integrity and honesty and a sense of what is right. I think the world of him and I guess my husband and I made a strong connection over the years, for it was to many family members’ chagrin that he had chosen us to be on the ‘high table’ with him at his special birthday affair, ahead of those closer to him.
His son is unable to see what I see in J. Unfortunately, he sees him as judgemental; that he didn’t care for his choices in life. He sees the standards as rigid and he considers him uncompromising. I think it is a shame. All his life he has possessed noble qualities. He has been honourable and true. He had much to pass on.
Nobody’s perfect. I may well have my rose-coloured glasses on when I see J. After all, I never lived with him. But these old guys, that have lived through wars, and endured horrors and seen it all, they just keep keeping on. They have backbone.
Some days I feel a bit like J in that confined space, when he did whatever he could to endure through to the next day. The hardest thing about life can be, not knowing when a difficulty will end. You can almost touch what you want, but not quite.
I received a little piece of advice this morning via email from someone who knew that I was having a hard time. He wrote,
“I encourage you to take the risk of seeing the joy in your life and letting the rest go.”
J would agree with that. See the joy. Forgive. Let it go.
I entered the D/s arena to learn just that; to learn to let go, to forgive, to embrace the joy in my life.
Learning about yourself, the good and the bad, is not easy, but we, in this ‘space’ as they like to call it, have the courage to go on that path of exploration.
Like J, we are doing our best to live with courage and honour; to ‘let go’. I think that really says something very positive about us all.
Over the years, we shared a good number of meals. He and his wife would sometimes cook us a wonderful roast meal with a fruit sponge for dessert. Do any of you remember the ‘Sunday roast’? He was ‘mine host’ at such events, and he just had to know that you were happy in every way.
“Would you care for another glass of wine, my dear? Or, I could offer you a port? Let me tell you what I have.”
They would come to our little house for a meal sometimes, and when we lived overseas, they even made the trek out to the country to visit us there. In more recent years, we’ve had them here for family celebrations.
He’s old now, very old, and he is not long for this earth. He’s in a nursing home, and if we don’t go and visit him very soon, we will have left our run too late, and that would be a great shame.
J was a prisoner of war in World War 11. He was a pilot and a feisty lad, and he tried to steal a Japanese aeroplane. And, he almost did, but, not quite. They locked him in solitary confinement in an extremely confined space for many months. He kept his marbles by throwing a button into the air and trying to find it. That’s J. Never give up! He didn’t tell me that story. That’s not his style. I heard it third hand from another family member who managed to get it out of him somehow.
When the going gets tough and I need to dig deep to find my courage, I think about J and that button. I think about the way he lived his life, with a deep integrity and honesty and a sense of what is right. I think the world of him and I guess my husband and I made a strong connection over the years, for it was to many family members’ chagrin that he had chosen us to be on the ‘high table’ with him at his special birthday affair, ahead of those closer to him.
His son is unable to see what I see in J. Unfortunately, he sees him as judgemental; that he didn’t care for his choices in life. He sees the standards as rigid and he considers him uncompromising. I think it is a shame. All his life he has possessed noble qualities. He has been honourable and true. He had much to pass on.
Nobody’s perfect. I may well have my rose-coloured glasses on when I see J. After all, I never lived with him. But these old guys, that have lived through wars, and endured horrors and seen it all, they just keep keeping on. They have backbone.
Some days I feel a bit like J in that confined space, when he did whatever he could to endure through to the next day. The hardest thing about life can be, not knowing when a difficulty will end. You can almost touch what you want, but not quite.
I received a little piece of advice this morning via email from someone who knew that I was having a hard time. He wrote,
“I encourage you to take the risk of seeing the joy in your life and letting the rest go.”
J would agree with that. See the joy. Forgive. Let it go.
I entered the D/s arena to learn just that; to learn to let go, to forgive, to embrace the joy in my life.
Learning about yourself, the good and the bad, is not easy, but we, in this ‘space’ as they like to call it, have the courage to go on that path of exploration.
Like J, we are doing our best to live with courage and honour; to ‘let go’. I think that really says something very positive about us all.
Friday, May 1, 2009
A soul kiss
“I’ve been trying not to notice
But girl you shine so bright
Like a shooting star
In the darkness of the night”
I have a Ray Charles CD in the music player in my bedroom at the moment, and these words play over and over in my mind.
Men are so attracted to a woman’s look. They are so visual, so smitten by a woman’s smile, or eyes, or the way her skirt caresses her ass. They notice her shoes, her stockings, her fingers, and the way she shakes her head and the movement of her hair. Nothing escapes them. I noticed a man watching me as I walked back to the car this morning, after taking the dog for her beauty session (read: clip and wash). I loved that he looked but of course, as soon as he saw me watching him watching me, he looked away. Don’t they teach guys to hold a woman’s gaze a little longer than that? Not that I was interested, but still, guys have to know these things!
Anyway, the point is, that the internet is an amazing sky, really, when you think about it. And a girl can shine bright without even being seen. Her mind can be like a shooting star. And, a man’s mind can be like a shooting star, too. It makes me wonder. Do we put too much stock into appearance? Is it not the mind that is more alluring than the body? I don’t know the answer. But, for two people to have a discussion that lasts a lifetime, surely it is the two minds that must be attracted, too.
When a person opens their mind to another; their heart, their soul and their mind, and the other person listens, it is uplifting. It is like a delectable little piece of ‘love’. It is a “soul kiss”. Janus taught me that phrase and I love it. When he used it, it wasn’t quite like that. We’d had a tiff and were making up and he asked me to tell him what I loved about him. You don’t need to be in love to give someone a soul kiss. But, you do need to really listen to someone well enough for them to know that you are listening carefully and that you care.
Take a risk! Give someone a soul kiss and see the joy you bring, to them and to yourself!
But girl you shine so bright
Like a shooting star
In the darkness of the night”
I have a Ray Charles CD in the music player in my bedroom at the moment, and these words play over and over in my mind.
Men are so attracted to a woman’s look. They are so visual, so smitten by a woman’s smile, or eyes, or the way her skirt caresses her ass. They notice her shoes, her stockings, her fingers, and the way she shakes her head and the movement of her hair. Nothing escapes them. I noticed a man watching me as I walked back to the car this morning, after taking the dog for her beauty session (read: clip and wash). I loved that he looked but of course, as soon as he saw me watching him watching me, he looked away. Don’t they teach guys to hold a woman’s gaze a little longer than that? Not that I was interested, but still, guys have to know these things!
Anyway, the point is, that the internet is an amazing sky, really, when you think about it. And a girl can shine bright without even being seen. Her mind can be like a shooting star. And, a man’s mind can be like a shooting star, too. It makes me wonder. Do we put too much stock into appearance? Is it not the mind that is more alluring than the body? I don’t know the answer. But, for two people to have a discussion that lasts a lifetime, surely it is the two minds that must be attracted, too.
When a person opens their mind to another; their heart, their soul and their mind, and the other person listens, it is uplifting. It is like a delectable little piece of ‘love’. It is a “soul kiss”. Janus taught me that phrase and I love it. When he used it, it wasn’t quite like that. We’d had a tiff and were making up and he asked me to tell him what I loved about him. You don’t need to be in love to give someone a soul kiss. But, you do need to really listen to someone well enough for them to know that you are listening carefully and that you care.
Take a risk! Give someone a soul kiss and see the joy you bring, to them and to yourself!
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