Today

In  the morning, sitting in front of my computer, cats curled at my feet, i get ready to blog.  i become aware of myself, my breathing, my body – the rise and fall of my chest, as i breathe in and out.  Looking inside, sitting very still, waiting.   If i turn my palms up, they tingle.

Sometimes, when i start typing i don’t know what to expect. 

Today, i’m thinking about fantasy.  The power and the symbolism. 

In a comment yesterday, Yesthankyousir mentioned an experience that had been painful for her because it tapped into “the eternal sadness” of not being able to please her father.  I love that way of putting it, and know that particular angst myself, although i’ve let go of a lot of it in the last few years.

Of course, the reality is not so much that we weren’t able to please, as that some fathers are not able to be pleased.  But i wonder how much of my submissiveness connects with that deep longing to please my Dad, never quite achieved.   Well, it doesn’t matter so much.

Wild at Heart, by John Eldredge is actually a “Christian” book about men, and i read it at just the right time to learn from it.   He mentions three things a woman needs, – 1.  An Adventure to Share  2.  To Be Found Captivating and 3.  A Beauty to Unveil.  

Obviously, that’s not what we need as people, not what we need in common with men, but what we need as women.  And really, beyond that, it speaks to the feminine in each of us – and his thoughts on men speak to the masculine aspect in us all.

But when he talks about being “captivating” he describes a little girl dancing, twirling, dancing to please who?  The image touched me to tears, and i had that memory – i could feel myself  dancing when i was maybe 5 or 6.  

Sigh.

Ok, this is all too complex, i don’t know where i’m going with this today. 

Longing, sadness. 

Damn it.

You know, my first husband totally expected me to be emotionally ok without any support from him.  So i was thrilled, after my divorce, to meet men who were supportive, who didn’t mind if i cried, who would hold me and say sweet things.  Then –

{laughing}

i discovered that those men liked me best when i was at my worst.  When i was strong and capable – not so much.  They were at their worst.  Let me have a little meltdown, and they suddenly were at their best.

It took me a while to figure out that they needed to be knights in shining armour, and unless i could be damsel in distress most of the time,  the relationship just wasn’t going to work.

Sigh.

So training schools and slave markets and all those kinds of fantasies – are they just our efforts to ensure that we please?

In Story of O, at the end – after O has done everything Sir Stephen asks of her – she’s been used and whipped and shared and pierced and even branded – and then at the end – he releases her.  He doesn’t want her anymore.  

She’s lost.  Devestated.

The foreword of the book makes it sound like that means we don’t want freedom, that people are drawn to slavery, but i don’t think that’s it.  i think it’s a terrible betrayal because – she’d done every single thing he wanted.  The promise there is that we’ll be held forever captive.  He brands her with his mark.  How can that not mean forever?

In real life, slave Alisha has written about her struggles along the same lines (without the branding, of course.)   Giving all you have doesn’t seem to make D/s relationships work any more than it does vanilla relationships.  Alisha has moved so far beyond that now, i love to read about her new life.

Ok, so time’s passing, i still don’t know what this post is about.  {laughing} Usually, by now, i have some clue where i’m headed.

O, so maybe it’s like me at the moment – not actually headed anywhere.  In limbo.  Liminal time.

Liminal time is time betwixt and between.   i love the sound of that. 

If i understand it correctly – which may not be the case – subspace is liminal time – partway between reality and fantasy.  Domspace too, i suppose. 

 Time is different – like an accordian.  A week flies by; an hour is a lifetime.

Waiting now, with my mother, with Hospice, is liminal time, i think.

i have not heard from Sir D since Saturday, when i e-mailed Him a brief apology, of sorts, for having been snappy in a phone conversation.    He’s texted me good night a couple of times, but we haven’t spoken, or IM’ed or e-mailed.  That feels odd too – more liminal time.   As if we’re frozen in a bubble.

When i break the bubble, things won’t be the same.

So i wait.

Becoming very still, very aware of my self.  Noticing my breath, the rise and fall of my chest, as i breathe in and breathe out.    Just noticing my body, allowing myself to be open to the universe. 

i am here today.