better news

So, in spite of the turmoil around here these days, I just have to share. Alison has another book out with a delicious cover.

It seems I have another story out in printed form. And the folks at Amazon.com were kind enough to smoosh me up next to Sommer in the description. Yummy...

Think that's enough shameless self promotion?

Blessings,
Raven (aka Diana St.John)

an open letter to my family

By way of introduction, let me say that this week has been one of horrendous communication and conflict between myself and my husband, and among the members of my family of choice/poly-faithful group. For those who are on FetLife, it has been apparent in status changes of myself, my husband, his mistress DeviantBitch, and my dominant Mr. Wycked. It may be that this is the reason people exist, by and large, in partnerships, rather than in groups. Yesterday I was hurting so very badly that I was looking for a different place to live, along with letting go of DB and Mr.W. Today, while none of the issues are resolved, per se, much better communication has taken place, so that C (aka SamtheEagle) and I are at least moving forward rather than backwards.

I wrote a letter to all of the members of this grouping earlier today. I'm posting it here for a variety of reasons, some of which I'm not ready to articulate publicly.

Nonetheless...here it is.

Blessings,
Raven

******
I’ve talked with C about this somewhat today; I’ve made texts to you two, Mr.Wycked and DeviantBitch, about some of this. It struck me today, thinking about the past few days, there’s an old saying in the Christian scriptures that love never fails. I wondered, then, what that meant about what we have all said over these past months about family, love, and commitment, whether it was based on the high exhilaration of lust, starry-eyed naiveté, or something else, or if it was based on love.

I believe it was about love, and I believe, as my profile on FetLife reads, that love is a choice. It isn’t an emotion; it’s that thing that holds people together when those wonderful feelings aren’t anywhere around. My pulling away yesterday, in the midst of my despair, was not the best of what love is, and after much soul searching these past days, I want you to know that I choose love.

To C – my husband, the father of our children. I love you in a way I love no others, in a way I promised to you in front of God and others. We belong to each other, body and soul. That has not changed, and will not change.

To Mr.Wycked – my dominant. I love you for the fact that you are fantastic at stripping away that which is nonessential in my life; the useless things I cling to when I am spinning out of control, and then call forth the best in me such that I have the best to give to my beloved husband, my children, my dear friend/sister DeviantBitch, and everyone else with whom I come into contact.

To DeviantBitch – my sister/friend with whom I share so much. In different ways, we are blessed to love, in different ways, the same two men. I still smile when I think how the sweet pea ran up and took your hand when you two came to dinner, inviting you to be her slave and push her on the swing ad nauseum, or the few times we spent together, just the two of us. Girlfriends with whom I can share all of myself with are rare in my life; I would hate to lose you.

I am encouraged by some of the communication happening up here in the hills today; and I am aware that I want to continue choosing to love you all. You are still my family of choice. Your mileage, of course, may vary.

There is also a concept that sometimes that which is strongest has to be tested by fire, sometimes more than once. There are a boatload of people on the far right, far left, and everywhere in between who are willing to tell us that choosing to love in this intentional community/poly-faithful group is impossible, and would love to see us fail and give us the, “I told you so” treatment. Perhaps this is part of the process of growing stronger.

Yesterday I would have told anyone who listened that if God exists, then God is a sick fuck to have brought us here only to break our hearts. Today, I go back and re-read some of my blog posts about the idea of the Paschal mystery – the idea expressed in most major religious traditions that suffering and death lead in some form to new life. It’s the mystery of the Cross, the mystery of reincarnation, and the reality expressed by a symbol we have all considered as a family symbol over the past months – the ouroboros.

And if I could have gotten a tattoo of an ouroboros today, even knowing that the reality exists that this has permanently fractured us, I would have done so. Because love never fails.

I love you all,
Raven

wrestling

That night Jacob got up and took his two wives, his two maidservants and his eleven sons and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. ²³ After he had sent them across the stream, he sent over all his possessions. ²⁴ So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. ²⁵ When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob's hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. ²⁶ Then the man said, "Let me go, for it is daybreak." But Jacob replied, "I will not let you go unless you bless me."²⁷ The man asked him, "What is your name?" "Jacob," he answered. ²⁸ Then the man said, "Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, ^e]">[e] because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome."²⁹ Jacob said, "Please tell me your name."But he replied, "Why do you ask my name?" Then he blessed him there. ³⁰ So Jacob called the place Peniel, ^f]">[f] saying, "It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared."

In the earlier post I just wrote, I alluded to an amazing adventure of building a poly family. It's a post that I have been wanting to write for some time. The experience of writing, however, was colored by who I am today and what experiences are most at the forefront of my mind, namely, that we are experiencing some communication difficulties within the group, leading (I think) to jealousy in one member, though given the communication at the moment, I'm not entirely sure, and I'm learning to try not to assume the emotions of others.

With that said - earlier today I was writing to another member of the family that this could make me rethink the committment. And then I thought about it a lot and realized how foolish that could be, to encounter challenge - and flee. It's reactionary, to say the least. It also is the antitheses of love as a decision.

As the day has worn on - my resolve to stay and to work through this has strengthened amazingly. Now more than ever, I am determined to do my part to make this work, to model healthy communication, to choose love - for myself and for truth, as well as for each person in this family, and in a very particular way, for the person whose emotions are in such turmoil.

Once upon a time I had nipple piercings. For a variety of reasons, mostly related to pregnancy and breastfeeding, I have taken them out.

I've been toying with the idea of having one or both put back. Today, as my resolve to choose love strengthened, the thought grew that I want something permanent in my skin that marks that resolve, reminding me of this struggle, and of the choice to which I will be faithful.

So getting the kids fed and changed (we played in the garden earlier, so dirtiness abounds).

And then off to the piercer.

Love and blessings,
Raven

my big kinky poly family

I keep wanting to write, but between the part that the little guy isn't sleeping well and, well, the part where I really don't know how to start this post, I keep putting it off.

So much for being a writer.

There have been some wonderful, challenging developments around here lately; those of you who see me on FetLife might know what those are.

I've mentioned my husband's mistress on here...she's an amazing, wonderful woman who I have come to love dearly. She makes me laugh, she makes me think, and is just a hell of a lot of fun to be around. It's also a trip to see my 5-year-old daughter top her when she comes to visit.

I've mentioned my own dominant, Mr. Wycked, he of the gorgeous bondage furniture and toys, which I loved even when I first met him at Folsom Fringe 2007 and he explained why he wouldn't make portable or easily-disguised furniture.

There's another dynamic forming, however, that is not so easily categorized, but is very real. C (aka SamtheEagle on FetLife) was the first to identify it as this. The term we're using is poly family. As DB refers to it, we're a pleather family.

I have to admit - I have my own biases about the polyamory label; am a bit more comfortable with a variation found in The Ethical Slut called polyfidelity. Admittedly, my biases about the term polyamory have a lot to do with my assumptions that polyamory is a term people use to try to excuse promiscuity. And this is most decidedly not about being promiscuous. Within this grouping, C and I have intimacies and activities that are exclusive to us alone. As a group, we have discussed and continue to discuss what is okay in our minds for each of the pairings to do. The is the most extensive way in which we speak of what each couple does for a variety of reasons, I don't wish to hear the details of C's time with DeviantBitch; he doesn't wish to hear much of what I do with Mr. Wycked, and we don't really need specifics regarding what happens between Mr. Wycked and DB. We're all maintaining our individual lives - we *don't* all live together, nor do we plan on doing so at any point in the future. We try to each check in with each other and as a group on a regular basis - sometimes over coffee, sometimes over Sunday night family dinner with the kids present. Last weekend, with C gone, his mistress came up and gardened with me and the kids. Only she and the sweet girl child know what all is in that first raised bed; there's quite a collection of seeds and plants of all sorts, it seems.

We're not entirely sure what this means. It does mean that it's increased the complexity and amount of communication that each of us has to choose to maintain. One might say that it increased the communication needs exponentially rather than in an additive way. Even as I write this, the next post is formulating in my mind that deals with some of the complexity and challenge of choosing to create and support a family-of-choice dynamic when moments of difficulty do not get resolved with communication, but instead fester and cause lingering hurt feelings.

One of the ways of describing this relationship, for me, is that of an intentional community, marked by committment to the members of the family. One of the things that encourages me is the committment we are making to each other and to the whole - that even when difficult issues come up, we will endeavor to choose love and move through them. We have all certainly heard horror stores of poly families of varying arrangements that have fallen apart and had disastrous consequences for all involved, including children of various family members. We have *every* intention of not letting this happen.

So - that is where things are now. It is amazing to walk this journey in a unique way with my spouse and my chosen family members, who I love deeply and who love me. It became profound last weekend, when I was having an unusually severe time with instant depresssion brought on by an extreme lack of sleep with C out of town during the last month while baby A's canine teeth have been making their grand push through his gums; as a result, my sleep over the past month has come largely in 2 hour blocks, and that's been when I've gotten any. Last Friday, as a result, I fell apart. It may have been the most severe experience of depression, certainly wtih very little warning/buildup, that I have ever had. C was on the phone listening, helpless to do anything - other than mobilizing the forces, as it were, and communicated on my behalf to Mr. W and DB (I tend to withdraw when I get depressed), and while he was talking me through the worst of it, they were preparing to come up here and help, if need be. (There wasn't much they could do, and I eventually felt safe enough to stay on my own, but when baby A is uncomfortable, I'm the only one he wants, and there really isn't anything anyone else can do; trying otherwise just escalates him). It was a profound experience of community, however, and something I'm not likely to forget soon.

I don't know where this journey will take us. I know that I will be enriched for experiencing whatever it brings.

Love and blessings,
Raven

chaos calmed

Lest I leave everyone hanging after my last post, let me dive back in and say that everything's fine. No, it's better than fine. Let me 'xplain

The night I wrote my last blog entry, my little dude didn't sleep. Again. So the morning of my session, I was in a mood. Some of the words that come to mind are cranky, tired, exhausted, whining, frustrated, angry, and a whole host of other ones, but I think you get the drift. And a dangerous emotional place for me that really starts coming out after about 3 nights of no sleep. Among other things, even I'm aware of having a very flat affect. I'm just too tired/frustrated/scared/depressed to care about anything. Sleep's a funny thing...

So I mentioned all of this to my dominant, nearly telling him that I just couldn't do this, but stopping short and leaving it in his hands. Sweetheart that he is, he mentioned something about a sub care night and masssage. Yummy. :)

Through the day my mood bounced around quite a bit. And that curious water rule...

The flat affect and just totally drained feeling got me to a place where, I wasn't intending to test him on the water thing (though I question my motivation in retrospect); I simply felt too drained and tired to care. It wasn't a digging in my heels kind of brat mood - just simply not enough of anything in me , as I put it then, to actually give a shit about drinking water, or the consequences for ignoring that.

I texted him at some point asking if I could have a pass for water that day. I've unfortunately reset the software on my cell phone, so I can't quote exactly what went back and forth as I had intended. One quote is rather firmly embedded in my mind, though; I havce a feeling you can get the gist of the conversation with just this tasty morsel. He texted, "I'd rather spank your ass than break it."

You figured out that one too?

I did, in fact, divert to Target, pick up a few water bottles, and start chugging...and the elevation in my mood by the time I was there probably had nothing to do with it, right? (And then the sadist made me *wait* to pee...including while he pressed on my belly. Damn!)

It wasn't so much that I had the brat type energy where I was testing; I do think there was probably a different sort of testing going on, though. It was a place of, "this is hard, I'm having a hard time, and I don't want to." Which he was well aware of, was only trying to make me take care of myself, and to experience that I will be held to taking care of myself and following the rules he's set down for me, even when the going gets tough. (and, let's not forget, it's only flipping water!) More than anything, I really wanted the experience of knowing that when my world is swirling out of control, he is there to provide some of that control when I simply can't. And that is a very, very good thing.

Did I mention it was fun, too? There was a long lovely climax during flogging... :)

[setcontentedsigh=on]

Blessings,
Raven

chaos theory

I'm supposed to have a session with Mr. Wycked. And I'm seriously pinging. The little dude won't sleep or eat. I'm cranky from the fact that he wouldn't sleep last night.

And I'm afraid I'm going to forget some detail of being ready. I'm still not in a groove yet, so it would be so easy to forget an instruction or task so easily.

And I'm just spinning, not in a good way, afraid of failing.

Not seriously afraid, but worried that I will get so caught up in the minutiae of mundane stuff, and my serious sense of perfectionism, that I won't get this submission thing right. That what will come out is not submission, but all of my frustration, my whining, my imperfections, all out there for him to see. Not like I seriously think I'm perfect, of course. LOL. (The visual reminder of all of this fucking laundry seems to be in my face reminding me of that). But I want to be perfect at this.

And I'm beyond frustrated that I'm just not.

And it's bugging me.

Raven

i *heart* my husband's new mistress

(note: this post is going to be nowhere near long enough to express what I'm feeling, due to home logistics constraints. but I want to post it *now*)

I'm one of the luckiest women in the world. I have a husband who I adore, who adores me, and is brave enough to navigate the crazy, uncharted water that is me.

I'm also lucky because I love his new mistress, and I'm probably one of the few women who is able to say such a thing about one's husband's mistress and mean it. My sweet husband, profile name sam the eagle on FetLife, is committed as a submissive to his mistress, DeviantBitch916. I understand a formal collaring is in the works, but I wanted to be the first to give my blessing publicly, as well as to tell them both how absolutely joyous I am for them as they begin this journey together.

Love you two...

Blessings on the journey,
Raven

the nascent sessions

Oh what a journey this is shaping up to be!

I had a session with my dominant Thursday night; a time of clarification of boundaries and expectations, a time of play and exploration, and a time of punishment. I know, it's just astounding to believe I would have tested the very first rule I requested, the very first couple of weeks.

Stop snickering.

Since I know no one's on here with any voyeuristic instincts and just wants to read my philosophical ponderings on the whole experience rather than reading any word pictures of how punishment or play might have looked, I'll oblige.

The whole experience left me feeling profoundly blessed and grateful - to him for getting it and giving me the many different parts of what I need; to my spouse for trusting me/us with our respective journeys; and to the Divine for the blessing of getting this gift at what seems to be the perfect time in my life.

Oh - did you say you really did want to know specifics?

On the topic of rules and expectations and consequences, we took a moment to clarify how that will work between us. Mainly, he reassured me in words that he takes that part seriously; that he might not remind me, and he won't necessarily tell me all week just what it is that I've earned. It may not always be a spanking. But I'm entrusting him with this - to help me reinforce some habits I've had mixed success with reinforcing on my own and giving me a safe way to blow off steam and experience a sense of beginning again when I fail, rather than getting caught up in a tailspin of "I never do xxx right, so I might as well stop trying"

That was how the rule - the one I requested - of drinking a minimum of 8 glasses of water a day went. (I requested this rule because I suck at drinking enough water, and I've been hospitalized for dehydration before when left to my own devices on this one, not to mention the regular headaches I get when I try to live on coffee and Mountain Dew). It went well for about 2 days. 3 if I round up on the water I drank the third day. And then I just sort of got into a mood, and in my mind, said, "fuck it" and promptly stopped being clear with him about how I was faring with this rule, along with not drinking water altogether. I also had asked him to check in with me on my school work for my MPA program. While I'm willing to be somewhat gentle with myself with the reality that I'm balancing grad school with work and parenting 2 small children, it's also easy to use that as an excuse to forgo doing homework. That leaves me at the end of each class scrambling to read, write papers, and be ready for finals, which doesn't exactly bring out the most pleasant aspects of my personality.

After having to admit this to him, he reassured me with his actions that he takes this part seriously. He paddled me. From my perspective, it felt hard, primarily because there was no warmup. Let me tell you that 7 swats with a heavy wood paddle feels like much longer of a paddling than it looks like in text. It was intense, both emotionally and physically, and when it was over, the sense of relief I felt was something I have missed in a very long time.

Incidentally, I've not been at all tempted to ease up on the water drinking these past 2 days, and lest you think it's due to the promise that the punishment will be doubled next time, I think it's more related to the reality that I really don't want to have to look him in his amazing eyes and admit choosing not to obey. Funny how that works.

But on to more interesting matters. Assuming, of course, you think the thought of my pussy being cropped and whipped, then alternating with being teased with a Hitachi magic wand is interesting, of course.

Really, I didn't think you did, either. ;-)

Hm...maybe I should do some homework before continuing.

Playfully,
Raven

the wonder of it all

While I'm not practicing as a Catholic as regularly as I used to, there's no denying that particular pieces of the rhythm of Catholic life stay with me, gently nudging their way into my consciousness from time to time, usually a reminder more than a rebuke.

This time of year is like that; the call to change and sacrificial living of Lent gives way to the high holy days and the celebration of the Triduum - the single liturgy stretched out over 3 days that take us from the Last Supper to the celebration of the Easter Vigil after sundown on Holy Saturday. The Vigil is my favorite celebration of the Church year; while not kid friendly, there is something so profound about gathering as a family, telling and retelling the stories of salvation history from Creation to Abraham, the Exodus, to the prophets who all pointed to the redemptive work of Christ, and celebrating the ultimate triumph of life over death.

Even when I'm not observing as carefully as I would like, I miss it at times, and I smile when I realize that those gentle nudges of remembrance may well be heaven-sent. In a recent conversation with one of the most gifted catechists and liturgists I know, she was making some of the preparations for the Easter Vigil and in a very spontaneous moment, asked if I would like to be one of the lectors (lay readers of scripture) for the Vigil, and then in the next sentence said, "I didn't even know I was going to ask that until I did, but it was just right!" I've read at the Vigil before - it is a profoundly sacred responsibility, in my mind, to be entrusted with the work of sharing these sacred stories with the family of God, particularly as the Vigil is the night where we baptize adult converts, initiating them into full communion with us. While they're no doubt familiar with the stories, it's the first time they've heard them as part of the family, not from the outside looking in.

The process of Christian initiation (done well as a journey of faith rather than just as a series of classes to learn facts about Christianity) reminds me, at its best, of the journey of discovery that BDSM, at its best, can be as well. It also reminds me that sometimes in our impatience, we go out seeking to learn more, know more, do more - and yet, if the timing isn't right, or if there are ways we aren't really ready to go deeper into the mystery, the universe often waits rather than giving us what we're sure we want now.

I've spent a fair amount of time blogging about BDSM and spirituality as one who has played regularly in the past, and as one who plays sporadically - but not nearly often enough for my tastes - in the present. I've spent many blog entries bemoaning the lack of a top in my life. (For new readers, I'm a sub who switches, my spouse is a sub).

But perhaps I wasn't ready.

The universe seems to have shifted, not only reflected in my life as a person of (somewhat undefined) mostly Catholic faith, but also in my life as a woman who is deeply, deeply kinky and, when I'm honest enough to admit it, deeply submissive to my core.

I blogged recently that C and I had become involved in our local BDSM group and, in the midst of community, were meeting friends with whom we could relate, and begin experiencing the journey in the context of a group rather than just alone.

In the process, we've each begun playing more, experiencing both the enjoyment of bottoming and the tentative exploration of more meaningful submission. It's an area that had seemed dead in our own relationship. As we've found people to play with - who each of us and both of us feel comfortable with the other playing - the hope of new life in this area has been raised from that place of apparent death. And in the process of finding a way that we can each have our needs in these areas met, we're finding a certain amount of relief in our own marriage - that this is no longer an area of tension and lack of fulfillment, and we have had quite a reenergizing of our relationship.

I'm so very thrilled for him that he's getting what he needs on a regular basis.

And he is genuinely pleased that I'm doing the same.

While nothing particularly formal, per se, I'm beginning a journey of exploring submission with another person - Mr. Wycked, of Wycked Synsations. We're not sure if this will lead to anything particularly formal, but we're both pleased that the journey seems to be beginning. Anyone who questions my sanity in subbing to someone who delights in making gorgeous paddles, canes and furniture that all can be described as truly wycked, probably has something there.

I know he reads my blog; have no idea if he'll comment, but the possibility is there. We're working on a framework for this experimental journey in dominance and submission. Right now I have a limited number of rules. Chris will no doubt be delighted that drinking enough water is one of them. (Rules were meant to be broken, right?)

It truly amazes me to realize how much I've missed this part of life - like not knowing just how thirsty you are until that first sip of water is taken and then you greedily drink the whole glass. Or like a piece of music playing through a sound system that sounds pretty good, until someone turns on the subwoofer and you realize how much richer, how much fuller it sounds with the bass grounding the music's higher notes.

What wondrous love is this, to be celebrating hope and new possibilities in part of my life I had believed to be fully, irrevocably dead.

May the Paschal mystery, in all of its permutations, never cease to amaze us.

In the promise of Alleluia,
Raven

confiteor

Some days I'm reminded quite profoundly of the connections for me between what it is that we (I) do and my religious background as a Catholic.

Each of the recent times I've bottomed and subbed, that quiet place of surrender is marked by a profound echoing in my head of a particular line of a particular prayer in Catholic tradition. It's known as the Confiteor for the Latin of the first line, and it's placed at the beginning of Mass, when those assembled have the opportunity to acknowledge their need for God's forgiveness before entering into the holy sacrifice of the Mass. Incidentally, the wording will be replaced soon by a more direct translation from the Latin. At the moment, it reads thus:

I confess to Almighty God,

and to you my brothers

and sisters,

that I have sinned

through my own fault,

in my thoughts

and in my words,

in what I have done,

and in what I have failed to do;

and I ask blessed Mary ever virgin

all the angels and saints,
and you, my brothers and sisters,
to pray for me to the Lord our God.

The line that has come to mind lately is in the middle..."in what I have done and what I have failed to do..." Something about that line resonates with me when I'm falling deeply into a safe submissive space; that all I have done and all I have failed to do is somehow in that moment being rectified, absolved, or at least paid off. For the theological purists out there, it's not that I'm doubting God's grace in any sense. I'm not thinking logically about theology at those moments. It's something like an awareness that in that moment, all that I am, all that I have done, and all I have failed to do is brought to that moment, and I am able to let it go. Which is, I suppose, what actually experiencing forgiveness, be it spiritually, intellectually or physically, is all about.

It's a profoundly wonderful place.

Blessings,
Raven

incorrigible and invincible

Have I mentioned my penchant for practical jokes at the office? It's true. Up until now, my favorite has been setting someone's keyboard to type in Russian, then claiming that since I couldn't read Russian, that he was going to have to learn some basic language skills to be able to read enough of his screen and menus to change it back.

It's fun to play jokes, especially on a target such as the one mentioned above who reacts so beautifully. You know the kind I'm talking about...where you can hear your name being yelled, all the way across the office, as your latest practical prank is discovered. It's a beautiful thing...

So the target in question is on vacation. On two different occasions during his preparations for departure, he brough up the issue of the computer. I vaguely heard him sayijng something having to do with "don't you dare touch my computer," and "if you'll touch my computer I'll..." and I realized that he didn't actually have a decent ending for that sentence. Either that, or I just stopped listening. And really, I think he was merely telling me how sad and ignored he'd feel if I didn't do anything.

(Any guesses as to my preferred threat? )

I mean, really, maybe he was merely blustering and couldn't come up with a decent threat. Again, reference your guess as to my preferred threat.

And on the note of threats, I'm sure there's at least one person here who could have told him the effect of even a halfway decent threat on a confirmed brat.

As he left, my parting words were "game on." I'm reasonably certain I know what I'm doing, but in the event someone has a better idea, I'm quite open.

Blessings,
Raven

multiple personalities

Am working on a paper for school. Have many tabs open on my browser, some of which are even related to my research. Smiled when I noticed my gmail tab nestled next to the oxford handbook of systematic theology and that tab next to a fet life group discussion on female ejaculation, and that one next to the tab for my college (a religious institution).

It was just funny. :)

Blessings,
Raven

judgment past

Just a quick post; quicker than I'd like, but it's after midnight, and I have school and work tomorrow. and something tells me that staying up too late blogging is not exactly the best excuse for not being on my a-game at work. you know, in case there's any sort of accountability in my life, or anything like that.

What's that? You think there might have been some sort of reckoning recently? It seems a few people paid attention to my blog lately; I've gotten a couple of e-mails (I'm not my blog's only reader!) regarding my last post. As in asking if I got spanked.

Really. You all seem to think it's been coming. Or due. Or long over due. (Okay, that last part was probably just my DH's opinion.)

But I digress, and I don't have time for such.

So yes. I got spanked. More than once, actually. And any comments about it being about dang time can just stay in the peanut gallery, thank you very much. ;-)

And 2 days later at work, I was still feeling it in the sweet spot.

Oh my.

I still have a preference for leather over wood, and there's still a variety of wood paddle that squicks me in a not so sexy way and makes me want to safeword from an emotional space that I just don't get. Go figure. But this was a nice long spanking, with awesome warmup, and pushing some very powerful buttons.

And I nearly asked for a caning to top it off, which surprised the heck out of me.

C and I are still wrestling with some of the same issues that have been thorny for us in the midst of being a kinky married couple, but it seems that being involved in a local group, particularly in making friendships and talking to people, allows for working through some of the issues in the midst of community, examining how other people have negotiated the same issues. It seems to parallel the idea of worshipping in a faith community, rather than only alone. Catholic spirituality is situated within a framework of community - that the Church is made up of all of the members, and if some are absent, all are lessened by this absence. Protestant spirituality, while emphasizing an individual relationship with Christ also plays up the importance of nurturing and growing this relationship in the midst of community. Excesses of any type of spirituality are weeded out and tempered through this interaction with others, leading to more mature growth over time. I'm thinking it just might be the same within our leather communities as well.

Would love to blog more, but must sleep while I can.

Blessings,
Raven

judgment day

Short, likely fragmented post, but wanting to blog a moment before heading off to bed.

C and I have attended, for the last 2 months, a munch for a local emerging BDSM group. So far, we've enjoyed what we're seeing.

After tonight's munch, we had coffee with someone I'm interested in bottoming to for spanking play; C wanted to talk about some things before entrusting me to this person's mercy (or lack thereof!)

It seems there might be a spanking in my near future. As in, Saturday.

It's been a while since I've had the fun of anticipating like this!

Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiikes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ;-)

Blessings,
Raven

sunny california

This isn't a post about anything kinky in particular. Just sharing the sunny California weather. LOL

We're off to go build gendered snow people.

Hope you all are comfy and warm!

Blessings,
Raven

spirituality and scening - part deux

I started posting this as a reply to comments from my prior post and then realized it was a post-length comment. :) (yes, I really am procrastinating on a paper regarding Kant, how ever did you guess?!)

A few years ago, I went to a workshop on Tantric S/M, held at Good Vibes in the Bay Area. In watching the workshop and the demonstration, I was so intrigued with this experience - something that wasn't focused on genital sexuality, as it were, but on something else. Not valuing one over the other, but just that this very sensual, sexual experience of BDSM could be used in a very different, spiritual way.

The one image that really stuck was of the demo. The domme and sub both described their experiences, and while I've never really given much credence to the idea of chakras before, it was interesting to hear and see the reality and description of energy movement in the sub's body (she was restrained face down to a massage table) so that toward the end of the scene, her body undulated in climax - from pain/sensation alone - in what looked almost like a perfect sine wave. It was transcendent to watch, and it resonated with me for days afterward. (Actually, if I am quiet and still, I can still feel some of the energy reverberating from that demo, and it was almost 8 years ago)

I contacted the domme shortly after the workshop - I didn't have anyone in my life with whom to play, wanted some of what I had seen and experienced at the workshop so I booked her for a scene. We did the usual negotiation - and I loved that she got what I was trying to do - that I was looking at sexuality and BDSM as means to a different end. Truly, beyond describing a little of what was going on in my life, I didn't have to articulate much more than my hard and soft limits, and she took it from there.

The timing of it ended up that she topped me the week after 9/11. I will always remember how the chaos and brokenness of those days layered on top of my personal life, and how after this particular scene, there was a sense of quiet in my mind that remained for days. I wrote some afterward, that it was as if I was inhabiting my body again, instead of just my mind. Actually I did a lot of writing afterward, and I was also amazed at how well the writing flowed, rather than being interrupted by self criticism.

So I suppose this isn't completely new territory; I just haven't been active in the crafting part of such a scene before.

spirituality and scening

I've not blogged much about spirituality lately; I'm still a bit in a desert place in that regard. Having said that, I visited a friend who is wiccan recently, and she did a tarot card reading that yielded some interesting insights. (for the record, my thoughts about various forms of mediumship such as tarot cards and the like) are that they give a general thought about the direction the future is going, much like a pool ball travels on a table. It can be acted upon, however, changing the trajectory.

One of the things my friend mentioned was a bit of a challenge. She (correctly) described some of my frustration with wanting new opportunities and challenges in my work life, wanting to be in a position to grow into a management position, to make more money, wanting, wanting, wanting - and she challenged me to drop the sense of ingratitude and be grateful for the people and opportunities in my life. She reminded me that many people going to grad school don't also get the benefits of full time jobs, nice clothing, food that doesn't consist only of ramen noodles, etc.

It struck me that she's right, and intellectually, I am in full agreement.

Changing one's emotions, however, isn't easy. I can't seem to intellectually get myself out of this feeling, no matter how hard I try, how much I try to think about the ways I am profoundly blessed.

I've also been reading some on the law of attraction lately, and while I'm not trying to manifest a million dollars, I'm inclined to believe there's some truth to the reality that what what we think of and focus on, we can bring about. So there's a bit of concern that I'm spending so much energy focused on ingratitude and lack of satisfaction, rather than joy, engagement, curiosity, etc.

And that's where BDSM comes in, at least intuitively at this point.

I'm drawn to the idea of crafting a spiritually focused scene to assist in letting go of this emotion of dissatisfaction/ingratitude that I'm having an extremely difficult time willing myself out of. Not that I want a top explicitly lecturing me on it at all; I think that would annoy the hell out of me. But something combining sensory experiences such as music, sense, low lighting, etc., along with BDSM play (restraint, sensation) to create an environment in which a subtle attitude shift (dare I call it an attitude adjustment?) isn't just a theoretical possibility, but is impossible to avoid. I don't think I really want whoever is topping to talk much at all, but just to be in tune with me, able to read me well, and able to push me past where I'm hanging on to that which isn't emotionally/spiritually useful, to allow me to let go and get to that quiet space once more that really good Tantric/spiritual S/M is able to bring me to.

Just not quite sure how/when it's going to happen.

Blessings,
Raven

ambivalence

(blogging quickly...and not necessarily coherently, thanks to the pyramid ale that is not very full and my fairly empty tummy)

Chris did a post about implements...specifically about belts - an implement that he's not enjoyed using in the past, due more to logistical and practical concerns about aim and the like than anything else.

It struck a chord in me...it's probably one of my most fantasized about implements.

But it's one that squicks me, too, such that I find it hard to admit to anyone - including myself - that the fantasy of being spanked with a belt makes me undeniably wet. The sight, sound, even scent of the leather is just tantalizing.

But the connotations, however, horrify me if I think about them too much.

And there's another activity I enjoy that I also don't mention to most people. And the anonymity of my blog doesn't even feel "safe" enough for me to mention it. Don't know if that makes me neurotic, but sadly, there's where it is.

I thought I had come to terms with most of my fetishes by now.

Hm.

Blessings,
Raven

God Loves Miso...

I'll bet you didn't know that the Almighty has a preference for the tasty salty fermented soybean soup known as miso. It turns out S/He does. Or at least that's what I heard the other day, while watching a religious themed video with my little ones - sort of a Baby Einstein type of video; lots of images of the natural world, people, etc., paired with Christian music. For whatever reason, it's these videos that calm him when nothing else does. I'd put a link to them here, but if they do link/web traffic analysis, it might get a little messy if they saw hits coming from here. LOL

I wasn't paying much attention, however, and then all of a sudden one verse stood out, "God loves miso." It took a second...then I realized that it was my hearing that was off - it was actually the children's hymn, "God is so good," and they were singing the verse, "God loves me so."

It's amazing how cultural experiences color our perception so very much - in ways that are nearly impossible to realize until something makes us aware of the tint through which we view the world.

Our family is now hosting an au pair through a cultural exchange program; specifically, we have a South American woman living with us for most of the next year, providing childcare, taking college classes, and promoting cross cultural learning. We have been blessed - we definitely have the right au pair for our family. She is a delight, joining into family life with gusto, and the experience has been incredible. We were definitely looking for someone who would be part of our family - not merely an employee - and we've found her. She loves the kids, the kids love her, and more importantly, I've grown to love her as well, truly enjoying her company and already knowing I will miss her when she returns to her country in a year.

Truly the cultural exchange has been quite an eye opener for me - in some surprising ways. Her first week here, she saw I was overwhelmed with housework (was also right in the midst of finals with my grad school program) and specifically asked if she could help me clean the house and if she could cook me lunch on a day I was home for work. On one hand - I was delighted; on the other hand, as an Anglo woman, the experience of having a Latina essentially serving me was unnerving...felt so unPC...and forced me to dig deeper into exploring just why it was so uncomfortable. From her perspective, she believes so strongly in education - every time I tried to get up from my books, she would tell me to sit down, and then would go do whatever it was I thought needed doing. It was such a warm-hearted generosity of spirit...

Little things, too, have been so interesting. She marvels at how much pre-packaged food we have here, saying that food is much more natural in her country. She was delighted that it snowed on Christmas given that in her home country it's summertime right now (such a marvelous blessing; I don't know the last time it's done that here), and doesn't know the concept of being off duty, mentioning that since we invited her to be part of the family, hanging out with the kids and helping in the evenings is part of family life, not work. She's trying to teach me how to bake - South American style. As in, no measurements. Just "this" much flour, then make it into a volcano right on the countertop and pour in "this" much yeast, "this" much water - temperature about like "this," etc. It's a work of art to watch - and definitely challenges my notions of control in the kitchen. I *like* recipes. With precise directions. So I can anticipate that it "will* work. Even something as simple as the orientation and layout of a map. Apparently the US isn't the starting point for everyone's map of the world.

The chance to notice, let alone examine, some of my cultural biases has been a gift, and likely will continue to be throughout the year.

God loves miso indeed.

Blessings,
Raven

it's all about the boots

This is post is going to get me in trouble with at least one top who reads this...but I'm just going to burst if I don't say.

I've blogged before about my love of boots.

Apparently someone at work loves them too. I was walking out of an office of someone who outranks me by far at work, after having discussed some issue or another.

And in a most politically incorrect fashion that brought a smile to my face, his parting shot was, "Do you have any idea what those boots do to me?"

Oh if only I hadn't been sleep deprived...I could have had the *perfect* reply. ;)

Blessings,
R

postscript: It had been one of "those" days. After commenting on the boots, he then offered to walk me outside and light the smoke I bummed from him. (That's the part that at least one top who reads is going to take issue with...*sigh*) However, I'll try to beg for mercy with the information that I didn't light it then, still haven't, and it's still in my coat pocket.