BlogSpot Entry
Oct. 16th, 2002 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookofmirrorsY'know... knocking the keyboard and mouse off the desk and somehow losing everything you just typed sucks.
Let's try this again, shall we?
Oh, and happy birthday to me! :)
OK... I meant to blog this yesterday, but the Rob thing, which I'd been putting off for too long, pretty much drained me. But this is something else pretty significant that I think belongs here.
This all happened a few days ago, maybe a week at the most, while Glenn and I were on our honeymoon. We ended up staying home for it, which was OK. We owe ourselves a trip to Savannah now. ;)
Anyway, one night, we're lying in bed, and we're both kinda dozing off, but somehow we end up starting to feel each other up. Glenn tends to do this while he's asleep, and if nothing comes of it, he'll usually forget it by morning, even if I remind him of it. He has jokingly referred to himself as a "somnambulist Casanova", which I think is cute. Anyway, we're both kinda tired, but I offered myself up to basically put myself in whatever position he liked and enjoy myself, basically as long as it didn't involve a lot of work on my part. ;) He wasn't entirely opposed to this, but he wasn't too awake himself, so somehow, he ended up going to look at porn on the computer, with the idea being that he would wake himself up (in all the useful ways) and come back and we would have some fun. Anyway, I half-doze off while he's doing that, but when he comes back, and starts fingering me, I instinctively know he's already finished, and he's no longer personally interested in much more than getting me off. I felt like he was humoring me, and told him so, but he denied that. Anyway, anyone who's read this any length of time knows how him masturbating rather than fucking me is a sore subject for me. So, of course, a fight ensues. He was apologetic, didn't mean to do it, got caught up, etc., etc.. In the meantime, I'm still mad. Somehow, during all this, something changed over. I'm still half asleep and kinda dazed during this whole thing, so I remember very few details. Anyway, somehow, I'm no longer mad at him, and this whole thing turns into a therapy session. I'm there, trying to talk Glenn through his anger, trying to let him get it out, free it, whatever. I don't have the foggiest idea what possessed me to do this. But, anyway, we spend the better part of about 3 hours engaging in this activity. But, suddenly, it works. Glenn later described it as seeing a line of people, and as each one appeared in front of him, he said "I hate you" and they disappeared. I was one of the people. At the time, I knew it, knew the exact point when it was me. Later, he asked if it would upset me if I was one of the people, and I told him that it didn't, and I already knew. Glenn said he wasn't sure if he should be upset that I had "pulled a Pam" (our therapist) on me. I was, in fact, pretty much emulating what I'd seen her do.
Anyway, it made a difference. I could see a noticable difference in him almost immediately, and days afterwards, people are commenting on it, although they can't quite place what's different sometimes. Richard said he was "shinier", and I got the distinct impression that he meant Glenn's aura.
Two things came about for me because of this.
The first thing I learned is a caution. We're sitting in IHOP afterwards, and I'm sitting there, marvelling at him, being moved to tears by his Beauty. I've always thought he was beautiful before, but this was so profound, I can't even describe it. Anyway, I realize that I'm wanting to give myself credit for his change. I'm sitting there having a war with myself. Part of me saying that, dammit, it couldn't have been done without me, and if nothing else, I was at LEAST the catalyst for it, so I should get some kudos for that! The other part of me is saying that that was absolutely selfish and ridiculous, 'cause Glenn had done all the work, and he deserved every bit of the credit; it hadn't been easy for him. So, I finally confess this to Glenn. He nodded in that "I see" way he does, and, to his credit, didn't relinquish one iota of the responsibility for his transformation on me. Part of me was really impressed and pleased by that, part of me was still offended a little.
Fact is, I'm thinking that this is a huge danger in my calling. Anyone who's read my Blade and Mirror entry on this blog knows what I think my calling to be, and what happened with Glenn that night is exactly that. But it puts me in a position where I can take undue credit for the work that others do. It's funny. My best friend had a pantheon of self-created dieties once, and I was his personification of one of them - the Phoenix. I have a tattoo of it on my chest to represent our friendship. In his pantheon, the fatal flaw of the Phoenix was hubris, and I'm amazed at how that rings true for me, especially since I don't think he had me in mind when he chose that. Who knows, maybe he saw something I didn't, and it was me all along... Anyway, this may be something I continue to fight with as I do my work. Glenn reassures me that if I recognize it, and know it for what it is, it will be less likely to be a problem.
I hope that's the case.
The second thing requires a bit of background. As may or may not be apparent from previous posts on this blog, I'm into BDSM. My first husband and I practiced it fairly frequently, although it wasn't a lifestyle for us. I've done it with a couple of friends who didn't know what the hell they were doing since then (do you know how frustrating it is for a sub to have to coach a dom?? completely spoils the mood...), and I was on the Wall 'O Fun at Scarlett's, getting beaten with various implements of destruction (including drywall... don't ask ), but for the most part, I've had very little to do with that since my divorce. I've done it online, and found it extremely enjoyable, but it's not the same thing.
Anyway, Glenn and I toyed with this when we first started dating. It's not his cup 'o tea, so to speak. He doesn't find it sexual. I think the stars were aligned just right the first time we tried it, 'cause we both enjoyed it very much that day. But after that, it was just him going through the motions to please me, and frankly, if there's no mutual passion involved, it's just hitting someone, so we don't do that anymore. I'm kinda disappointed in that, but I look forward to more parties at Scarlett's, and going back to polyamory someday to scratch that itch, as it were. In the meantime, I'll deal. I still have online. Anyway, I've tried to incorporate some of what I consider the milder things into our repertoire - hair pulling while giving head, talking dirty, etc.. Glenn's not particularly into those, either. He says he can't see how that's a sign of love, and I can't quite explain it to him.
So, keeping all this in mind, for the next 2 days after Glenn's revelation/transformation/whatever you wanna call it, he becomes a sex fiend. Even now, when we don't have much time for that, he's constantly feeling me up. I am *SO* not complaining. In addition to this, he starts getting rough. Needless to say, I'm totally loving this.
Even when I was with my first husband, I asked him if sometimes he was using me, as a sub, to get out his frustrations. He admitted that he was. He was never cruel, and I loved every minute of it, and he never punished me in anger (HUGE no-no for that sort of thing). But I truly think (even moreso now) that your have to be in touch with your own anger to be able to be a dom. So, suddenly, Glenn gets in touch with his anger, and I'm reaping the sexual rewards. Woo hoo! But I start to wax philosophical on this.
I truly feel that, in a good sub/dom relationship, there is definite give and take. I'm of the opinion that the sub actually holds most of the power. This is pretty much what the lifestylers think, too, as far as I can tell. Anyway, during this time with Glenn, when all these profound changes were going on, I had the impression that I was taking him anger, drawing it into myself, and transforming it into love, and giving it back to him. I can't really describe how that feels. It feels beautiful, it feels powerful, it feels very RIGHT. This is the exact thing that I was experiencing during the rough sex. I was revelling in his anger, and his expression of it. It was exciting me, and I could see the incredible beauty of it. It's hard to describe, and seems ironic for someone as afraid of my own anger as I am. But it's like I was getting access to the pure emotion of it, without all the associations that we normally see - cruelty and the like. It was just the pure emotion, and as such, it was as beautiful and wonderful as any other expression of pure emotion. But, as I said, it was like I was taking it, transforming it, and giving it back to him. I was strong enough to do that. Strong enough to withstand the tides of that emotion and create something new from it.
And I thought to myself, 'what a wonderful gift'. And then I started thinking about (I don't ever know if I spell this right) the quidishtu (quadesh?) of Ishtar. The temple whores, as it were (Sarsen says the correct translation is "holy one"). But that men, returning from war, would have to go to the temples to lie with the priestesses of Ishtar, before they were considered clean again, and fit to re-enter society. And suddenly, that made so much sense to me. I finally understood exactly how and why that could be. These men come back from all the atrocities of war, full of anger, hatred, confusion, maybe even bloodlust. And they go into the temple and fuck the priestesses. I don't mean that to sound flip. I suspect that's exactly what they did. They allowed all that emotion to come to the surface, and took it out (again, without cruelty) on the priestesses, and had rough animal sex with them. The priestesses in turn, were strong, were wise, and understood exactly what was going on, and truly loved the men they were with, at least for the time they were with them, and they were able to use that profound, nonjudgemental love, to transform all the pain these men felt back into joy, into love. Into all those things that were necessary for a peaceful society - even one that must sometimes use war as a tool. Keep in mind, all of these things are my thoughts entirely, and are not based on any historical knowledge that I have. I don't have any, in fact, although I meant to look it up. I still might, but it's my birthday, dammit, and I'm not in the mood to do research. ;) But it's based on the profound emotions I felt when I was going through it with Glenn. I was thinking to myself how very powerful such a thing could be. Both on a personal/interpersonal level, and for a society. Y'know, the more I think of it, the more I think that the Catholic concept of confession stems from this. You sin, you feel guilty, or angry, or whatever, and you go to someone to absolve you of it. In the case of the quadishtu, they accept you with open arms, love you in all the senses of the word, and remind you how lovable and beautiful you yourself are. The Blade and the Mirror, indeed. Catholics took this whole concept and, as usual, bastardized it into guilt trips, but the concept is, at its roots, the same. Again, these are just my musings, and I have no knowledge of any historical basis for them.
Y'know... this kinda makes me want to be a sacred whore. But I guess any healer is that already, regardless of what tools s/he uses.
Let's try this again, shall we?
Oh, and happy birthday to me! :)
OK... I meant to blog this yesterday, but the Rob thing, which I'd been putting off for too long, pretty much drained me. But this is something else pretty significant that I think belongs here.
This all happened a few days ago, maybe a week at the most, while Glenn and I were on our honeymoon. We ended up staying home for it, which was OK. We owe ourselves a trip to Savannah now. ;)
Anyway, one night, we're lying in bed, and we're both kinda dozing off, but somehow we end up starting to feel each other up. Glenn tends to do this while he's asleep, and if nothing comes of it, he'll usually forget it by morning, even if I remind him of it. He has jokingly referred to himself as a "somnambulist Casanova", which I think is cute. Anyway, we're both kinda tired, but I offered myself up to basically put myself in whatever position he liked and enjoy myself, basically as long as it didn't involve a lot of work on my part. ;) He wasn't entirely opposed to this, but he wasn't too awake himself, so somehow, he ended up going to look at porn on the computer, with the idea being that he would wake himself up (in all the useful ways) and come back and we would have some fun. Anyway, I half-doze off while he's doing that, but when he comes back, and starts fingering me, I instinctively know he's already finished, and he's no longer personally interested in much more than getting me off. I felt like he was humoring me, and told him so, but he denied that. Anyway, anyone who's read this any length of time knows how him masturbating rather than fucking me is a sore subject for me. So, of course, a fight ensues. He was apologetic, didn't mean to do it, got caught up, etc., etc.. In the meantime, I'm still mad. Somehow, during all this, something changed over. I'm still half asleep and kinda dazed during this whole thing, so I remember very few details. Anyway, somehow, I'm no longer mad at him, and this whole thing turns into a therapy session. I'm there, trying to talk Glenn through his anger, trying to let him get it out, free it, whatever. I don't have the foggiest idea what possessed me to do this. But, anyway, we spend the better part of about 3 hours engaging in this activity. But, suddenly, it works. Glenn later described it as seeing a line of people, and as each one appeared in front of him, he said "I hate you" and they disappeared. I was one of the people. At the time, I knew it, knew the exact point when it was me. Later, he asked if it would upset me if I was one of the people, and I told him that it didn't, and I already knew. Glenn said he wasn't sure if he should be upset that I had "pulled a Pam" (our therapist) on me. I was, in fact, pretty much emulating what I'd seen her do.
Anyway, it made a difference. I could see a noticable difference in him almost immediately, and days afterwards, people are commenting on it, although they can't quite place what's different sometimes. Richard said he was "shinier", and I got the distinct impression that he meant Glenn's aura.
Two things came about for me because of this.
The first thing I learned is a caution. We're sitting in IHOP afterwards, and I'm sitting there, marvelling at him, being moved to tears by his Beauty. I've always thought he was beautiful before, but this was so profound, I can't even describe it. Anyway, I realize that I'm wanting to give myself credit for his change. I'm sitting there having a war with myself. Part of me saying that, dammit, it couldn't have been done without me, and if nothing else, I was at LEAST the catalyst for it, so I should get some kudos for that! The other part of me is saying that that was absolutely selfish and ridiculous, 'cause Glenn had done all the work, and he deserved every bit of the credit; it hadn't been easy for him. So, I finally confess this to Glenn. He nodded in that "I see" way he does, and, to his credit, didn't relinquish one iota of the responsibility for his transformation on me. Part of me was really impressed and pleased by that, part of me was still offended a little.
Fact is, I'm thinking that this is a huge danger in my calling. Anyone who's read my Blade and Mirror entry on this blog knows what I think my calling to be, and what happened with Glenn that night is exactly that. But it puts me in a position where I can take undue credit for the work that others do. It's funny. My best friend had a pantheon of self-created dieties once, and I was his personification of one of them - the Phoenix. I have a tattoo of it on my chest to represent our friendship. In his pantheon, the fatal flaw of the Phoenix was hubris, and I'm amazed at how that rings true for me, especially since I don't think he had me in mind when he chose that. Who knows, maybe he saw something I didn't, and it was me all along... Anyway, this may be something I continue to fight with as I do my work. Glenn reassures me that if I recognize it, and know it for what it is, it will be less likely to be a problem.
I hope that's the case.
The second thing requires a bit of background. As may or may not be apparent from previous posts on this blog, I'm into BDSM. My first husband and I practiced it fairly frequently, although it wasn't a lifestyle for us. I've done it with a couple of friends who didn't know what the hell they were doing since then (do you know how frustrating it is for a sub to have to coach a dom?? completely spoils the mood...), and I was on the Wall 'O Fun at Scarlett's, getting beaten with various implements of destruction (including drywall... don't ask ), but for the most part, I've had very little to do with that since my divorce. I've done it online, and found it extremely enjoyable, but it's not the same thing.
Anyway, Glenn and I toyed with this when we first started dating. It's not his cup 'o tea, so to speak. He doesn't find it sexual. I think the stars were aligned just right the first time we tried it, 'cause we both enjoyed it very much that day. But after that, it was just him going through the motions to please me, and frankly, if there's no mutual passion involved, it's just hitting someone, so we don't do that anymore. I'm kinda disappointed in that, but I look forward to more parties at Scarlett's, and going back to polyamory someday to scratch that itch, as it were. In the meantime, I'll deal. I still have online. Anyway, I've tried to incorporate some of what I consider the milder things into our repertoire - hair pulling while giving head, talking dirty, etc.. Glenn's not particularly into those, either. He says he can't see how that's a sign of love, and I can't quite explain it to him.
So, keeping all this in mind, for the next 2 days after Glenn's revelation/transformation/whatever you wanna call it, he becomes a sex fiend. Even now, when we don't have much time for that, he's constantly feeling me up. I am *SO* not complaining. In addition to this, he starts getting rough. Needless to say, I'm totally loving this.
Even when I was with my first husband, I asked him if sometimes he was using me, as a sub, to get out his frustrations. He admitted that he was. He was never cruel, and I loved every minute of it, and he never punished me in anger (HUGE no-no for that sort of thing). But I truly think (even moreso now) that your have to be in touch with your own anger to be able to be a dom. So, suddenly, Glenn gets in touch with his anger, and I'm reaping the sexual rewards. Woo hoo! But I start to wax philosophical on this.
I truly feel that, in a good sub/dom relationship, there is definite give and take. I'm of the opinion that the sub actually holds most of the power. This is pretty much what the lifestylers think, too, as far as I can tell. Anyway, during this time with Glenn, when all these profound changes were going on, I had the impression that I was taking him anger, drawing it into myself, and transforming it into love, and giving it back to him. I can't really describe how that feels. It feels beautiful, it feels powerful, it feels very RIGHT. This is the exact thing that I was experiencing during the rough sex. I was revelling in his anger, and his expression of it. It was exciting me, and I could see the incredible beauty of it. It's hard to describe, and seems ironic for someone as afraid of my own anger as I am. But it's like I was getting access to the pure emotion of it, without all the associations that we normally see - cruelty and the like. It was just the pure emotion, and as such, it was as beautiful and wonderful as any other expression of pure emotion. But, as I said, it was like I was taking it, transforming it, and giving it back to him. I was strong enough to do that. Strong enough to withstand the tides of that emotion and create something new from it.
And I thought to myself, 'what a wonderful gift'. And then I started thinking about (I don't ever know if I spell this right) the quidishtu (quadesh?) of Ishtar. The temple whores, as it were (Sarsen says the correct translation is "holy one"). But that men, returning from war, would have to go to the temples to lie with the priestesses of Ishtar, before they were considered clean again, and fit to re-enter society. And suddenly, that made so much sense to me. I finally understood exactly how and why that could be. These men come back from all the atrocities of war, full of anger, hatred, confusion, maybe even bloodlust. And they go into the temple and fuck the priestesses. I don't mean that to sound flip. I suspect that's exactly what they did. They allowed all that emotion to come to the surface, and took it out (again, without cruelty) on the priestesses, and had rough animal sex with them. The priestesses in turn, were strong, were wise, and understood exactly what was going on, and truly loved the men they were with, at least for the time they were with them, and they were able to use that profound, nonjudgemental love, to transform all the pain these men felt back into joy, into love. Into all those things that were necessary for a peaceful society - even one that must sometimes use war as a tool. Keep in mind, all of these things are my thoughts entirely, and are not based on any historical knowledge that I have. I don't have any, in fact, although I meant to look it up. I still might, but it's my birthday, dammit, and I'm not in the mood to do research. ;) But it's based on the profound emotions I felt when I was going through it with Glenn. I was thinking to myself how very powerful such a thing could be. Both on a personal/interpersonal level, and for a society. Y'know, the more I think of it, the more I think that the Catholic concept of confession stems from this. You sin, you feel guilty, or angry, or whatever, and you go to someone to absolve you of it. In the case of the quadishtu, they accept you with open arms, love you in all the senses of the word, and remind you how lovable and beautiful you yourself are. The Blade and the Mirror, indeed. Catholics took this whole concept and, as usual, bastardized it into guilt trips, but the concept is, at its roots, the same. Again, these are just my musings, and I have no knowledge of any historical basis for them.
Y'know... this kinda makes me want to be a sacred whore. But I guess any healer is that already, regardless of what tools s/he uses.
