What a Goddess Wants
A Goddess doesn't always get... and that's when the real trouble starts.
It is mid-morning quickly becoming afternoon and I am sitting with my second cup of coffee, having just finished editing an article written by a girlfriend. She has been in the BDSM lifestyle longer than I have but I suspect it is only because she is older than I am and therefore, had a head start on me. *giggle*
What do I want in my life? I ask myself this often but I look around my space right now and I know immediately and painfully what I really need and desire. It is not a bigger fetish wardrobe, more sex toys or more boys. Nothing so simple or shallow. No, what I am aching for is a library. Wall to wall, floor to ceiling bookshelves wrapping around a room as a testament to the dynamic hunger that drives my warped, insatiable mind. A vault of knowledge at my disposal, within fingertips reach. I suppose that is why I love the internet so much. It is the penultimate encyclopedia available to anyone who puts in the small effort to open it and search for what they want. Oh, but books have their own appeal that computers do not. I love the feel and smell of books in my hand. My eyes relax when gazing down at the soft whiteness of the paper and I can let myself drift off into a sea of information and swim in written commitments to thoughts, ideas and knowledge.
Knowledge and sexuality are my two passions. These are the fuels for the engine that drives my train and with this in mind, it is no surprise that I ended up where I am today. Yet, there is more to life than fetish sex. There is more to living happily than satiating physical needs and material whim and still, I continue to return to this lifestyle; my aberrant source of pleasure. Some people would say that this type of sexuality is an expression of dysfunctional emotional needs, a psychological scab that we continue to pick at in frustration and perhaps they are right. We are thrill seekers, adrenaline junkies and hard lining cynics in our own right. For novices, power is the desired brass ring in this game. For some of us, however, power is a tool to leverage what we really want.
My entire life has been a series of lessons in the use and abuse of power. In my efforts to escape from the ongoing misuses of power, I have become a skin diver. Searching out worlds hidden in the depths, just beyond surface reach; satisfaction with shallow streams of consciousness scares me more than the illogical, irrational knots and tangles of the wounded psyche. My appetites could never sustain themselves with anything found traveling in a brook. I must have the jewels that can only thrive deeper down in a rich ocean of life. I must know what needs to protect itself so fiercely. I must see and understand what I will never let rise to the surface of my Self. Each person, each experience, each riddle must be met with scrutiny and investigation. Who are you? What is your motivation? What drives your train? Freud would have been proud of the support I lend his theories with my own ascertainments. In its most simplistic, it is about sex and your mother. In its true essence, everything is about life and death and ultimately, power.
Sex is the most easily attainable power for all humans. It is not because it drives our most compulsive, base desires, it is much more than that. Sex is about orgasm and through that orgasm, riding a lightning purge of everything that stands between us and our divine joy. That small physical release is an emotional and psychological catharsis of our lower natures and a validation of acceptance by someone who is willing to receive the whole of our ugliness in the process. We reunite with the Mother energy during sex; struggling, filthy and covered with life fluids, we are primal creatures fueled by fear and vulnerability. In one momentary crescendo of tremendous effort, all of our aggressive energies are cast from us and we cannot help but be pulled into a void between worlds. In this moment, we surrender ourselves with absolute trust that Mother will hold us in her love and will not let us die after we are cast out of our self sufficient shell. We bond with something greater than our fears and in this, we are liberated. In this moment, we receive authentic power like a lightning rod being illuminated against a dark and denying sky.
I don't want power. I am powerful. Filled with power, constantly generating force and energy, I am in search of a repository strong enough to be fed by me without being devoured. Power must have a flowing circuit for renewal and recycling or it will eventually consume itself. Without Other, I am an engine that is disconnected from the vehicle; restrained only by the pointlessness of spinning endlessly and without immediate purpose. I want Other, and my adult adventures along the way are the controlled exercises in power exchange that keep me from consuming myself in the flames of my own unrelenting passions.
My unmet, burning desire is a library. A silent temple of knowledge that I can reverently retreat to when I need to assuage the voracious monster that lives inside my head. After all, the Goddess does not make endless, arbitrary demands. She is very clear about what she needs in exchange for her blessings and good humor. As an ongoing panacea for her unmet needs, human sacrifices have become tokens of good faith. Whether they are vanilla boys consumed in the banked fires and poisonous fumes of frustrated passions or perverse devotees offering their pound of flesh for a moment of redemption, it makes no difference. The search for Other continues, the circuit remains open and volatile and the Goddess waits... patiently.
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It is mid-morning quickly becoming afternoon and I am sitting with my second cup of coffee, having just finished editing an article written by a girlfriend. She has been in the BDSM lifestyle longer than I have but I suspect it is only because she is older than I am and therefore, had a head start on me. *giggle*
What do I want in my life? I ask myself this often but I look around my space right now and I know immediately and painfully what I really need and desire. It is not a bigger fetish wardrobe, more sex toys or more boys. Nothing so simple or shallow. No, what I am aching for is a library. Wall to wall, floor to ceiling bookshelves wrapping around a room as a testament to the dynamic hunger that drives my warped, insatiable mind. A vault of knowledge at my disposal, within fingertips reach. I suppose that is why I love the internet so much. It is the penultimate encyclopedia available to anyone who puts in the small effort to open it and search for what they want. Oh, but books have their own appeal that computers do not. I love the feel and smell of books in my hand. My eyes relax when gazing down at the soft whiteness of the paper and I can let myself drift off into a sea of information and swim in written commitments to thoughts, ideas and knowledge.
Knowledge and sexuality are my two passions. These are the fuels for the engine that drives my train and with this in mind, it is no surprise that I ended up where I am today. Yet, there is more to life than fetish sex. There is more to living happily than satiating physical needs and material whim and still, I continue to return to this lifestyle; my aberrant source of pleasure. Some people would say that this type of sexuality is an expression of dysfunctional emotional needs, a psychological scab that we continue to pick at in frustration and perhaps they are right. We are thrill seekers, adrenaline junkies and hard lining cynics in our own right. For novices, power is the desired brass ring in this game. For some of us, however, power is a tool to leverage what we really want.
My entire life has been a series of lessons in the use and abuse of power. In my efforts to escape from the ongoing misuses of power, I have become a skin diver. Searching out worlds hidden in the depths, just beyond surface reach; satisfaction with shallow streams of consciousness scares me more than the illogical, irrational knots and tangles of the wounded psyche. My appetites could never sustain themselves with anything found traveling in a brook. I must have the jewels that can only thrive deeper down in a rich ocean of life. I must know what needs to protect itself so fiercely. I must see and understand what I will never let rise to the surface of my Self. Each person, each experience, each riddle must be met with scrutiny and investigation. Who are you? What is your motivation? What drives your train? Freud would have been proud of the support I lend his theories with my own ascertainments. In its most simplistic, it is about sex and your mother. In its true essence, everything is about life and death and ultimately, power.
Sex is the most easily attainable power for all humans. It is not because it drives our most compulsive, base desires, it is much more than that. Sex is about orgasm and through that orgasm, riding a lightning purge of everything that stands between us and our divine joy. That small physical release is an emotional and psychological catharsis of our lower natures and a validation of acceptance by someone who is willing to receive the whole of our ugliness in the process. We reunite with the Mother energy during sex; struggling, filthy and covered with life fluids, we are primal creatures fueled by fear and vulnerability. In one momentary crescendo of tremendous effort, all of our aggressive energies are cast from us and we cannot help but be pulled into a void between worlds. In this moment, we surrender ourselves with absolute trust that Mother will hold us in her love and will not let us die after we are cast out of our self sufficient shell. We bond with something greater than our fears and in this, we are liberated. In this moment, we receive authentic power like a lightning rod being illuminated against a dark and denying sky.
I don't want power. I am powerful. Filled with power, constantly generating force and energy, I am in search of a repository strong enough to be fed by me without being devoured. Power must have a flowing circuit for renewal and recycling or it will eventually consume itself. Without Other, I am an engine that is disconnected from the vehicle; restrained only by the pointlessness of spinning endlessly and without immediate purpose. I want Other, and my adult adventures along the way are the controlled exercises in power exchange that keep me from consuming myself in the flames of my own unrelenting passions.
My unmet, burning desire is a library. A silent temple of knowledge that I can reverently retreat to when I need to assuage the voracious monster that lives inside my head. After all, the Goddess does not make endless, arbitrary demands. She is very clear about what she needs in exchange for her blessings and good humor. As an ongoing panacea for her unmet needs, human sacrifices have become tokens of good faith. Whether they are vanilla boys consumed in the banked fires and poisonous fumes of frustrated passions or perverse devotees offering their pound of flesh for a moment of redemption, it makes no difference. The search for Other continues, the circuit remains open and volatile and the Goddess waits... patiently.
posted by Samois at 1:38 PM
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