the marks of a slave

[Homburg]

My take on it is that even the zen monk experiences these things and doesn't try and mute them or do anything but experience them - the level of investment/attachment/panic that the rest of us experience is the difference.

There is no attempt to mute them, but they are muted because of the lack of attachment. Or, well, lessened attachment if one is not the buddha. The "muted" in my post was in comparison to those still firmly attached to diksha and mired in illusion.

 

[nh23]

Oh please.

 

[eastern sun]

I'm off M/s and onto philo:

do you really think those things can be controlled via avoidance? That you can say "Now I will dwell in the valley between my highs and my lows."

We're flesh and blood. It's a given we're going to be miserable, ecstatic and all points in between. Your kids, too, no matter what you do about it.

Chasing any of it, is a kind of hubris, to me. It chases you.

Yes, but it's not controlled. It's not an issue of avoidance. And it's not the valley between the highs and the lows.

It's living in the whole circumference defined by the highs and the lows. Filling (or emptying) the whole space, all at once, without getting too caught up in the highs or the lows.

The whole thing qualitatively changes, in my experience.

It's not muted. It's not missing. It's just completely different from what it was before.

How? I'm not sure how to say what I mean. At some level, this whole thread has been my attempt to put this stuff into words.

I'm curious why you say "chasing any of it is a kind of hubris." What do you mean?

 

[Netzach]

Yes, but it's not controlled. It's not an issue of avoidance. And it's not the valley between the highs and the lows.

It's living in the whole circumference defined by the highs and the lows. Filling (or emptying) the whole space, all at once, without getting too caught up in the highs or the lows.

The whole thing qualitatively changes, in my experience.

It's not muted. It's not missing. It's just completely different from what it was before.

How? I'm not sure how to say what I mean. At some level, this whole thread has been my attempt to put this stuff into words.

I'm curious why you say "chasing any of it is a kind of hubris." What do you mean?

Ok, I get it more. You're talking more about that kind of detachment that Homburg and I were talking about and cultivating that. It sounded to me more like "if I stick to this moderate middle at all cost, it'll be better."

I just mean life. Life chases you, you think you chase it. You pick a direction maybe, but the amount of things you can pick and choose is remarkably limited - your allusion to staked territory. I don't think we *can* stake territory - the peak is a plateau with a lot of fog around it. The water's a mirage.

 

[catalina_francisco]

Is there ever a point where you stop struggling, stop grappling, and finally come to terms with who and what you are? Or will it always be a constant one step forward and two steps back kind of thing?

Can you be deliriously happy and utterly miserable at the same time? It certainly feels that way.

No, to the first question, at least for us....Yes, to the 2nd and 3rd...but another's mileage may vary.

Catalina

 

[catalina_francisco]

As I feared back in the beginning, my husband and I have gotten way too self-conscious with this thread. It's been difficult at times, as we started acting in artificial ways with each other. Frustrating. Disappointing.

Whereas our relationship had always been largely unexamined, now that we were reflecting it in this forum, we started noticing aspects of it that led to further examination, that led to analytical dissection, that led to artificial conceptualization, and suddenly we found ourselves behaving in ways that were based on the thoughts we were having, and the subtle, naturalness of our power dynamics became stultified and rigid and "wrong."

A couple of weeks ago, we realized that the relationship we had before the thread had undergone a transformation, and neither of us loved what was happening.

Why do I think this is relevant to your question?

I'm not sure, but I think it might be because the discomfort we felt was always part of the "thinking" we were doing. The ways "this" should or shouldn't be happening, whatever "this" was. The ways reality failed to live up to an ideal.

The power dynamics exist. They are undeniable. Live them. Work with them. Play with them. Enjoy them. But limit the pain to what's real. What exists. There's no need to anticipate more. Let go of the models. The concepts. The ideas. They just become measurements of our success and failure.

I used to know that. But I forgot what I knew when I became mesmerized by my own reflection in this web of words.

And then wondered what happened when reality failed to live up to its idealized form.

I think the upshot of this is it is way too easy to place importance in what others think and believe to be the 'right way to do XYZ' when in reality it is what is right for you which counts. There are more who have an opinion of how things should work than there are those who actually live M/s as a reality day in, day out. When you start to place more importance in their opinions than your own, confusion and frustration runs wild.

Catalina

 

[eastern sun]

I think the upshot of this is it is way too easy to place importance in what others think and believe to be the 'right way to do XYZ' when in reality it is what is right for you which counts. There are more who have an opinion of how things should work than there are those who actually live M/s as a reality day in, day out. When you start to place more importance in their opinions than your own, confusion and frustration runs wild.

Catalina

You're right, Catalina, and the person who has suffered the most in my concern with what other people are thinking is my son. But that has nothing to do with slavery.

We live in a social world. We act, and people respond to our actions. Just walking down the street, I make a statement as to who I am, what's important to me, how I feel about the people I meet and the world I live in, and I can see in the reactions of the people I pass what they think of me.

For years, as a child and a young woman, I measured myself by the look in other people's eyes. I wanted them to smile at me. And I thought that meant they liked me.

I prided myself on my ability to become whatever woman the person I was with wanted me to be. Being "other-oriented," I had no firm center, and few fixed ideas, just a constant stream of reactions to whatever was in front of me.

But I didn't always feel this was a "good" thing. I was socialized in the liberal West, where we were raised as children to embrace individualism and personal power.

Here I was, an intelligent, creative, strong woman, yielding power constantly. Constantly. In order to feel the power I thought I was "supposed to" feel, I raged. And then felt even worse because I knew I'd been stupid and wrong.

Slavery has allowed me to reconcile these conflicts internally. Today, I am centered and strong, intelligent and creative, and fundamentally empty at the core. I still have no firm center, and few fixed ideas, and I offer a steady stream of reactions to whatever is in front of me.

But, I've lost my need to rage in order to feel a power I thought I was supposed to have.

The trouble I've experienced in this thread is not so much in my concern about what other people think of me - people have been very, very generous in their support and I'm grateful. It is my love and attachment to the fixed image I have created.

I always want to look like I did in that photograph. I was beautiful that day.

(The trouble with this kind of thinking is obvious.)

 

[catalina_francisco]

You're right, Catalina, and the person who has suffered the most in my concern with what other people are thinking is my son. But that has nothing to do with slavery.

We live in a social world. We act, and people respond to our actions. Just walking down the street, I make a statement as to who I am, what's important to me, how I feel about the people I meet and the world I live in, and I can see in the reactions of the people I pass what they think of me.

For years, as a child and a young woman, I measured myself by the look in other people's eyes. I wanted them to smile at me. And I thought that meant they liked me.

I prided myself on my ability to become whatever woman the person I was with wanted me to be. Being "other-oriented," I had no firm center, and few fixed ideas, just a constant stream of reactions to whatever was in front of me.

But I didn't always feel this was a "good" thing. I was socialized in the liberal West, where we were raised as children to embrace individualism and personal power.

Here I was, an intelligent, creative, strong woman, yielding power constantly. Constantly. In order to feel the power I thought I was "supposed to" feel, I raged. And then felt even worse because I knew I'd been stupid and wrong.

Slavery has allowed me to reconcile these conflicts internally. Today, I am centered and strong, intelligent and creative, and fundamentally empty at the core. I still have no firm center, and few fixed ideas, and I offer a steady stream of reactions to whatever is in front of me.

But, I've lost my need to rage in order to feel a power I thought I was supposed to have.

The trouble I've experienced in this thread is not so much in my concern about what other people think of me - people have been very, very generous in their support and I'm grateful. It is my love and attachment to the fixed image I have created.

I always want to look like I did in that photograph. I was beautiful that day.

(The trouble with this kind of thinking is obvious.)

Finding or accepting that core is necessary, but often brings pain. Unfortunately the world prefers us to play the game and not be individual or hold strong opinions...if you don't conform, many will make sure you realise the mistake you have made through various measures. Someone said recently I must be a very confident and strong person because of the way I live my life, my refusal to beg for acceptance at any cost, and my ability to say through the way I live and speak my life 'this is me, accept me or don't'. Truth is I don't have a lot of confidence or self esteem, but I do know I cannot live trying to be someone I am not, especially if it is to create an illusion people will hopefully like...I pay for being the way I am, often times painfully, but I also don't feel I have a choice. LOL, F admits it is one of the reasons he was attracted to me and remains so, but also is one of the greatest sources of frustration for him at times. Thankfully he doesn't want me any other way.

Catalina

 

[JupitersGirl]

What he wants to experience is this open heart, I think. It's very playful, spontaneous, generous and loving.

It's this open heart that is empty and able to be filled.

It's this open heart that allows him to exist fully, in his glory, in your presence.

It's this open heart that is able to love without expectations. Unconditionally. Freely given.

It's this open heart that will bring you happiness.

It will also come and go. Open and close. Ebb and flow. Like breath. Like life.

But don't be discouraged.

Once you glimpse truth, it remains true even if you've lost sight of it.

I have followed this thread off and on....actually the only thread on lit I do follow. Your words are beautiful and raw and real.

These particular words are the most beautiful and expressive words you have shared to date.

Thank you. You brighten my world.

 

[eastern sun]

Truth is I don't have a lot of confidence or self esteem, but I do know I cannot live trying to be someone I am not, especially if it is to create an illusion people will hopefully like...

Catalina

You're right, Catalina, it's not sustainable.

The cracks in the facade grow wider and wider, until some internal or external pressure shatters that outer shell and the truth spills out like so much blood.

For someone like me though, there's still an appeal in the process - in the endless cycles of creation and destruction of self. Throughout it all, something remains, changeable and empty, but still increasingly purified. Or clarified. Or something.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

 

[eastern sun]

I have followed this thread off and on....actually the only thread on lit I do follow. Your words are beautiful and raw and real.

These particular words are the most beautiful and expressive words you have shared to date.

Thank you. You brighten my world.

Thank you, JupitersGirl.

You want to hear something funny? I stood in the dean's office on the last day of school, and we all agreed that what my son needed most was a good dose of shallowness. When I told my friend, she was appalled. "What? Why on earth would you want that?"

It is possible, in the midst of anxiety and fear, to lose one's footing in the turbulent waters. The only way back is to find the stability of the shallows.

Sometimes a smile and a good cup of coffee is enough.



Thank you for your kindness.

 

[eastern sun]

I've seen your blood. You've seen mine. What do we do now?

(I'm going to go pour another cup of coffee. . . .)

 

[VelvetDarkness]

You're right, Catalina, and the person who has suffered the most in my concern with what other people are thinking is my son. But that has nothing to do with slavery.

We live in a social world. We act, and people respond to our actions. Just walking down the street, I make a statement as to who I am, what's important to me, how I feel about the people I meet and the world I live in, and I can see in the reactions of the people I pass what they think of me.

For years, as a child and a young woman, I measured myself by the look in other people's eyes. I wanted them to smile at me. And I thought that meant they liked me.

I prided myself on my ability to become whatever woman the person I was with wanted me to be. Being "other-oriented," I had no firm center, and few fixed ideas, just a constant stream of reactions to whatever was in front of me.

But I didn't always feel this was a "good" thing. I was socialized in the liberal West, where we were raised as children to embrace individualism and personal power.

Here I was, an intelligent, creative, strong woman, yielding power constantly. Constantly. In order to feel the power I thought I was "supposed to" feel, I raged. And then felt even worse because I knew I'd been stupid and wrong.

Slavery has allowed me to reconcile these conflicts internally. Today, I am centered and strong, intelligent and creative, and fundamentally empty at the core. I still have no firm center, and few fixed ideas, and I offer a steady stream of reactions to whatever is in front of me.

But, I've lost my need to rage in order to feel a power I thought I was supposed to have.

The trouble I've experienced in this thread is not so much in my concern about what other people think of me - people have been very, very generous in their support and I'm grateful. It is my love and attachment to the fixed image I have created.

I always want to look like I did in that photograph. I was beautiful that day.

(The trouble with this kind of thinking is obvious.)

OMG. You are so like me.

 

[BiBunny]

Sometimes, I look in this man's eyes, and it terrifies me. He has the power to bring my entire world crashing down around me, and he knows it. He's done it before and could do it again.

But, yet, somehow, I could not, I cannot, I will not ever be able to turn away.

The true fear--his and mine--is what we're capable of together.

 

[eastern sun]

Sometimes, I look in this man's eyes, and it terrifies me. He has the power to bring my entire world crashing down around me, and he knows it. He's done it before and could do it again.

But, yet, somehow, I could not, I cannot, I will not ever be able to turn away.

The true fear--his and mine--is what we're capable of together.

I'm curious. . . . What is that "true fear?"

 

[eastern sun]

Last night, I felt so exposed in front of him I kept hiding my face with my hands. When he turned me over, I couldn't look him in the eye at all.

He loved it, even though he told me "not to be ashamed."

 

[eastern sun]

And last night . . . I was left with an unfamiliar sensation across my shoulders and back, that compelled me to look in the mirror. I came back - "Can I turn on the light? You should see what you did."

His sleepy, satisfied answer - "I don't care what I did."

As he dozed off, I snuck out to look in the mirror again.

 

[BiBunny]

I'm curious. . . . What is that "true fear?"

The fear of the unknown, I think. It's more powerful than any sort of terror that one can actually define.

 

[castagnus]

For you on Father’s Day
(when every day is Father’s Day)

My father ran into the woods to keep his wild side
But you have stayed to learn the art of husbandry

Feeling the pinch of domesticity, you have stayed
While your fruit slowly ripens
Deeply educating yourself on the care of life
Earning our trust
Calming our fears
Challenging our inertia
And still stoking the wildfires within your soul
Allowing the flames to burn off
The tangled underbrush that accumulates
As living things strive to find the sun
And threaten to choke off the shoots
At the base of the family tree

You have learned to use your whip judiciously
To tame the rebellious wild streak
That threatens the creatures in your care
Channeling our living energy
Exercising our natural talents
Releasing our ability
To get the work of the human world done
The domesticated, civilized, social world
Where we are born naked
And live bathed in the images
Of man’s greatest accomplishments
And deepest failures

Against this black and white backdrop
You, the Father, encourage us to live and work
Rewarding us with sweet meats, salt licks,
And wild rides into the dark, uncharted woods
While keeping the path home clear
Comforting and familiar

- June 2006

I love you.

Eastern Sun - where do you find the inspiration to write such powerful poetry ? Over the months, I have followed this thread whenever time permits, and continue to be amazed at your perceptiveness and ability to forge your emotions into such beautiful language.

Some uncommonly intelligent and talented people have contributed to this discourse; and their ideas and sentiments are wonderfully responsive to the conceptual integrity of this thread which you seem to have so effortlessly maintained.

I want to express my appreciation to just a few who come to mind : Catalina, Homburg, Jupitersgirl, Bibunny, Netzach et al.

Thanks to all of you for maintaining the consistent high standards of freshness in ideas and literary excellence.

 

[eastern sun]

Eastern Sun - where do you find the inspiration to write such powerful poetry ?

(thank you, castagnus )

Usually I'm trying to get laid.

 

[deliteme]

And last night . . . I was left with an unfamiliar sensation across my shoulders and back, that compelled me to look in the mirror. I came back - "Can I turn on the light? You should see what you did."

His sleepy, satisfied answer - "I don't care what I did."

As he dozed off, I snuck out to look in the mirror again.

His words.. damn..almost made me want to sink to my knees and I only know you both from reading this thread.

I only found it today and I am in awe of you both.

I only wish I could find one to meld with as you have.

 

[Adakgirl]

Do you see how very lucky and blessed you are Eastern Sun? Can you see what we see when we read you? Look closely
no need to quote I'm sure you know where these words are written.

Fruits of the Spirit are

Love
Joy
Peace
Longsuffering
Gentleness
Goodness
Faith
Meekness
Temperance

and I will add for the sake of it.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

 

[eastern sun]

We are lucky. Incredibly fortunate. But we've also stuck with each other through circumstances that could have torn us apart.

We've been so mean to each other that we simply co-existed in the same house. We've been so self-centered and self-absorbed, so preoccupied with our own desires and fears and etc., that we completely missed what was going on in the other's life, and didn't even care that we were missing it. We've both harbored resentments that darkened our eyes, re-shaped our facial expressions and contorted our postures. We've yelled and screamed, and the house has holes in the walls and doors created by an angry fist or a foot. Not one of our original wedding dishes exist. They've all been broken through carelessness, rough living or being thrown across the room.

We have not lived gently with each other. And we have both hurt each other.

On the other hand, here we are. 25 years later. Maybe it helps that he is so easy-going, in spite of his expectations. Maybe it helps that I am so damn earnest, in spite of my self-centeredness.

I can be accused of romanticizing or idealizing this relationship we're living, and I have on occasion wished that I could actually skip over the parts I do skip over in my writing. Like the boring parts, the frustrating parts, the disappointing parts. The parts that would really make both of us look like damn fools.

Like the night before last when I came home from a night away with the kids, and instead of greeting him when he walked in the door, kept watching the movie "cause it's at a really good part" and then got snippy about having to wash the sheets twice in one week because he was so damn careless and inattentive and let a lube bottle leak all over my side of the bed while I was gone (knowing there had to be another woman involved).

Writing about those moments doesn't capture the part I want to hold on to, so I usually let them slide.

Maybe love is patient. But that's because it is open to everything that happens.

Maybe the more relevant question is - how do you know when to stay and when to go? How do you know what's right for you? How do you discover your own truth? Will you recognize it when it's in front of you?

 

[eastern sun]

casual consent in the big city

I live in a big city. Personal space is at a premium and elaborate rituals have been developed to keep the boundaries intact. On the other hand, inadvertent moments of intimacy with strangers abound.

Riding on the subway, I have allowed moments when my body came in contact with a sexy stranger to last, and last, and last, hoping against hope that he, or she, would not move away. And frequently, they don't.

So . . . last night, my husband and I are walking through the park and come upon an outdoor concert. The music is good. A mix of blues and zydeco. My kind of thing. And my husband generously suggests we stay for a while.

We find a couple of empty seats. He's not entirely happy, and I always feel uncomfortable when he's doing something "for me" that he isn't enjoying himself.

Another couple take the seats next to us. The guy is attractive. And big. And when he sits in the chair next to me, his body is close. I cannot avoid touching him. We instinctively move away from each other, following the protocol of the city, but there is no way we are going to avoid touching without holding ourselves away from each other.

Question - my husband enjoys watching my attraction to other men. I know he's bored, and want to please him. Do I sink back in my chair, and allow my body to rest against this stranger's?

Is this an issue of consent?

 

[HisSexyPet]

We are lucky. Incredibly fortunate. But we've also stuck with each other through circumstances that could have torn us apart.

We've been so mean to each other that we simply co-existed in the same house. We've been so self-centered and self-absorbed, so preoccupied with our own desires and fears and etc., that we completely missed what was going on in the other's life, and didn't even care that we were missing it. We've both harbored resentments that darkened our eyes, re-shaped our facial expressions and contorted our postures. We've yelled and screamed, and the house has holes in the walls and doors created by an angry fist or a foot. Not one of our original wedding dishes exist. They've all been broken through carelessness, rough living or being thrown across the room.

We have not lived gently with each other. And we have both hurt each other.

On the other hand, here we are. 25 years later. Maybe it helps that he is so easy-going, in spite of his expectations. Maybe it helps that I am so damn earnest, in spite of my self-centeredness.

I can be accused of romanticizing or idealizing this relationship we're living, and I have on occasion wished that I could actually skip over the parts I do skip over in my writing. Like the boring parts, the frustrating parts, the disappointing parts. The parts that would really make both of us look like damn fools.

Like the night before last when I came home from a night away with the kids, and instead of greeting him when he walked in the door, kept watching the movie "cause it's at a really good part" and then got snippy about having to wash the sheets twice in one week because he was so damn careless and inattentive and let a lube bottle leak all over my side of the bed while I was gone (knowing there had to be another woman involved).

Writing about those moments doesn't capture the part I want to hold on to, so I usually let them slide.

Maybe love is patient. But that's because it is open to everything that happens.

Maybe the more relevant question is - how do you know when to stay and when to go? How do you know what's right for you? How do you discover your own truth? Will you recognize it when it's in front of you?

I have loved your romanticized telling of your daily struggles and rewards, but this post has made me more hopeful of attaining what you have. Knowing you have been through the horrible times and came out stronger is more of an inspiration. I am probably not saying this right, but wanted you to know that this post has touched me and that I have eventually recognized what has been right in front of me the whole time, just disguised.
Thank you Eastern Sun.