You know, when I am at a loss for words of my own, I turn to quotes. Today, this came up for me:

MARY OLIVER
to live 
in this world



you must be able

to do three things

to love what is mortal;

to hold it



against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go 

I love that youall are willing to hold space for my tears and sorrow. And I’m sure I will need that space, if not now, then at some time in the future. There may always be a hole in my heart, an open space where Sir Jon lives. But I stand at a crossroads of sorts now.

Every day, Sir X is becoming more like the man he was when I first met him. He’s investing a lot of energy in changing his perspective and his mind set. He’s gaining tools that Dom’s use to be good Doms. He’s not a sadist at all – at least not now. But he’s discovered that there are lots of different types of Doms.

I met a Dom on fet the other day who claimed to be a Pleasure Dom and that made me smile. Sir X is finding ways to be a Dom that fit his personality, and of course I think that’s the best way to do it.

So I feel like I’m at a crossroads. Part of my heart is numb or aching. Part of my heart is watching Sir X and longing to be able to trust his transformation. And part of me is quiet and still, just staying in touch with myself and my heart, waiting to see where I go from here. I picture myself a bit like this:

{Alice in Wonderland and Dorothy of Oz having tea, their cats at their feet. Caption reads: “I’ve seen some weird shit.”

In the sense of waiting to see what comes next, this quote comes up. I’ve probably shared it a bunch of times already, but it belongs here again:

“Letting there be room for not knowing is the most important thing of all. When there’s a big disappointment, we don’t know if that’s the end of the story. It may just be the beginning of a great adventure. Life is like that. We don’t know anything. We call something bad; we call it good. But really we just don’t know.”
― Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Time

In that quiet part of my mind, fantasies begin to swirl. The man in these fantasies is faceless again, and if Sir Jon and Sir X fade in and out of the mix, they are just observers now. 

Just the tiniest snippet of a fantasy lingers – a man in a recliner who calls me to him. He lets me climb up in his lap and just holds me for a long time. I settle into him, finding comfort in his arms, cuddled close, sighing with pleasure.

And that’s all. Not even a real fantasy. If I believed in God, I could think of him as a Heavenly Father, providing shelter.  I don’t believe in that Father God idea, so I could let him be a man. But I do believe that God is Love. Maybe I am cuddling up with Love itself.

Not romantic love, not kinky love, but the heart of Love itself. Not just the love I feel in my own life, the people who I love and who love me, but all of Love – the love we have for each other, self-love, our love of our children, tender love, tough love, love that breaks us open and invites us to heal.

Yeah. All of that. Holding me close.

In the middle of some conflict I was trying to resolve in a work setting, I had someone tell me, somewhat scornfully, “Oh, you always think we should just all hold hands and sing Kumbaya!” I had to laugh, because there is some truth to that. So let me end by sharing this delightful reggae version of the song: