wp-1480896070825.jpgI have been thinking a lot about the early days of our relationship – back before I would even have called it such a thing.  I am aware of a number of reasons why I wouldn’t have called what we had and did a relationship then.

  1. It was online and online friends/crushes/relationships don’t count do they?
  2. I was keeping the fact that it was a relationship from myself because otherwise I would have had to stop engaging and I didn’t want to do that.
  3. He had taught me how to use a silo in my mind in which all that we did and were existed so that I could live with the guilt and shame of it.
  4. I felt that as a submissive it wasn’t my position to make that statement, as my Master it was His to decide
  5. There was a kind of safety in it not being a relationship.  A safety and a place and time to explore with none of the expectations that I had felt so keenly in any other relationship I had had.
  6. I liked it being something I couldn’t quantify according to the narrow confines of the world I had.  It didn’t even have to push at those edges, it was outside them.  It was its own sun.

In this heightened place where my body shivered with white hot heat and I had licence to cry, to laugh, to beg and to crawl, the relationship not only was its own sun, He was my god.  My heart swelled with the passion of serving Him, and it filled me up in such a way that I was bigger and better after each time we met.  This life that existed at the margins of all that I had known until then, apart from my earlier experiences as a born again charismatic Christian.  When I think about that time there were/are so many places where the me I was there touched the eye He saw and drew out of me.

Is it strange to make this connection between a D/s relationship and a religious one?  Not for me.  As a non-conformist evangelical I was convinced that I had a direct relationship with God.  He had died not just to save everyone, but specifically to save me.  He had seen my name written into the Book of Life.  His love flowed over me when I was in ecstatic prayer, singing in tongues with the sheer joy of being a child of God. I told everyone I met of the joy I felt and that they could have.  I stood on stages, in front of audiences and shared my testimony.  I glowed with all the light a teenager released from the requirement to be surly and at odds with the world has within them.  And that is a mighty bright light.  My passion was unleashed and it fed me and the people around me.

When, in later life, shadowed with care and dulled by the very reasonable requirements that the day to day chores of child-rearing and home making for 30 years of my life had rendered from me, I found this place within me again, I greeted it like the old friend it was.

The devotion to God in my teens had given me a purpose and a structure.  I prayed morning and night and often during the day.  I spent time contemplating God, thinking about heaven, wondering about love and its capacity for self sacrifice, being thankful for its impact on my life.  I attended Bible studies, read the Bible completely twice. I discussed meanings of verses, memorised them for conversations.  Practised for my vocation, my calling of spreading The Word through the rock band I was part of. From the age of fourteen my life revolved around reading, thinking, and making and performing music.  I had a purpose that fed me, more than that, its primary purpose was to feed me and make me a force for good in the world.  And that was the significant bit.  It fed me first.

When my M came into my life I regained a purpose I had lost and in the placing of Him at the centre of my life actually found myself again.  I saw myself through His eyes and I was glorious, in the same way that I found myself remade as a glorious being through my early faith.  My devotion to Him, and the sheer pleasure of worshipping Him in the ways He wanted in small discrete parts of my life fed me, and I was as hungry to be seen as a small child. That He wanted all of my presence, my being, when we were together was the most affirming thing I had experienced for such a long time.

It is easy to fade from your own life as you care for others and that is what had happened to me.  I don’t blame anyone for this, it was my choice to care and I would do it again.  I created and grew and fed four marvellous human beings and those times were joyous.  But the slow, slow dulling felt inevitable as they grew and shined.  For a long time I thought it was the natural way of things but this new growth sprang, vivid green and heading for the light with all the energy of a sunflower, growing and following the sun through the late summer warmth.

Most gods suffer a fall from grace.  In the past when I have been put on a pedestal I have always pitched myself off it as soon as I could.  I find the idea of being worshipped frightening, the requirement to live up to something always fills me with a sense of barely concealed terror.  I need someone to be my ground and my sky, to wrap me around with calm and protection.  To see me and still love me even though I am not perfect.

A D/s relationship has, I think, to have a fall from grace too and I welcomed ours as we moved into a more mundane expression of our connection.  I see it as a deepening not a lessening but I am always delighted as we scale the heights again together and touch that deep running sense of there being something beyond where we are physically and emotionally and together move into the supernatural, extra-natural places that D/s can take us to.

In my Christian faith the body was problematic, particularly a female one which had come into the world as a result of sin.  My spirituality led me to try to leave my body behind, to cleanse it of the scarlet sins it experienced and craved.  In my life now, my body is my temple, my chalice of pleasure and sustenance.  I have truly come home.

I am my Beloved’s and He is mine and His Banner over me is love. Song of Songs 6:3

 

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