Monday, August 17, 2009, 1933 hrs.
I am by nature a skeptical person. I believe this started before I
was ten when I noticed that religions other than the one I was raised
in believed just as strongly that they were the “One True Faith” as our
own church did. I can recall asking my mother about this, asking how we
could know that we were right when all those other, and I’ll add much
larger, churches also seemed to “know” that they were right. She said
something to the effect that we knew we were right because we were
right, because the Writings of Emmanuel Swedenborg said they were right
and we knew he was right because God told him he was right. And, of
course, we knew God told him he was right because he told us God told
him he was right in his Writings.
Even at such a tender age, I found this circular reasoning to be,
umm, unconvincing. It wasn’t until much later, as I entered adulthood,
at least legally, that I formed a worldview that didn’t include, or
necessarily exclude, a Supreme Being. I found atheism to be just as
fanatically religious as all the other religions, so I rejected that
too. I became and remain today a devout and devoted agnostic. Ask me
how the world got here and I’ll tell you the Absolute Truth. I don’t
know, I wasn’t there. Ask me the purpose of life and I’ll tell you that
life is its own purpose.
When I rejected religion, I rejected almost everything that smacked
of religion in my view, ideas like spirituality and energy flow. I came
to believe in only what could be seen, what could be measured, what
could be definitively described in absolute terms.
When I finally joined the BDSM community and started hearing the
term “energy flow,” my thought was “what kind of hocus pocus bullshit
is this?” I remained skeptical about energy flow until I experienced it
in a scene. Since then I’ve experienced what seemed to be many
different kinds of energy exchanges, although nowhere near as many as
are possible. I think I need to explore energy flow to find the path I
need in life. I think I need to experience it and seek to experience it
in as many different varieties as possible. I’ve tasted enough
different types to feel the difference between male energy and female
energy. I think if I were blindfolded and earmuffed effectively and
were tortured by an unknown person (to me at least, not to my guardian,
which I would make sure I had before making such an experiment) who was
careful never to touch me with his skin, I would, after a while, be
able to tell you the sex of that person correctly much more often than
I’d be wrong.
Sounds like an interesting experiment, any takers? Couldn’t be done in a single night.
Another term I started hearing a lot of was “spirituality.” This
term I associated exclusively with religion, probably because it and
variations of “spirit” were used so often in my religious education.
When I’d hear people talk about their spirituality and spiritual
quests, my mental eyes would roll back in my head and I’d move on to
something else.
I’m beginning to think that there’s something more to spirituality
than religion, or rather something entirely different from it. But what
there is to it is a foggy notion to me at best and I hardly know where
to begin exploring it. And I’m convinced I need to explore it to find
my own true path.
I’ve had this tendency until fairly recently to dismiss all of the
thoughts and words of people who I’ve heard say a lot of things I
either disagreed with or things I just couldn’t believe. I’ve finally
discovered that doing this is a bad form of prejudice and a sign of
having a closed mind.
I first came to realize this when the issue of gay marriage started
being bandied about some years ago. I’m not a fan of the far, in your
face, left. I disagree with most of what they have to say and find
their usual methods of saying it to be both undignified and offensive.
Because they were the principal proponents of gay marriage, my initial
reaction was to oppose it.
Then one day, while reading an article opposing gay marriage, I
found myself saying “Bullshit!” to every argument the writer put forth.
“Gay marriage is wrong because God’s against it.” Well, I don’t believe
in God, so that argument goes right out the window. “Marriage should be
between a man and woman because that’s the way it’s always been.” Well,
before the institution of slavery was abolished, it too was the way it
had always been. Didn’t make it right, nor did it make abolishing it
wrong. “The purpose of marriage is children.” Well, if that’s the case,
no woman past the age of menopause should be allowed to marry, no
couple should be allowed to marry without first being tested for
fertility and signing a pledge to have children. “Allowing gay people
to marry one another will destroy the institution of marriage.” Well …
how? How on earth can allowing two people who love one another to marry
harm the institution of marriage? How on earth can forbidding two
people who love one another to marry preserve the institution of
marriage? How could allowing Tom and Dick, or Jane and Sue to marry one
another possibly effect the marriage of John and Sally? What destroys
the institution of marriage is the institution of divorce, yet I hear
no clamoring to abolish that.
After that, I listened to what the pro gay marriage people were
saying, rather than dismissing it simply because of who they were. And
I found myself agreeing with them on the issue. Then I realized that
dismissing what somebody has to say simply because I’d disagreed with
everything else I’d ever heard them say was a knee jerk reaction,
totally unworthy of someone who likes to consider himself a thinking
human being.
Thinking of that reminded me of reading Hitler many years ago when I
had a more open mind. 99.9% of what he had to say was pure, hate filled
drivel. But even he managed to be right on a couple of esoteric
historical points.
If I can give one of the greatest human monsters of all time a fair
hearing and find a few pearls of wisdom in his words, is there any
human being who doesn’t deserve an equally fair hearing? Who, although
I might find 99% of what he says to be useless to me, might not be able
to teach me something that IS useful to me on my path?
My path is not your path; nor is your path mine. Our destinations,
other than the grave, are not the same. But there are certainly likely
to be points where our paths cross, possibly run together for awhile.
Although the rest of your path might be alien and incomprehensible to
me, by shedding my skepticism, opening my mind and examining your path,
so far as I can see it, I might find some guiding lights on those
points where our paths intersect or run together. And I may find that
some of those lights help illuminate for me those parts of my path that
are foreign to you.
I need to start exploring all the varieties of energy exchange
possible within the BDSM lifestyles, the masculine along with the
feminine, the gentle along with the harsh. I’ve long stated a
preference for the feminine energy over the masculine, the harsh over
the gentle. But, just because I prefer chocolate ice cream doesn’t mean
I reject strawberry. Never did much cotton to vanilla though.
While I’ve always preferred the feminine energy, the masculine has
its own rough charms that I feel a need to explore as well. Of the two
greatest scenes in my memory, one was with a very highly skilled and
sadistic man who showed me what the moon looked like from Jupiter and
Mars.
I’d rather eat a pussy than swallow a cock. But I’ve had a very
strong hunger for cocks of late, cocks up my asshole, cocks down my
throat, cocks sliming my eyes and beard and hair. I’ve been feeling a
strong urge to try to arrange a very rough all male gang bang, with me
as the guest of honor.
Filthy minded cocksucker, aren’t I?
I’ve always preferred rough play to gentle. But I feel a need to
explore the energy flows of the gentle as well. The other of the two
best scenes in my memory was the famous First Lilliputian at APEX early
last year when Mistress Skye and Wednesday first sewed me to the table
top, while a male dom just beyond my head kept tying a gorgeous girl to
the winch in various ways, then dangling her from the ceiling, two
stories almost directly above me. They took me out past Saturn that
night, higher than I’ve ever been before or since. I’ve described the
condition I got into as feeling kind of like a forty five minute, full
body orgasm, with my genitalia no more engaged than all the rest of my
body. They grew concerned after a while because of the way I was
trembling from head to toe. I was a veritable harryquake. When they
started talking with each other about that and how maybe they better
cut me loose, I wanted to say, “No! I’m fine! Continue please! Don’t
stop! Ever!” But I was almost totally beyond the ability to form words.
I could understand them, but speak them? Not quite.
The only words I could get out were, “Hands. More hands.”
Unfortunately that didn’t mean much to them and I couldn’t elaborate.
What I wanted to say was that as much as the pain was making me so
high, so equally were the ways they were simply touching me, a hand on
my chest, a caress, a gentle pat here and there. I wanted to ask for
more of that, much more, ask them to invite everybody in the building
to come over and just give me touch. It was those touches that were
feeding me the energy I was experiencing as much as, if not more than,
the pain.
Seriously, while I’ve never been higher than that scene made me,
taking me way out past Saturn, I think if I’d been able to ask for
those hands, and gotten them, they would have sent me clear to Sirius.
I need to start exploring the possibilities of spirituality. I don’t
think any one person can teach me this, as I don’t believe any
pre-existing path towards it will work for me. But I think everybody
for whom it has meaning can teach me something. It doesn’t matter if
99% of what works for any of them is of no value to me, if the other 1%
is gold, as I think it very well may be. If a prospector threw away
every pan full because 99% of what was in it was of no value to him,
nobody would ever find any gold.
Just as I asked my friends within the community to help me
financially last week and they came through more than I’d dreamed they
might, I’m now going to ask for their help, their guidance, their
suggestions and advice in this spiritual quest. This one won’t require
any money, just time and talk and patience. Patience mainly because it
takes patience to talk with me with my social awkwardness, my slow
thought processes, my deafness and the resultant occasional inability
to understand even clearly spoken words.
Show me, please, the lights that illuminate your paths so I can see
if any of them will work on mine. Tell me of your beliefs so I can see
if any of them make sense to me. Be my mentors, please, my teachers, my
guides and my Masters.
Even if you tell me that you honestly and truly believe that Mumbo
Jumbo, God of the Congo has been the Big Boss all along, I promise not
to scoff or ridicule what works for you. I don’t promise to be
converted, but I promise to listen to with an open mind and not try to
convince you that Mumbo Jumbo is a myth. I don’t promise to respond to
any particular thing you tell me right away, sometimes I’ll need time
to digest it. Some things, I have no doubt will be indigestible to me,
and I may never be able to respond to them. But, I’ll give all of them
what thought I can, and will respond to what I can when I can, even if
my response is here in this journal.
Speaking of this journal, I keep hearing from readers of my previous
journal with the last Mistress, about how much they enjoyed reading
them and seeing where my warped mind was warping out to. For the
longest time, I thought she was the only reader, that I was posting
them for nothing. I got no responses, and no comments for a long time.
I didn’t know that she was getting them, though, until she told me one
day near the end. Along with the heart of a slave, which she told me I
have and I believe she was right in that, I have the heart of a writer.
The heart of a writer feeds on knowing there are readers, on feedback
from them, both positive and negative. If you have something nice to
say, say it. If you have questions to ask, ask them. If you have
something nasty to say, say it too, I have thick skin. Ask some of
those who have beaten it just how thick my skin is. Flame on, sometimes
a little fire is good for the environment and often a writer, a slave
and a seeker can learn and gain more from the negative comments than he
can from the positive. If the comments are useful to me, I’ll use them.
If I have a useful response, you’ll get it, although it might take
awhile. If they’re just spiteful and nasty, with no value, then I’ll
ignore them and delete them in those venues they can be deleted from.
I plan on using some of the same conventions here that I used in my
last journal. Not the third person speak I adopted in the last one. I
won’t resume that unless some time in the future it feels right to me
again. But, I intend to continue the honesty and openness from it, to
continue exploring and exposing the depths of the psycho-sexual
cesspool that passes for my twisted mind. If you want to keep exploring
it with me, then tune in next time, whenever that is.
Hmm, that gives me an idea. It helps me to know that people are
reading and it doesn’t hurt to know who. If, instead of checking my
profiles on and Collarme to see if I’ve posted anything of
late, you’d like to get it in your email, I could make an email list
and send them at the same times I post them.
For that matter, as some of you know, I also write pornographic
fiction, and occasionally autobiographical anecdotes, some of which are
posted on FL. I haven’t been doing much of that for the last few
months, but I’ll be taking it up again soon. Some of it can’t be
published on FL; it’s just too damned nasty. Nasty enough to make
Jefferson James blanch. Free plug for that calumny. Visit jeffersonjames.com.
Be forewarned, some of my stuff is truly vile filth. None of it
involves children but there’s this one about a teenager who..… well,
nevermind. If you’d like to read what I’ve written so far, and get the
new stuff as I finish it, drop me a note off site. Because some of the
porn is so nasty, I’ll make two lists, if there’s any interest. One
will be for everything, the journal and the nasty (written only, no
pictures unless they’re of me) porn. The other, for those to whom the
porn is just too nasty, will be only for the journal and anecdotes.
Although the journal will be pretty nasty too in places, it just won’t
be fiction.
I use the same name everywhere, on YM, (at)gmail(dot)com and the
BDSM sites. Drop me a note; tell me which list you’d like to be on,
journal or everything. Who knows, enough interest could even inspire me
to finish taking out the “Garbage.”
Your humble servant.