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.