SmartAssOrchid


SmartCouple Dominant Couple, 27	Smartboy Male Dominant, 21, Southampton	SmartAssNJ Male Submissive, 23

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	About SmartAssOrchid "The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along." ~ Rumi My old tagline read, "I'm new to BDSM, but certainly not new to common sense. I'm prudent and assertive and have an extremely low bullshit tolerance." I'm not as new to BDSM anymore, but the rest of it remains true. Lessons learned, I'm done for a while. I'm not looking for connection; I just like reading profiles.

Just ran across a profile of a so-called dominant who has "been in the lifestyle 20+ years."

If, in 20 years, you have not learned tolerance for other people's style of play, and you don't know the difference between a species and a gender, you're either lying or incredibly stupid.

And those two aren't mutually exclusive.

For Sam

The Reed Flute's Song
~ Jalalu'ddin Rumi, Translated by Coleman Barks~

Listen to the story told by the reed,
of being separated.

"Since I was cut from the reedbed,
I have made this crying sound.

Anyone apart from someone he loves
understands what I say.

Anyone pulled from a source
longs to go back.

At any gathering I am there,
mingling in the laughing and grieving,

a friend to each, but few
will hear the secrets hidden

within the notes. No ears for that.
Body flowing out of spirit,

spirit up from body: no concealing
that mixing. But it's not given us

to see the soul. The reed flute
is fire, not wind. Be that empty."

Hear the love fire tangled
in the reed notes, as bewilderment

melts into wine. The reed is a friend
to all who want the fabric torn

and drawn away. The reed is hurt
and salve combining. Intimacy

and longing for intimacy, one
song. A disastrous surrender

and a fine love, together. The one
who secretly hears this is senseless.

A tongue has one customer, the ear.
A sugarcane flute has such effect

because it was able to make sugar
in the reedbed. The sound it makes

is for everyone. Days full of wanting,
let them go by without worrying

that they do. Stay where you are
inside such a pure, hollow note.

Every thirst gets satisfied except
that of these fish, the mystics,

who swim a vast ocean of grace
still somehow longing for it!

No one lives in that without
being nourished every day.

But if someone doesn't want to hear
the song of the reed flute,

it's best to cut conversation
short, say good-bye, and leave.

If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don't write, because our culture has no use for it.
Anais Nin

Almost done, almost done!

Looking back, I almost have to laugh at the struggle that I've gone through with these "simple" English papers. Through the examination of Prospero's world, I see mine screaming back at me.

Writing for me is always difficult; I'm ego-centric enough to realize that, after struggling, each assignment can very well be used as an exercise in self-examination, although it doesn't always start that way.

Spiritually and emotionally constipated, I'll look at a text, attempting to see something irrelevant of me. I fail every time, and yet I continue doing it over and over again. There's one struggle: attempting to avoid that which is so clearly before you.

It becomes less of an assignment and more of an event. An exercise in honesty, in perserverance, in completeness.

There's another struggle: Acceptance of resonant truths. Some of which should be changed while others should be celebrated.

Step by step, and assignment by assignment, I dare say, I'll expose it all.

Heard an oft-repeated saying today while dealing with a local tragedy: With God, all things are possible.

I didn't believe that when I prayed to be swept away on a magic carpet ride as a child (I blame Scooby Doo, sadly).

I'm not so certain I believe it now.

Perhaps a more accurate statement would be, "In all things, God is possible."

Disappearing is a lazy way of saying, "I'm not assertive enough to tell you this isn't going to work."

Clinging is the desperate way of saying, "Please love me!"

I don't cling. If you claim to be dominant, I would expect you, at the very least, to be assertive.

If you disappear and reappear, chances are, I'll prod you to make sure that you are okay. If I like you, my chief concern is that you are okay.

Not that any sense of "us" is okay.

I don't need an "us." At least not an "us" that includes you. I won't stalk you, talk bad about you, or stir things up about you. With prompting, I'm perfectly happy to delete you from my chat, delete you from my phone, and delete you from my life.

There is no place, in any of these, for someone who doesn't wish to be there.

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SmartAssOrchid

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