Father Sun's Energy Worker

When I renewed my vows this past Winter Solstice, I didn't realize how much would change. Oracle warned me changes were coming, sure. Wolf my Guide gave me the clue that I needed to get out and meet people, to get out of my cave. Remembering the significance of that string of beads around my neck wasn't a coincidence.

But my service to Mother has been a gentle, almost kind guidance; a few things I was moved to do and more I was nudged to learn. I was not prepared for Father's sudden attention. He is a much more demanding top, to say the least. And if what happened the other day on a windy bluff is any indication, He's not willing to allow me to take my time and figure things out on my own. He will show me the changes He wants by making them and requiring me to upkeep them. Period. The response I am allowed is "yes sir".

Don't get me wrong. I am not complaining. I may have been called to this service, but I also gave myself willingly. There's the possibility that I might not have survived if I'd rejected the calling, but I embraced it. I have placed one foot in front of the other on this path I'm on of my own free will. I believe that this is exactly what I need to be doing with my life. That doesn't mean I'm totally comfortable with what's happening right now.

On the twentieth of December, 2012 (just so I don't forget the date), I lit my altar candles at dusk. I said my thanks, put on some quiet music and sat down to work on that Winter Solstice poem I put in an older post here. It came together easily, like so many of the important things do. And as I sat admiring the blue of it, the real significance hit me. I meant every word,  from describing the day's meaning to the peace my vows give me. I contemplated that. I mulled it and eventually wrote about it all over the place, happy in my collar, in my service, for the first time in a very long time.

That evening, the twentieth, I was changed by Them for the first time in a very long time. First came a rush of energy that left me a bit dizzy, but so calm and peaceful that it wasn't frightening. Then came the change, small but significant, gentle but firm. Oddly, I'm reluctant to describe exactly what was done, as if it's a test for those who meet me, or a sign to them. So if you do meet me, feel free to remark on it. I floated on the feeling of it all for days.

There have been other changes. Oracle once gave me subtle answers that required thought. Now I'm getting some answers that are as blunt as a stick thumping my thick skull and some so ambivalent as to be incomprehensible. Almost as though the answer is "that's not worth your attention right now." Instructions are sometimes given to me in clear words, although I do still get the intuitive urges I'm more used to. And for the first time I am required to meditate daily - forgetting means being woken in the middle of the night to do so in a less than comfortable way.

Father is a demanding top.

"Drive there" was accompanied by a clear memory image of where He wanted me. "Walk that direction" wasn't a suggestion. "Stop here," "sit" and "be still" didn't leave much to the imagination, either. But even though I didn't know how far I was supposed to go, I was allowed to take my walking stick, and although the answer to "sit how long?" was "however long it takes" the place chosen for me was comfortably grassy with a cedar tree for a back rest. And even though it was a cold and windy day on the bluff, the sun was bright and warm. I was allowed no questions, no choices but where to rest the stick. He gave instructions and I followed them. And he shifted my personal shields in a way I still don't totally understand two days later.

I had a moment or two of fear when I felt the changes happen. I was urged to trust, and I do, but I'm not sure my comfort was necessary. Later that day I read some of Raven Kaldera's words on being a god slave and I'm even more grateful for the comforts I was offered on that bluff. This path, this new type of service is a bit more scary than I'm used to. I'm being led gently into it, I know. The horseshoe in my old dream vision is gaining a new bit of significance, too, and the thought of being the horse for my Owners is frightening. But I trust, and if and when I'm set that task I will open my mouth for the metaphorical bit and stand still for whatever rider my Owners choose.

I chose to serve. I suppose I could unchoose - quit this service altogether. I won't, but I have that much free will. Past that, I am and will be whatever my Owners say, and I will be the best whatever I can be, learn what I'm led to and take the comfort I am offered. I know soul deep that my path would be harder to walk if I resisted even some of Their will. I choose not to.

This is not the path for everyone. I'm not sharing this as any sort of "how to" manual. I'm even sure that other divine owners won't treat their property like mine have, won't require the same things of them and won't allow (or sometimes require) them to write so freely about the process. If you walk a similar path, though, maybe you'll recognize some of this. Maybe it will help you to accept what's going on in your own journey. Maybe it will be a contrast for your journey and you can shake your head at me and tell me I have it easy. Say it loud, though. I have scars on my eardrums, remember. All part of the process.

Each time I've sat down to write an entry for this blog journal, I've been encouraged to do so, and even prompted with a subject once or twice. Today I sat down with the intent to say what's been on my mind since that very still hour I spent on a bluff. Father is a demanding top, and that thought makes me smile even as I worry just a bit about the work He is preparing this tool for. And the answering fond chuckle I hear in response to that sentiment is as good as the hand in my hair my submissive side craves to feel.

I am content to be owned by deities I trust. I accept the fact that I am being reshaped by them again. And I hope your journey is easier than mine.

Love, peace and comfort to you all.

Again, the Cycle Turns.

I'd talk about grieving, but for me that's a process that I'm nearly done with , at least for now. At least where it applied to my Grandma. What I want to talk about here is the moving on of the spirit.

For the last few days of her life, I stopped in to see her off and on. She had good care. She didn't suffer. But there was something else going on within her.

Grandma had Alzheimer's Disease. I helped care for her for years. I watched what happened to her body, her mind, and her spirit. Her mind disintegrated. Her body withered. Her spirit drew in on itself, focused more and more inwardly. As her mind came apart, lost track of what was familiar and lived in anxiety, her spirit tightened within. When finally three months ago we sent her to a Nursing Home because we couldn't take care of her anymore, her spirit was a quiet, huddled bit of her. My sweet, generous, loving Grandmother was there, but had no way to communicate with us, maybe no way to know what was going on.

Those last few days were different. Morphine stilled the pain of her body. Sedatives soothed her damaged mind. And her spirit unwound.

I wish I could tell you what it looked like, but I don't "see" spirits. I could feel it relax, stretch, soften. That was the woman I knew, the one who gave so freely and always had time to listen to a child and try to explain the world in the most positive way. When life gave her lemons, she didn't stop at lemonade, she made pie. And in her last few days, she was present in that ruined shell, her spirit warm and loving.

I suppose I looked a little odd at her bedside, smiling while she gasped to breathe through the last stages of pneumonia. It's a bit hard to explain why I don't sound more like the grieving grandchild. How can I? I'm thrilled. Not only has her suffering ended, but her beautiful spirit is free again! It's an occasion for dancing, singing, shouting with joy.

I'll miss her. I love her. We'll meet again. All the rest is details.

To Live Between

I live between. Between the world and the sky. Between the spirits and the people. Between man and woman. Between carnal and ascetic. Between dominant and submissive. Between teacher and student. Between body, mind and spirit. Between Mother, Father and Creator. Between the North, South, East and West. Between Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Wood.

I could go on, but that’s enough.

It’s not a perfect middle, this place where I’m at. I look like a woman, sometimes think like one and even rarely act like one. My contact with the spirits is often brief, and contact with people only sometimes longer. I am far more submissive in one world than the other. I stand strong between two or three or sometimes four realities and begin to waver among more. I feed my pleasures more often than my denials. My body is a bit overweight and my spirit a bit underfed. But I’m still between, still here, still touching more edges of things than most do.

And this is my place. Not dominant or submissive, but both and neither. Not male or female, but both and neither. Not only my Mother’s servant, but also my Father’s energy worker and my Creator’s shaman. And nothing at all; an empty bowl, a hollow bone, a blank page, a silent room. This is what it means to be shaman, to be me, to walk this path I’m on.

When you need to speak, I’ll strive to listen. When there is something for you to hear, I will talk. When you ask for help, I will seek it for you. If you ask a question, I’ll give you the best answer I have. When you need my focus, you will have all of it. And more often than not, I’ll respond to what you most need, either bringing out that side of myself for you or leading you to see that you need it.

But know this, too. When Mother needs me, I am hers to command. When the spirits tell me to wait, I do. When my feet itch to walk, I walk. If I am distracted, there is probably a reason. And if I give you a feather, a rock, a bone, a book, there is probably a reason for that, too. If I don’t seem to be acting the way you want, then there’s a reason for that, too, even if I might not be aware of it.

There is peace and joy in this life between, so much that it overwhelms me at times. Is there any wonder that I try to stay here, to continue this path, to do what those I have given myself to tell me to do? Even though I live between, confuse people around me and make few strong ties because of it. Even though so many things in my life are only things I’m holding for someone else. Even though the needs of others so often come before my own. Even though I gain new scars along with the experiences I’m given to grow from. Even though I end up explaining things to death and spending a lot of time examining my own self. Even though it may mean that I can’t belong to the pack I still long for. Every time I open my senses, still the chattering monkey brain, and simply feel where I am, I know that this is my place of harmony. That I am meant to live between.

Maybe all that made some things about me clear for you. Maybe it just muddied the waters more or ensured that you think I’m a total nut case. You can ask and I’ll try to explain, if you’d like. But if you understand, if you’ve been here, or are on this path yourself, I hope that you’ll talk to me. It’s a wonder filled path, but lonely, too. I know. I’m here. And I’ve taken this step.

Winter Solstice, 2012

Here we are again on the shortest day of the year. The official beginning of winter. And here for me a bright sunny day with some clouds and a blanket of snow pulled over the ground - the first snow we've had this winter. It's beautiful!

Every year on the Winter Solstice, there are things I do. Greet the dawn. Light a candle at dusk. And somewhere in between, spend at least a little time thinking about what I want to take from the old year into the new, because this is a day for renewal.

So many things have happened to me this year. I've moved to a new house, finished the first draft of a novel, gotten active in my own spiritual life again, taken a good look at my D/s relationship, joined FetLife, came to the end of one Path and started another, told my immediate family I'm kinky, changed occupations, met my soul's sister and made several new and wonderfully diverse friends. It's been a busy year, and one with many, many changes.

I joke about the fact that I'm getting out more by saying I'm coming out of my cave, but that's really what it feels like. Like I've been dwelling alone and all the light and noise out here is overwhelming, but in a good way. If that makes any sense. I'm loving the discussions that make me think, the presence of my spirit guides almost constantly nearby again, the touches of people who aren't afraid to be intimate, and all the new experiences. I'm almost giddy with it all, sometimes.

It's this happiness, this feeling of being (in a way) new again that I am taking with me into next year. My new and old friends, the new insights, my optimism about the novel, my renewed hunger for life and learning. And I'll also be taking along some very old and dear things.

The most enduring is this. Many many years ago, as I was beginning to understand some of what my spirituality meant to me, I made a very important choice. I accepted that the earth is my Mother, the sun my Father, and the Creator is the source of my spirit. And I gave myself back to them in service. I marked the occasion with a necklace of stone and other beads, a close fitting thing I take off only to repair and restring. It looks like a collar on purpose. It is one.

Since then I've learned a lot, grown into my abilities (there's always more to learn) and gotten more comfortable with myself. Comfortable enough to give voice to things I've never talked about, like my confused gender identity and my kinky mind that enjoys tying people up and playing with them like toys. Comfortable enough to say flat out that I personally belong to Mother Earth, that I serve as my Father Sun's energy worker, and that my Creator made me as I am for a purpose to which I am submissive before anything else.

This Winter Solstice my heart is filled with peace from knowing and accepting all of that once more. I feel more whole than I have felt in many years, more comfortable in my mind and in my skin, and ready to face the challenges the new year may bring.

In joy, in love, in peace, I share these thoughts with you, my friends.

You Can Love.

Today the world teaches us that we have to have goals, plans, dreams. Live for the future. IRA CD stock market shares insurance pre-paid grave stones just add body. Corporate ladders and careers and a job well done. Make every penny count, and every step and sit up and calorie too, so you can live longer, healthier, more productive, get more have more rest when you retire.

You can love.

Even kids have ambition. What will you be when you grow up? Doctor, lawyer, scientist? Write the next great novel? Walk on Mars? You gotta have a plan to get there, gotta be hungry, gotta want it.

You can love.

Life is a struggle, and what we get out of it is exactly what we fight for, tooth and nail, no matter who else gets hurt along the way.

Do we know? Do we care?

Because if we care, then we have to do something, don’t we? Give something up? Not have, so someone else can? Be the loser, so someone else can win?

You can love.

There's a woman in my life who doesn't remember who I am, doesn't remember changing my diapers and holding me when I was helpless, not even able to walk. She's not really sure where she is or what all the things around her are. Sometimes she remembers that the books are hers, but they're hard to make sense out of. Sometimes she gets lost in her own house. She's scared, and lonely for the people she knew and grew up with. Mom, siblings, cousins, aunts all gone. Just this nice stranger who says she's a granddaughter and brings the food and finds the lost things. And tucks her into bed. Because she loves.

There's a man living far from his wife and the child they fought so hard to have, so many lost pregnancies and false alarms. He teaches young men to do a good job of protecting other people's safety while looking out for themselves, so more of them will come home on their own two feet. It's hard for him to be so far away as his child grows up and his wife tries hard to be brave because she misses him too and things sometimes happen even though the teachers are supposed to be safe. But he loves.

There's a young woman who has worked so hard to learn skills that let her help others learn, communicate, and grow. And when she comes home she has three little adopted loves who call her mommy, depend on her for everything, and give the best hugs there are in return. She misses sleep, grabs quick meals and hurries through chores so she can spend that extra little bit of time with them. Because she loves.

They have dreams, and plans, and goals. And have redirected them so there is room for love. And when their struggle is hard, the money is tight or the night is cold and long, love provides the courage and comfort to go on. Love inspires you to do things you never thought you could, things beyond your plans and missing from your dreams.

You can love.

There was a man who helped load groceries into a car for a woman with a broken leg. There was a man who passed his hamburger out his car window to a homeless man. There was a woman who held the hand of an accident victim until paramedics arrived. There was a woman who brought furry joy to patients in a nursing home. There was a boy who raised money to buy toys for kids in the hospital. There was a family that spent their spare time bringing food and hungry people together.

All that was love.

Not one would tell you that the time, effort, money wasn't worth it. Not one would say that they wouldn't do it again. And I bet, given the chance, that they’d help someone else again.

You, too, can love.

Walking With Wolves

Yesterday I went on a tiny little hike, a planned walking journey, looking to recharge and, honestly, to find the courage to take the next step on my new Path. My introverted little cave where I've spent the last thirty years learning so much was comfortable. Reaching out to others, getting involved with a community, that's not comfortable at all. And pushing myself out of that comfort zone because of an intuitive leap is just downright scary. It's going to take courage, I know. This journey would at least allow me to walk off some of my nerves, even if nothing else happened.

I made my preparations, gathered water, nuts for a snack, notebook and pens, a warm shirt. My walking stick. The camera, tucked into the little day pack at the last minute. And then I drove out to the park.

I knew where I wanted to go. Frenchman's Bluff has a cliff overlooking the river, a place where wind and sun touch the bare rocky bones of the planet. A place where power gathers and will tingle up through my feet. I've meditated there before. I hadn't made the hike since I gained titanium enhancements to my ankle, but I knew there was a shortcut from the Equestrian Camp, and I was taking it.

My phone's mapping app helped me find the right turns, the right parking lot. I took my pack and my stick and started my hike. Three deep breaths, clearing my mind of negative thoughts. A moment taken to ground and center myself. A check of my shields. Then off toward the gravel road that would lead to the trail I wanted, with easy, sure steps, paced to my breathing, my heartbeat, and the click-thump of my stick at every other step.

Monkey brain, that chattering part of me that needs to know why and how, that analyzes everything, all the time, I set to watching for the trail markers, to making sure my feet came down safely, to keeping the rhythm of my pace. Wolf brain, that intuitive, curious part of me that lives now and here and also in the place where spirits travel, I set free to take the lead, to see and feel and do whatever I needed to do on this journey. Wolf saw the path up to the cliff before the rest of me did, and up the hill I went. Out of shape me panted my way to the top, but Monkey kept the rhythm even and Wolf kept me going until there was bare rock under my feet, open air before me and running water far below. I stood in the tingle of power and caught my breath.

There were steps on the trail. A woman. A dog. A man. I said hello to all three. Friendly people. Friendly dog. They went on their hike. I picked my place and sat. Monkey brain kept watch for danger, kept my breathing even. Wolf took in details. A yellow flower right in front of me. Wind noisy in the cottonwoods across the river. Two little songbirds that skimmed out of the trees behind me and disappeared into those same cottonwoods. A skinny little cedar tree clinging to the side of the cliff to my right. The smell of turning leaves. A daddy long legs hunting around on the rocks beside me. The drone of a combine off in the not so far distance. A white playball floating in a cage of roots at the edge of the river, slowly turning and bumping against it's woody bars. Wolf wanted pictures to take home, so I snapped a few.

And then just sat and breathed and felt the wind. Eventually, Wolf remembered my purpose and sent out a call the spirits, asking for assistance. My spirit pack came first. The white wolf, the black wolf, they nosed me a moment, let me know they were watching, and moved off. Brother wolf and Sister wolf came and stayed, bouncy and playful as always. Before long, I had to move. Sitting still is so hard for them, it always makes it hard for me. I stood, stretched, gathered my pack and stick, took a moment to thank the place for the energy it had shared, then headed back down the trail.

Wolf (and Brother and Sister) could have taken other trails, could have sent me on a long walk, but they didn't. They headed back toward the horse camp, toward the car. There was so much to see, though. Tree roots and tiny flowers. Fallen logs with shelf fungus. Broken rocks littering a steep hillside in patterns that resembled houses seen from an airplane. Walnuts falling to the ground with dull thumps. Two cars went past me on the narrow gravel road, and I waved at their drivers. Monkey brain stayed focused on it's task, and I didn't turn an ankle or take a single sliding step on the rocky, washed path. My stick tapped the ground with every other measured pace. Brother and Sister ghosted off into the woods, playing in the sunshine and the sound of wind in the leaves all around us. They stopped at the edge of the paved road I'd have to cross to get back to my car. Stopped just as the hawk flew over my head and landed in a tree just past that road.

I smiled and said hello to her. Brother and Sister left quietly, deferring to this living, shy creature. Wolf took me on along the path, across the road, beside the tree where the hawk waited. She watched me. Let me get a good look at her. And then she flew, skimming just a couple of feet off the ground, past my car and onto the top of a dead, cut tree. I followed. I left my pack and stick leaning against my car but took the camera with me. The hawk let me take her picture, not once but several times, while she alternately watched me and the field below her.

Then she flew. Past a cluster of shade trees, along the fence line, then up and gone. Did I snap a picture? No. I was busy watching her glide so effortlessly, until my attention was caught by a tree. An oak tree, of course, with leaves starting to turn red in patterns that were fascinating. I leaned against his trunk to look up, and was welcomed there, comforted by the solid, peaceful, happy presence of him. It didn't matter that he was a stranger to me. I basked in his welcome and shared my own joyful energy with him before I took some pictures, then leaned on him again, hugging him, thanking him for his kindness, welcome and the breathtaking beauty he'd shared with me. I wish the photo really did him justice, but it's a pale view of the experience.

When I turned from him, I was gifted with another photo op, some huge mushrooms growing at the base of another oak nearby. And when I turned back to my car, there was a beautiful view of early fall colors and clear blue sky.

It was enough, really. Although, on my way out of the park by way of a road I'd never followed far but my phone's map said went through to the highway, I met a small flock of turkeys, was waved at by a groundhog, and was totally ignored by a box turtle walking patiently down the side of the road.

This morning, Monkey brain (who has been analyzing all this all night and this morning while editing photos), says; "Look what happens when you just remember; Be, See, Play, and Balance. You have beautiful memories, nice pictures, and a new tree friend. And you're all charged and ready for tomorrow. You can do this new thing, if you just remember those things. Be your own authentic self. See what's there without judging. Play, because you can't take everything so seriously. And remember your balance, because when you are balanced, you are confident and sure of your capabilities." Wolf brain simply knows that I am ready.

Timing and Teachers

On 8/28/2012 I wrote:

The steps of my path have been winding, looping crooked things taking me past and through so many places and lives that it is a dizzying experience. I attempt to understand it all, to see the many sides as I whirl by. To mull it like spiced wine until it tastes right and rich within.

Synthesis and acceptance are the gifts of my journey. I love the world, it's scars and it's beauty, it's fragility and it's hardiness. I love the people, the sweet, the shy, the bold, the wild. The beautiful diversity of what is around fascinates me. Together, such a wondrous whole. Individually, such marvelous beings.

My path continues, always. The urge to teach is as strong as the urge to learn. I have moved from "Be" to "Grow" once again. This uncomfortable state both terrifies and woos me and I can't fight the wind of it. Embracing my imperfect duality was a step, knowing I was not alone was another. Each story I write externalizes my journey. I can learn from them as well as teach with them.

I am not broken, and neither is anyone else. This is the most important lesson of all, that each individual is exactly what they should be, following whichever guides they choose to follow. 

I posted this in my FetLife writings, but I didn't post what followed, what happened the very next day in a chatroom connected to a FetLife group I belong to. We were talking about rope, someone suggested I look up a certain well known presenter on rope bondage. One google search later and I’m looking at a teacher who resonates with me on so many levels. Down to “love” inked onto his skin. I know that what I need for my journey will come when I need it. I’ve known that for years, since I started to understand Path and Oracle. It’s really no surprise at all that I found, right after such a deep revelation, right after the first personal runic reading in years that screamed a resumption of my journey, right after the itchy feeling in the back of my head started up, right after the flock of crows that burst across my path, right after an emotional storm so strong it left me physically ill, someone who speaks to what I am becoming. 

The question is: can I find the courage to introduce myself after reading through blogs and journals and listening to podcasts while nodding and hissing "Yes!" to so much he's said, so much he's written? I'm not good at these things, I know. I'm an introvert, and I'm pretty socially awkward - unless the spirits are talking to me? Are they now? Well, I can say maybe. I mean, he just wrote about being human on his own FetLife profile. And in that more than a month since I first set eyes on his website, his name has been brought up to me over and over by people who don't know each other at all. Yesterday the crows were circling in flocks. Flocks of dozens of crows. When did I see them? In the car, while I was listening to one of those podcasts again. 

Maybe it's a good thing my guides can hit me over the head with a spiritual brick. I seem to need that every now and again. I am off, right now (in the middle of the night, of course) to write that introduction. Honest!