In Tatters

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I knelt at His feet in the utter mess I’d made. My struggle to succeed was stark. No one had ever seen me so disheveled…in such embarrassing circumstances. As He cleaned me up for the second time two minutes, I looked up to meet His steady gaze and tried to gauge his reaction. Disgust at another disastrous, completely unimpressive act of service? Frustrated at my inability to get it together? Sadistically amused at another ridiculous unglamorous predicament I’d once again found myself in? I knew he was taking in every fucking minute detail of the wreck before Him and squirreling it away in the vault of His mind, but what did He feel? His stoic expression offered me no hint. Without comment He stood firm in front of me. Fuckin unwavering. He hadn’t walked away. He hadn’t stepped back. I swear He may have even leaned in. As soon as I’d semi-collected myself, I began my third attempt even as I tried in vain to push the remaining proof of my ineptitude out of view, hoping it would simply
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My Church

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Several times the last week I ran into this topic, and it stayed at the top of my mind all last weekend as I struggled to wrap my arms around my next steps forward in my growth and evolution.

The "lifestyle."  This thing that I do.  This idea, activities, community that I probably give half of my free time to isn't a simply a little hobby for me.  Or a frivolous pastime.

This is...
My church.
My religion.
My chosen set of ideals and frameworks that resonate at the base of my soul where I begin.

So long ago as a young teenager, the concepts of Dominance and submission, of service, obedience, of passion and intensity beyond orgasm...they were all just...there.  It wasn't like I had a D/s relationship model I looked up to or a culture norm of male Dominance ingrained into me.  Power/Authority exchange - even with my many feminist standards - was simply the prism through which I viewed life and relationships.  I didn't have words or structures or tangible concepts I could articulate, but that prism was the only structure for my personal life that made sense in my mind, and rarely did I find a Man who could fit into that vision.

I've spent the last decade actively pursuing my interest in the lifestyle to varying degrees.  With each significant jump forward in my journey my landing was met with an internal welcomed recognition of "I'm Home."  My soul would breathe such a deep sigh of relief that I'd nearly cry.  It was true...I was very much finally home.

When life and circumstances push the lifestyle out of practice/reach, my inherent response is just as profound.  My source of life energy dwindles, leaving me uninspired, untethered, and out of sorts.  I am my best me when I'm embedded in the structures of the lifestyle and frequently surrounded by my small but growing chosen family...my Tribe.

Don't get me wrong.  I still have a significant vanilla component to my life.  I'm not a nun or fanatic or independently wealthy eccentric who's forsaken all to devote my life to my church.  My broader human responsibilities and vanilla commitments are very much an active and vital part of my life:  family, work, career, vanila passions and pursuits and simple joys.  In all things...balance.

Yet, my church and religion are my cornerstones.

Protocols (when I have them) and my writing...my prayers
Harlem Munch...church socials.
NYC slave Munch...prayer meetings.
Classes and S&M.NYC...Sunday school.
MAsT...sermons and testimony.
Rituals & Playing...my blessed communion.

A final thought...

Sunday morning, I watched Mama Vi's Keynote at MsC 2018 | https://youtu.be/104ptzMjAUU.  I've heard many, MANY wonderful things about Mama Vi for years now, and I'd heard much praise about this keynote, but that was the first time I'd heard her speak and the message from that keynote.  Despite the tiny video, her presence lept from the screen, and her words reinforced much of what has been on my mind the last week with one significant addition.

We. Must. Protect. What we love.

Message received and heard.

Many blessings,
~DominaKat

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