It's 3:00am on a warm Spring night in NYC. The city and its inhabitants have dozed off, gaining strength for tomorrow's usual urban push and shove. I should be asleep. I wish I was asleep, but for the first time in a long time, the need to surrender dogs my soul. It's fucking ironic that the toughest moments of being unowned always seem to be after I've been in Top Space. How fucking cliche and stereotypical is that? ~augh~ Anyone who knows me understands those are two adjective rarely applicable to me, but it is what it is.
No, I didn't beat anyone's ass, but tonight I test drove another class. the one I was most unsure of concept wise—The 9 Service Languages of Authority Transfer Relationships/Dynamics. It was a LOT of fucking content, but the concept seems to have resonated well with the handful of seasoned M/s veterans I tested my theory with tonight.
The Top Space energy combined with the vibe of success has left me humming. I've meditated. I've French Pressed (those that know know). I've read mind candy kinky romance. I've zoned out on NYT word games. There's nothing left for me to do but write.
It's not often that I allowed myself to be vulnerable with words. I've honestly been too fucking busy the last few years with work, service to the community, family, and pandemic survival to spare much time, energy, and emotional resources on things I cannot change.
Another irony, huh? That despite all the exhausting almost terrifying moments the last few years, I never took to my blog in an ache for surrender. I wait for a big win instead. LOL Ohhh I'm sure my critics will add this to the fodder as well. ~middle finger salute~ What they fail to understand is that I'm a fucking survivor. I don't crumble in crisis...I bear down and make it through. Besides, while the pandemic was brutal and traumatizing here in NYC, it was not nearly the worst I've been through. Naaaa...my personal hell was much much worse and lasted much much longer.
Have you noticed? I'm avoiding the issue. ~growl~
If only I could kneel at His feet and rest my head at the tips of his shoes. To settle. To surrender. To give up all of this energy and all of myself to Him...for a moment. The sheer utter spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical relief it would bring me. To feel His hand run through my hair to capture the nape of my neck would be heaven. To hear His quiet praise, "You did well tonight, my lioness. I am proud," would shatter me into a thousand pieces like nothing else and set me free.
~sigh~ There. The words were typed. My vulnerability admitted. There. The tiniest of pinpricks allows my pent up energy to move again, a crawling, heavy, maple syrup drip...drip...drip. I'll be able to sleep soon. I can already feel the pressure easing.
There's no Him in the "unowned property" status of my world, but still in the deepest depths of my soul I still hold space for Him. Maybe...if I'm lucky, He'll find His way to me. For now it was simply enough to acknowledge His awaiting throne in my slaveheart.
~DominaKat
P.S. Proper acknowledgements soon for those who gave their time, energy, and feedback this evening. I am truly blessed.
P.P.S. Raw...unedited...don't give a fuck.
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