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The 9 Service Languages | Intensive Session Wrap Up Thoughts

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On Sunday, I wrapped up my first small group FULL INTENSIVE workshop that spanned 6+ hours over the course of 2 days. Anyone who has sat through my Intro class knows, The 9 Service Languages is a fucking BIG IDEA! When I first launched my class, I naively believed it could be tackled in a typical 90-minute or 2-hour session. I quickly learned that was impossible and that few platforms (cons, orgs, mtgs) had the ability to hold space for me and attendees to get DEEP in the weeds of WIITWD as it relates to Service. I am PROFOUNDLY HONORED that @S-O-C—the Service Oriented Conference—reached out to me earlier this year to be a part of their inaugural Intensive Program. They were the perfect partner with the perfect target audience for an Intensive of The 9 Service Languages of Authority Transfer Relationships/Dynamics. The session allowed me to work with a small group as we got our hands dirty, dissecting where, when, how, and why we do Service and considered ways to adjust, tweak, evol...
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His Claim

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Another unexpected storm. This one a direct hit to my soul.  Neither of us were prepared for the morning to unleash a flood of inescapable no-win situations.  The turbulent winds of colliding actions and words battered the roots of my being, chipping away at my belief that solutions can be found if intent is authentic and forcing me to face a possible truth I didn’t want to see. Suddenly I was drowning in doubt.  Past experiences dragged me deeper and deeper into their haunting grip.  Maybe…no matter what I did, I would never be enough.  Maybe what I gave wasn't good enough.  That parts of me weren’t worthy of nurturing or exploration. That fundamental pieces of me would always be ignored and rejected because I just...couldn’t...inspire.   As quickly as the storm arrived, the wind, rain, and lightening ended, yet the chaos in its wake left me shaken to my core.  I was no longer sure what would be left intact once the sun rose again. ...
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The Drops

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When He sends me back to the world I once considered my norm, it’s never pretty. I drop into fuckin savagery. Whether for a day or two or three, the civilized protocols and service I embrace when I'm with Him fall away as primal survival skills and a rudimentary existence rise once again to the surface. Last time the incessant eye twitch was the wake-up call that snapped me out of my relentless focus of the concrete path in front of me.  For hours I'd battled the mental and physical churn of Midtown's Friday rush hour madness, trying to accomplish my tasks, but the warning at my brow eventually registered, and I paused on the dark sidewalk amid the unending noise and flow of humanity to assess my body. My head throbbed. My breathing was shallow. Tension I used to carry daily but had forgotten about during the last few months had seeped into my shoulders and crawled up my neck. My hips, relaxed and at ease just that morning in His cave, now ached and begged to stretch in s...
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The Compersion of An Unruly Whore

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It didn't matter that my whore had been in time-out, curled in a ball, mute, and non-responsive for two months. It didn't matter that I had no way of managing her urges and cravings, so I'd shoved her in a cage with multiple padlocks and starved her dumb ass. It didn't matter that I didn't trust her to meet expectation or control her aggressiveness.  It didn't matter that He'd shown no need for her shenanigans.  As He kissed me good-bye and shut the door of the truck, my whore woke with a vengence—wide-eyed and panting—from her self-imposed retreat, howling in her cage, begging to be released from confinement. My fingers trembled, and I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, trying in vain to focus on my next stop and the list of tasks I needed to complete.  Though absolute pure joy flowed through me at the thought of His pleasure and happiness, I fought the unexpected tsunami of electric sexual energy that roared in my veins.   I couldn’t catch my breath....
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Enough is Enough | To Take Root

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I find myself in unfamiliar territory.  This whole...actually being led thing.   Not in the bedroom. Not in some kinky-fuckery. Not in a litany of "Yes, Sir.  May I, Sir?" protocols. Not in put-on-a-sexy-dress. Not in oh-bring-me-food. Don't get me wrong... He does lead me in those ways.  Well... most anyway.  I'm not sure he even cares what I wear. lol  Those common leadership tactics are all ones I have experience in and can manage (on most days) to follow without stumbling or making an ass of myself.  On rare occasions, I might even succeed with some measure of grace.   The unfamiliar territory I mean is plain old Real Life—an area no one has dared try to lead me for... decades.  That was never what partners and I was doin.  They didn't have a Vision, the Desire, the Wisdom, the Strength, or the damn Authority to Guide, Nurture, Protect, let alone make Decisions that would have real world consequences regarding how I li...
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The Embers

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I knew from the beginning we could be amazing, but every time we take a step or a leap forward, I'm a little in awe of what I find. The calm, steady, and the quiet of Him... holds me in a way I've never felt.  Solid, secure, grounded deep in the Earth like a mighty sequoia, yet there's an indescribable freedom and flow and lightness that let's me dance with butterflies and moonbeams.    The joy of light and laughter... took my breath away and filled me to overflowing.  The doors and cabinets and hidden nooks willingly opened to see deeper.  Long walks on the beach.  Playful teasing.  Hands held.  Smiles and hugs and kisses.  All of it...Pure magic and wonder. The bliss of physical work, logical collaboration, and addicting progress... my bones, my muscles, my pores, my soul drank it all in after being starved so long from the purpose and act of doing.  I can't even explain...it's that trusted North Star—His Vision and Direction—that fuel...
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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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The Edge of His Darkness

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It’s 3am. I should be unconscious, earning another two or three face creases from sleeping soundly on His t-shirt, but in the shadows and silence and blessed fuckin stillness, I selfishly steal the time from my pile of obligations to travel back to our last night, our last morning, and just savor the memories.  Words, images, moments flicker through my mind.  Until I settle there.  That.  I hit replay and replay and replay. Fuck. What He did to me….   What I can’t even bring myself to fuckin type.  Even here. No one has dared.  Except Him.  Except Him.  Except Him. Looking back, I see clearly the presence I had felt.  It was there.  In the look carved on His face.  The edge of a Darkness that He holds tightly at bay had come to watch me.  Somehow... after so long... I had caught His interest again.   I met His gaze without fear, and His vicious response was absolute. There was no warning.   No pre...
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