Posts Tagged ‘grief’

Zen masocattin. thoughts on power.

In D/s, Bdsm, Philosophy..sociological commentary on May 4, 2009 at 9:50 am

I was thinking this morning about my grandparents.

I have one surviving grandparent at this time, but all four left an indelible mark on the shaping of my character and choices…

Watching the unfolding of their lives as a child..seeking sanctuary in both homes at various times in childhood, I was blessed by both the striking lessons in the choices they made and gifted to watch the outcomes of their thought and action.

They all had all too common and harsh upbringings.

However the choices they made in adulthood, and the impact their unions as couples had on the family and community around them was rife with food for reflection.

One couple lived well into their late nineties, grew closer and closer to the light as they aged, their skin becoming luminescent ..parchment to some essence that graced those who were to cross the portal into their humble little home.

They were simple celtic folk, deeply bound to one another and the land, and family, a life carved deeper and deeper each year like the rings in the cross section of an old oak,

The rituals of morning and evening prayer, an ethic of treating well all passers by who broached their porch, and though they dispensed no graphic wisdom or advice, people left somehow larger, calmer, the edges smoothed, with a smile…

LIGHTENED by the increasing lightness and dignity and laughter of these two.

The other couple were caught in a bind as well, forged not by grace and acceptance of one another and family, but by hate, violence and pain.

The legacy lives on in both families lives, and to me is an awesome example of how every life has the amazing ability, the POWER ..no need for money or worldly power, but something deeper and stronger than all that..to create or destroy.

Every single one of us creates heaven and hell here on earth.
By our moment to moment choices, and behind the choices, moment to moment thought.

We ARE as fallen Gods and if the power of what is called god is the power to create, we miscomprehend how very charged and lethal OR life giving our lives as sign posts and actual lived versions of the ‘way ” are.

There is power in each of us, regardless of circumstances..stellar power, rife with significance.

We do not have to strive so hard to be “somebody”.

We are Somebody.

Right here, Right now. Whether in the ghetto, or on the hill..

Our power, is equal.

We assign godliness to our leaders as we equate them with power.

Those public and “out there” those that show their ‘surface’ to the many.

Heroes and heroines walk among us every moment, often seemingly invisible.

You and I are as gods..in our power to create anew , in our choices every moment..to bring hate and violence or peace, grace and laughter.

I know life is tough…

As the buddhists say..the first rule is “Life is suffering’

breathe that in. breathe it out. move thru it.

Accept this, chill, know your own divinity..smile, pause and
rock someone else’s world today with the grace that is you.

and let them rock you back….

does not have to be a Led Zeppelin dirge..it can be as quiet as just creating the space for another to be, in your prescence, quiet and witnessed.

Morning thoughts from cat, the zenmasocat.
big smiles.
have a great one.


You Don’t need to Go looking for a Zen Master. He’s here, he is Now.

In 1, My journal, Philosophy..sociological commentary on March 29, 2009 at 3:03 pm

You don’t need to go looking for a Zen master.

I have been thinking about this recently. The Zen master is here now, it is in all phenomena that looms up in your world, both within and without.The Zen master lives on that line between reaction and response. The Pause.

I have been thinking about this recently because one, I’m given to weird flights of thought to begin with..and two, I was surfing thru  D’s amazing blog the other day and came across a post, which apologies, I cannot seem to find again,
wherein he talks about his now passed on grandmother’s, (I believe it was his grandmother, again I stand to be humbly corrected)

phrase that
“the Dead don’t grieve that we know of.”

Well, that kind of jumped out at me, and has been whirling around percolating ever since…
Do the Dead grieve?
Do they have moments of nostalgia?
All nostalgia and futuritus..some of us are more orientated to one affliction the more so than the other, but basically it all seems to stem from one great cosmic loin you know, LONGING,desire..anything that prevents us from being right here, right now.
Present and accounted for.
How many of us could say that we are truly present and accounted for moment to moment? That we are not addicted to nostalgiks or consumed by futuritus?

I want to learn to be in the now.OMG, I see so much craziness both within myself and others..from not being able to tolerate and have the peace of the now. To be unable to face what is in your face.

I was thinking lately how I wanted a mentor, I’ve had various formal mentors of varying stripes over my lifetime..and it has hit me in the past two days

that everybody and everything and every thought and feeling that comes my way is my mentor if I let it be.

The good, the bad, and the ugly.

that when I set anyone up to be my teacher above me, they are bound to fall eventually.

That the teacher is everybody and everywhere, a thousand faces, whatever shows up on my dashboard . The teacher is my reaction to it.

The teachable moment, when I put my weapons down, really and truly and let others be in my life as they are, and let myself be , moment to moment with THAT. How I am, how they are. Simple.

We are never going to escape emotion, and who would want to, it’s part of the human experience, we are not going to escape attachment and longing this side of the veil, and who knows if we even escape it the other side of the veil, as Doc’s statement ends..
” the Dead don’t grieve , THAT WE KNOW OF..”

What if they do grieve, what if they watch us and grieve for our pain, our convoluted webs, and the rain is simply their big fat tears of grief for us, washing our faces clean?

I don’t know. I don’t know if or where or how it stops..

I was thinking this morning about the most beautiful surroundings I found myself in a few years back when a couple living on the edges of the Old growth Cathedral forest in this renovated amazing trailer, renting it for a steal,invited me to spend some time there with them, and they were too strung always on drugs to really drink in the beauty around them,

and I would get up in the mornings and wander onto the wrap around deck and listen to the songbirds and want so badly to have a place like that for myself,

uncomprehending why they would medicate something, some old pain, whatever, we all carry it, so far out of them so as to not be in this awesome place.

The awesome place is the Now.

Of course I had an awesome teacher. I had a child who journeyed a full ten and a half years with me, both of us I believe with the full awareness that he could die at any moment,

and you know that was the thing I feared the most, and then finally one day it happened.

And I am still here.

Oh my God, I loved that child like I have never loved before or since. All I had was the now, and the now was sometimes godawful and sometimes pure rhapsody. But mostly just gift.

Maybe when I long and slip the bounds of the Now, in whatever situation, with whatever phenomena, or in whosever’s company..whenever I want something to be other than the way it is..not overall, but right here , right now, when I resist, maybe he does grieve for me.

And says, oh mama, you haven’t learned the lesson yet.His heart breaking…

I was thinking about how all was the now for him this morning, I was remembering him,he was almost blind, so everything was sound, and you could not creep up on that child on long shag carpet.

His head would turn and breathing shift almost imperceptibly..he would be attending to the moment.

I recalled the pain of leaving his hospital room late at night, when he was in, as he often was, and I would never creep out on him, I would always tell him I was going..

and then as I backed out of the room, my heart pounding I would watch his little face, listening, listening.

The Now was all he and I had.

He didn’t tell me he was going when he left for good..or maybe he just told me his whole life..

All I am trying to say this morning, is , stop trying so hard to live in nostalgia or the future, be right here now, now is the zen master, stop struggling so hard to conform everybody and everything to your will..let it all be..let them be, for god’s sake, let yourself be once in a while..

Everything and everybody is the Zen master, when you just let it be…

Not to be confused with complacency or hopelessness..no not at all. I fought for my son’s life the entire time he was with me.
Maybe he fights for mine now.

of course this could all be brought to you by a case of food poisoning I have from gleefully consuming a sushi salmon roll yesterday. WTF knows. or that I have reacted into several things in my own world in the past 48 and been less than ohmed out about them. 🙂

kata karma, rock on

love cat

Abuse dynamics/ D/s dynamics..

In D/s, Bdsm, My journal on March 25, 2009 at 10:12 am

Still stormed in here.
Almost a week into the official arrival of spring and I have been scrambling thru white out conditions to get to the corner store.

I’m thinking back this morning to where I was a couple of years ago to this date. In a shelter, a couple of days arrival into a city I had been transported to for reasons of safety. A city that was awash in cherry blossom petals, they paved the streets…

In a shelter for women and children leaving abusive relationships, shocking to me because I had been an abuse counsellor for over a decade prior to this relationship.
Mute, traumatized, and undone. The relationship only lasted six months prior to my leavetaking, but I began a process of coming to terms with how it all went down to begin with.
In retrospect, I believe it could only happen because of the situation I found myself in, far from my home..and the life timing..

When I met the person who was to become so monstrous, I was actively grieving an enormous life loss, and as all cons do, this person knew how to work that vulnerability.
It’s a black hole, almost surreal, in my personal life story..but there is a message I want to speak to..

Anyone, regardless of who you think you are, can find themselves in this sort of mess, the shame is not in landing there,what is pivitol is the pride one should take and awareness that one has the skills to get out.

As I arrived there, as many do, without a thing to my name, I was given a voucher for 100 dollars for clothing and personals..
at a connected thrift operation.
I recall the pain and confusion as I, a woman who had been independent, so very independent in many ways all my adult life, went to pick out a sweater to wear around the city in the spring weather.
Reconnecting to my sense of selfhood, oh, I like this fabric, that cut,I deserve this.
It was horrendously difficult, I had lost my “I”.

My partner,I really do NOT know what to call him,had a very dominant personality, despite not being a Dominant, he employed all the same mind fuks ect, but without limits and ethics that exist in a healthy D/s relationship..his motives were pathological.

In D/s there is a certain amount of loss of self that is given over in trust..by the submissive..and that is why the ethics and borders, and mutual respect are crucial.

I believe that as a submissive, it is integral that I have and experience a strong sense of the “I’, as my touchstone , while experiencing the loss of the “I’ that is part of the gift of submission.

Submissives need to hold each other up in this, Dominants need to negotiate and be aware of selfhood issues for those they take on.

I know some may feel differently on this..but whether it is submission or slave status,how can one give what one does not have?

If you do not have a “self” you cannot employ it in the service of another or yourself.

Abuse belittles and destroys the self …in a healthy D/s dynamic the self is given a container within which to grow.

I will  be continuing my thoughts on this in the next post.

Hope your week is going well, cherry blossom petals on my mind while I listen to the crooning foghorn and watch the dovegreyed skies, shaking out flakes , as we say here, the old one brushes with her broom..hopefully but not likely the last touch of winter.

On love, loss and the friends that return.

In D/s, Bdsm on March 14, 2009 at 6:23 pm

When all is said and done, it’s often friendship that trumps love, obsession and the other trailing compulsivities that draw us to another.

Friendship has its own soulfulness, does not require similar temperaments and each often brings an ungainly difference in oneself to the meeting ground.

While we often feel driven to get closer to the merge point with the object of an erotic or romantic craving,( I mean, honestly..when was the last time you wanted to MERGE with a friend) friendship asks that we reveal ourselves, our soulfulness as it were in shared humor, acceptance, and leeway for gliches.

Theres a thing that takes over in the initial stages of erotic attraction..the Want..foregrounding all subtext..online or off.

The older one becomes it seems the more so we expect, even require friendship as handmaiden to our couplings..and the mastering of this is a tricky tango.
The soul tho could care less.It will drive us down to our knees for the taste of its darker appetites in ways that would render us unrecognizable to family and friends.
Family , friends, lovers all come with their own separate pathologies…
For me, when a lover has also been a friend and that has been deeply felt, the loss is the hardest.

I’ve learned a certain detachment to loss, as it were, over the years having been iniated, sceaming into some of the roughest types…I am not speaking of the erotic here, but the lesson transferred.

Embrace, and embrace Deeply..but also, learn the Grace in letting Go.

Just some thoughts, Cat

The Ramblings of Insomnia, Memory and Choice..

In D/s, Bdsm, prose on March 13, 2009 at 6:58 pm
Damn the insomnia. I’ve nearly gone out of my mind with it tonight.This is a time of transitions and the vessel is not empty.I long for some time in the country alone…complete solitude from which to map my location.

There is so much happening, mostly subterranean, but that is when the most fertile breakthroughs loom close by.

…altho those sweet pink cuffs beckon…alt. is a smorgasboard of choice, complete with mouth watering options…and as Clarissa Pinkola Estes states in her book Women who run with the Wolves, one CANNOT choose a lover from the smorgasboard one must choose alover from soul hunger…something far more primal than simple enticement.

I think I have always chosen my lovers from soul hunger ..and the war paint with which I cloak my wounds is simply attitude bandaging scars. These scars are still mine dammit..they speak of the courage to risk.

Shackling my ankles and wrists is relatively easy..shackling my heart..ah now theres the vision quest…
Insomnia, babi..it gets cold where I live at four in the morning. I sit smoking a cigarette, the only point of light in the night.

Trail to the bathroom , look in the mirror, the ghosts of past lovers, friends, appearing beside me. Go away, I’m NOT laughing.Rest.
But these visions we all carry. They are part of OUR stories.

They are where we have been.
Absolutely I covet those pretty pink cuffs and the pretty pink collar but ultimately I covet more the real and flawed man who will gift me with them.

It may not come to pass. I had the occasion to supper with a beloved relation of mine tonight, I had not seen her in 4 years, she is turning 90 and catching a flight tomorrow to an almost certain death before I see her face again. I held her tiny body, felt her enormous strength of self, grown more luminescent with each year.

Her face was remarkable in its beauty…she has outlived 3 husbands and numerous lovers.
Raised a small country of step children.
Still travels the world with aplomb..get outta my way..I will carry my own bags!
I so love this woman!

I thank  J..you know who you are..for this jewel..kinks just groovy and all, but it really would be nice to wake up with someone in the morning….

Insomniacal ramblings. But desicions made.
Breathing easier, dawns afoot in my hood and it is time for a walk.
If you got this far, namaste, I am certain I will be back to edit this..
Chastened and subdued,and VERY very quiet,


How to survive a D/s breakup

In D/s, Bdsm on March 13, 2009 at 12:58 pm

A friend here…I won’t name names/I Do have some sense of discretion..if not as
regards myself at least as regards others…
emailed and asked me if I was pining for someone in my past.

The answer is No. However.
I did go thru about 4 weeks of some sort of emotional spasm after a particularly savage breakup in the past year. I’m not certain if the words pine or even grieve apply.

To what I did.
More like MOLT..as in shed my skin like a snake….I went thru what can only be likened to the DT’s..it being my first D/s relationship..the post breakup was nothing if not
overwhelmingly physical.

I alarmed the crap out of friends who
knew nothing of the D/s aspects of the
relationship. A well meaning girlfriend
wordlessly shoved a copy of Eckhart Tolle’s
” The Power of Now” (too funny)
into my mailbox
and Tolle’s words kept me grounded
in between vomiting.
Unfortunately I will never be able to pick
up Tolle again..Even looking at the
cover triggers a Pavlovian gag response.

I have never vomited over a man
in my life, and there I was
feeling as if the hounds from hell
were tearing my limbs asunder.
My skin was on fire.

My apartment almost. I left the burners
on over and over, I forgot garbage day
two weeks in a row, and I let the phone
ring for three weeks straight.

I made several of those early A.M
phone calls to people I knew from
across the country…you know those
calls..the ones where you wish to god
someone had bound and gagged you first.

I even ,in drunken confusion one night,
dialed the local crisis line and tearfully
recounted how desperately I missed
being slapped, spanked and choked..

I attempted to describe “subspace”
whereupon I think she began to suspect
I was on crack……

I’m not certain who was in the greater
state by the end of the call..altho
smirk..I’m certain I gave the bitch
something to think about..as she
awkwardly signed off with a mumbled
“Good Luck with That..”

( Damn there should be a Bdsm hotline.)

One morning I woke up and
I was over it.
I had literally and efficiently
exorcized him from my body.

The fact that I did not resist the pain
I’m sure had alot to do with it.

But as I get older I have found that
to be true of anything.
Don’t just FEEL it, BE it.

And the ashes will burn themselves to
the ground, if not everything else
around you.
And you will be free.

Go on. Get Over It.