Zen masocattin. thoughts on power.

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.

On Naked blogging.

No, I am not speaking of blogging in the nude, although, I am sure that even as I write this there is a new fetish group forming somewhere .

I’m thinking about how NAKED the act of blogging is..

there you are , often in all your madhouse glory, giddy moments exposed, idiotic inane moral outrages for all to see..

inviting others into the ramble jam of your mind.

Some minds are pure marmalade.

Delightful, entertaining, arousing, provocative..

In the culture of the blog, tho we run the risk of becoming redundant to our virtual selves…

You can dig and dive for what we call fact or truth in other’s blogs..but the blogs I enjoy most touch these places, they do not stand in for them.

Those sorts of bloggers, blogging nakedly are more about revealing the rainbow than what we in this relevation hungry society pass for fact.

See my colors, discern them.

But do not think you KNOW me..

We are fluid , in process, behind all these portals is flesh and blood striving for air and hurtling towards death.

What a madhouse of mirrors the art of blogging is.

Narcissism flagellating itself to a bloody pulp of fiction and some version of reality.

Enjoy, taste, bite..be moved, move..

but never lose sight that the whole is greater than the sums..

a naked blogger, I..was it good for you?

it was good for me.

Now if I could just find my clothes and get out of here,

Laughing.

cat

Balance in all things..Body and Mind, or self correction will force the gasp.

What is it about the power of the image/ although I am an artist with the word,

I am drawn to self expression thru multi media..some photos are pure visceral poetry in and of themselves.

In my study of myself as object..I see something attempting to break  out, to break free.

Motion, E/motion/in  motion..

I am as carnal and embodied as I am cerebral..

I have become unbalanced …physical poetry , my body and the body of others as canvas can no longer not be twinned in my search to self express.

monstrous this captivity.

self imposed and waning..

there is pain and there is joy in the incarnated form. I  am not all mind.

Butterfly, I.

Pinned. Exhibit F.

Fuck that.

I long to dance.

poecatt

See me, feel me, touch me, heal me..

from Tommy/the Who

Deadly this catatonic speechless insomnia of the body self.

Van the man, feed me.

Listening to Van Morrison this morning..his happy songs..

I have always loved wavelength.

brought back some 25 years to a moment in time, a sunshafted morning, tune wavelength blasting out of the speakers, I was living with a group of other university students, a big old house downtown, half of us lovers,…a strange bohemian mix of jetsam and flotsam,
and this tune …I walked away into the dining room, as everyone and all our cats were eating breakfast..and began to dance in the light shining down on the hardwood floor,

my friends and my lover looked up, watched in silence, smiling, ah , that’s just *cat*, let her be..
it was a happy sweet spot in time for all of us..barefoot and full of the promise of youth..

poetry and philosophy spilling everywhere..

and then several years later, another moment, morning, taking a bath in our downtown home, my newborn baby on a towel on the floor , cooing, kicking, multicolored stained glass play on the walls, the mirror reflecting back pure joy..

these travellers have long gone from my life, my first college live in lover, and yes, my baby..

wavelength..bring the sun back, van..I am so hungry for it.

And yeah, I will dance barefoot, free form..revel
just because..the dance goes on..

Now blasting brown eyed girl..take that you miserable neighbors..
cat

Sunflowers, shades and light.

I had so much fun with this photo.  All the colors , the texture,  the fact that I was at the comp writing and stopped to snap it.

Photos are just a moment in time and light..but it spoke to me of play and joy and happiness of just creating.

Re reading Eckhart Tolle’s powerful little book  ” The Power of Now ” lately.

Frustrated that tho I get it, it seems elusive at times.

I want the world to break in..or I want to break out.

So many possibilities in the moment, the matrix.

I am most at peace when in the NOW.

I crave color, I crave sensation, I crave throwing off the dark cloak of winter , the blacks and the grays that have choked me.

2 years ago, I was on Salt Spring Island, taking in the sights and the wonderful impressions. I was working in a little cafe.

The situation was not perfect..what is perfection, but the change was feeding the artist in my soul.

I crave change . I’ve been cloistered and cloaked, of my own doing..crawled up my own behind.

Like the sunflower, I want to turn my face to the sun, but somedays..I am just not so sure where that is..

Life will not be stopped, it’s impetus is forward..sunseeking,

shades and knapsacking,

cat

Icarus/ing and the problem with wax.

You know the myth of Icarus..he flew to close to the sun..

sometimes, sometimes,  i am just icarus/ ing you know

dove flung/ wanna hit that hi

note

not to self immolate on some

industrial wasteland’s

keep out hi voltage

sign

i’ve no death wish

just for joy, joy, joy.

ass over teakettle

helterskeltering

wax wings and

all.

cat

Deconstruction of my Cunt.The making of a submissive.

You are a cunt.
Yess.
Laughing.
As in ” Oops, Sorry,I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings..I was aiming for your balls.”
Not my quote, but I love it..
Seriously..said as kitten rolls around the floor in a small wickedly self indulgent fit..

I have been thinking lately about the things that have gone into the “making of my cunt.”
My submissive little cunt.
It always fascinates me when people share with me..male and female..and all shades between..O! our cursed binary system..
reflections on the SEMINAL moments in their
erotic histories.
We all carry them..moments that we take to our graves..innocent, harsh, bittersweet, mindblowing..completely individual and idiosyncratic moments that somehow shaped and defined who you are.
I recall one such moment that hinted of things to come. No pun.It was the first time..ah..when someone said “good girl” to me.
Beleive it or not, I recall such a powerful and immediate reaction that what I almost said out loud..(Thankfully I could not..laughing here..I was restrained from speaking….)
“Excuse me?”
It was such a visceral shock..such a hi..I did not have time to processs..but every little synaptic connection fired on overtime..
I knew something was happening..
Smiles.
It fascinates me ..what shapes us..it remains enigmatic..I don’t like to overly analyse these things..
but I do like to ponder them. I was sharing with someone the other day how when 18 and living far from home, one sultry hot evening I entered a repetory theatre..simply for the air conditioning..and wound up blown away by Marlon Brando’s performance in Last Tango in Paris.
I recall frowning at the screen, dumbstruck by his character’s journey..his intense need for a nameless encounter while mourning the suicide of his wife, and how, despite himself and his blunt edged cruelty..he falls in love.
Even at that age, I had a keen awareness of the dragon we carry inside..the magic, the pain, the wonder and the sublimely rediculous thing that is our sexuality.
Somehow I think we dont’t pay homage enough to the mystery when we label ourselves too neatly..if we are open..it is a mystery we carry a lifetime.
My grandmother ..god love her..is in her nineties, a tiny evil cackling little thing who still lusts..sigh..I see my future..
Soaking up what ever rays I can find..

cat

What is Dominance in D/s?

What is Dominance in D/s…

Voice, that calm quiet, assured voice.

Sometimes a low growl.

Lack of faltering, command.

No hesitation.

Centered.

An alert yet almost lazy quality.

Absolute lack of emo.

No need to put others down.

Knows oneself, reflects.

Zero drama.

Absorbed in what is at hand.

The still inside the storm.

Laughter in pleasure.

Does not react into defensiveness.

Secure enough to grow and learn from the exchange with the submissive.

Patience.

Discipline as a response not a reaction.

Gentle, not embarrassed to cherish or love.

Firm about..Do it NOW.

Does not need a perfect body in the other or themselves.

Masculinity( in a male Dom, or feminity in a female Domme , that develops   with age, not diminishes…

Adores the feminine in a woman..

Even when “whipping”  is “holding.”

Can talk the submissive raw with their quiet words.

In their mouths, the words, cunt , bitch, whore, slut, toy

become ecstatic codes.

Hands,  tools,  looks, become forms of the “way.”

I think this intensifies, this knowledge with age.

Finding one’s place in the world, does not NEED external measures of success or validation.

Is master of the self.

Excessive emo, wanton violence,the need to be always in the spotlight

…all seem kind of menstrual to me

and a turnoff , a kind of sharp left turn from

what I consider Dominance to be.

God, as a female submissive to a male Dominant, I love the maleness, the

forearms, the throat, the deeper voice, the male laughter…my Dominant’s

lazy laughter…

a man not in a hurry, who knows he will get there…

just some thoughts from the cat

What is Dominance to you?

Mind is the hottest toy in D/s and Bdsm.

Mind is the hottest toy in Bdsm.

Bodies are fascinating, the mind is the fire zone. Beauty without brain is interesting aesthetically, but once one engages with another, it is the mind that is the aesthetic cauldron, the cog catching and rolling with cog.

Resonance. I  have written about this before. Resonance  requires attuning to each other’s energies, all senses are sharpened and alert, one attends to that which fascinates, or that which one cherishes.

We take a deep interest in very few other beings. Those that fully engage us , engage us in their uniqueness to us, their singularities.

One senses and is drawn to the essence of the other, not the surface, and if mutual, the two begin to attend together.

This cannot be done if it is not mutual. Mind must touch mind, mind touching mind as I say must contain flickers of the gamut of human emotions…one can touch the mind of another profoundly without ever touching their body.

I believe like minds call to one another..the affinities may not be visible, but they are there under the layers of the corporeal or embodied.

Mind is the hottest toy..to engage solely on the level of bodily aesthetic will ultimately leave one dissatisfied.

cat

What is more sexy than a spirit of play?

What’s more sexy than a spirit of play?

An openess to seize the opportunity in a crowded day and with the most innocuous of remarks ignite your lover’s imagination?

A verbal sparring intellectually that leads to laughter, that leads to, well, the sudden desire to fuck..

Something secretive, a glance exchanged between two, a question mark, an opening to the shading of mood into the seductive?

A change in tone, oh so quiet, the whisper, out of context , but jarring to the cunt and cock?

The moment alone together in the bathroom, a hand on the nape of the neck, a shared cueing to the moment?

What is damning?

Coldness.

Indifference.

Boxes.

Failure of the imagination.

If you want to kill something , freeze it to death.

Ignore and avoid opportunity.

Turn a blind eye.

Disown.

Disengage.

Maim it with uptightness, and rigidity.

I’ll take a spirit of play, which does require intelligence , imagination and an openess to life any day over

dogged seriousness and dramatic grandstanding on nothing but bullshit.

Drama kings and drama queens drive me bananas. god, I love to laugh.

Life is serious enough, play is heartart, and not optional in my choice of friends and lovers..

cat.

play, out of such freedom springs art and the new..

I may be odd in this but I do not do my best creating out of misery, but out of play. When I get too serious I wanna be knocked out. Seriously.

There’s a time and place for everything, and and I can wax serious with the best of them, but play is not optional. There is enough coldness and tragic that will happen unbidden, why add? Be very conscious of the choices you make..to stay vibrant and alive you need to add laughter and play to the tears and drudgery.

Shared laughter, shared intimacy feeds the soul.