Submission and safewording to the universe

I was thinking the other night, about my vague and unrealized interests in BDSM and started wondering, as Thene once asked, how much of that was curiosity and how much of that was genuine interest.

In the end, does it matter? Maybe, maybe not. Because let’s go slightly past the flesh and think about what it means when taken to its logical conclusion.

The thing is, it’s a beautiful thought. Or can be.

The ideal is theoretically someone who both takes control of you and is yet in service to you. Someone who knows your hard limits, cares enough to push you just enough past the point to ecstasy without harming you, someone who has to pay close and careful attention to your every shudder, every whimper, every flinch, so that they may best gauge how to serve your needs and desires. Someone who knows what you like and is committed to giving it to you, perhaps giving just a little too much, to take you beyond the edge into sweet oblivion, but with a net to catch you and bring you safely home again.

And if you move into the other aspects of domination and submission, the idea of someone committed to helping you be a better, purer version of yourself. Discipline when needed, praised when warranted, and of course, above all, someone who is completely all about you and your journey into that sweet place where you can think of nothing at all, close your eyes and simply be.

It’s a beautiful thought.

The reality, of course, is questionable.

Extended to its logical (?) conclusion, I started thinking about the universe as the ultimate Dom.

Saturn, Lord of Time, Master of Karma. Pluto, Lord of Death, the Underworld, intuition itself, king of insight. The Destroyer. These forces in service to the Universe and to us.

Of course, all of this is by nature spoken from a position of privilege. Enough privilege that I’m not sure how far or how deep this analogy can go before I start twitching. Much like my discomfort with the privilege inherent in the notion of laws of attraction and the thought of people choosing every single thing that happens to them. The idea of Earth as a school is all fun and games until you really start taking a good hard look at what is happening in certain places of the globe. Yes, let’s carry everything to its logical extension, but by golly, I don’t need to be comfortable with it.

But let’s talk about the fantasy, shall we? Sometimes the only way to explore a concept is in isolation and in the best possible circumstances. Kind of like trying to pin down a quantum…?

Dare I say yes? (but I already have, because clearly I’m here and not dead)

And what is my safeword? (scene-ending. session-ending.  =Death?)

And what is happening as correction and therefore cannot be safe-worded out of versus something that is meant for the experience and can be? (do we see my intense discomfort with connecting non-safe-wordable-shit as “correction”? here is where the analogy goes to tatters for me.)

…wrenching the mind back to the perfect circumstances analogy schtick…

But, with that thought, there’s something liberating there. (snide voice: yes, there’s usually something liberating about privilege…)

If this entire thing is for my pleasure and my edification (theoretically) and everything goes only so far as I allow it to (still running up against that whole privilege thing…), then there is something supremely liberating about knowing there is a safeword there.

What is it anyway? Pondering.

Safeword out of the dysfunction part of my relationship with my parents.

Safeword out of the relationship that wasn’t working anymore.

The correction bit regarding my health that I haven’t been able to safeword out of yet.

….

The thing is, it’s a novel thought for the most part – the ability to say no.

Yes, you’re allowed to change. Yes, just because something was this way for a longest time doesn’t mean that it needs to be eternally that way. Yes, you’re allowed to move on. Yes, you’re allowed to tell someone that what they’re doing is hurting you.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

And the flip side of that, of course, is: no.

No to being put on the spot for extra emotional labor.

No to saying yes to authority just because.

No to staying in relationships where I’m not a priority.

No to people who just aren’t that into me.

No. No. No.

If I believe. If I allow myself to believe. (hard, really, again with the tattered analogy)

Then I can believe that most things happen for a reason. I can believe that I allowed most of the things in my life to happen to me. I can believe that these experiences were perhaps necessary, that perhaps I needed them to grow into myself.

Perhaps I could have learned an easier way. A better way.

Perhaps I can console myself that it would have been a slower way.

Perhaps I can console myself that I might not have learned anyway because I’m terribly stubborn.

But if I allow myself to believe.

Then I can believe in safewords, in the ultimate grace of a Universe that is watching and won’t give me more than I can stand, in my ability to take and stretch and bend and submit and finally break out of myself into something purer.

Maybe.

Maybe I believe in fairy tales.

 

 

 

One Response to “Submission and safewording to the universe”

  1. thene

    Hagbard Celine’s superweapon – the ability to say ‘no’ and take the consequences.

    I struggle with some facets of it too. It can veer into victim-blaming, especially when you’re talking about events during childhood. But I also sometimes want to shake people and say that you CAN stop playing along if you don’t like playing along? The world won’t end if you quit wearing makeup or painful shoes, trust me, and if you keep doing those things without enjoyment in them, you can’t blame the patriarchy for how you feel. Agency, use it.

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