(no subject)

Sir's father, who is a doctor, advised Sir to try sleeping on the floor, to see if that didn't help his back. I made up a pallet of blankets, and somewhat to his surprise, slept there with him. Er...Tried to. When Sir sleeps on his back he snores quite loudly, and his breathing gets erratic. Not a good formula for sleep. I *hurt*, all over. I make a lot of noice when I move, which is kind of amusing - Jade, The Human Rice Krispie.

Thinking about the responses I've gotten (thank you) to my last entry. Reading others be so patient and logical with my stubbornly illogical thought processes has me on a fairly good loop, and I think I may be able to figure a way out of this idiotic track I'm on.

It's all about guilt and self-worth issues, both of which I have in abundance, about having to be superhuman in order to be worthy of anything at all, etc., etc. It's also about putting fairly arbitrary values on different types of service,as well. Having been in dance for years, I know full well it's just as much work, if not more, than a full load of housework. For some reason there's more value in what I *don't* enjoy.....My martyrdom thing again. Sigh. Jade, Jade, honeychild, this is Not Skillful(TM).

I think I'm going to be able to tear the false construction down....Cool.

Jade

(no subject)

Sir's parents 40th anniversary is next weekend, and they're having a *huge* 'do' for it. About 40-odd guests in a rather posh place in Manhattan, all the trimmings. Whee. My parents are coming up on Thursday for it, but before then I promised Clare I'd do the calligraphy for 25 envelopes (they're giving out CD's as favors for the guests, I'm labeling them in Unical) Plus, the house has to be in 'guest shape', which for me is only a couple of steps down from "military inspection' shape.

I've been sick for a while (better now), and then just as I got well, Sir's back went out. I have a *huge* (well, to me, anyway) amount of catchup to do. Most of it is things like closets, dust bunnies under the furniture (sentient ones, I saw them chase the cats):), and a look of 'carelessness' about the place that grates on my nerves. For some reason, I'm feeling terribly overwhelmed by all I have to do - it should not be this hard to get caught up after an illness, and I'm convinced I'm making mountains out of molehills. However, it has inspired me to reorganize my schedule.
( Wherein Jade indulges in domesticity )

Still thinking about my earlier entries. There's a lot in my head about it, but I'm feeling more than a bit scattered right now, so it will keep.

Jade

"When you drop your tools and you stand alone..."

Still scattered regarding what I've been thinking about of late, but I might as well give a go of working it out as is, considering the schedule for the upcoming week I don't know when I'll 'unscatter".

The thought processes surrounding work, time and service really have nothing to do with Sir or Sir-and-I. Fundamentally, they're all about me. Trying to break it down, some of it comes from flawed perceptions, and my incredible talent of using things against myself, even the very things I have counseled people against for years, and the very things I've been accused of myself. In BDSM circles, as in any other 'subculture' there's a lot of debate over what a 'real' slave/submissive/whathaveyou is. The very basis of this concept is fundamentally flawed, simply because of the human limitations of language (Wittgenstien makes everything makes sense, yes he does). When I say 'table' for example, I have an image of a table in my mind, and to me that's what a table is. You, upon hearing me say 'table', form an image in your own mind of what a table is. These images are created by our experiences, and built upon by our perceptions. These two tables look nothing alike, and there's even a quite good chance that the 'table' in my mind looks like nothing you'd ever call a 'table'. Understanding that, how can such a loosely defined group of people decide/declare what a 'real' slave is?

Whoa, Jade. That was a bit of a tangent. Anyway, as flawed as the 'real' debate is, it's endemic, and quite hotly contested. It also creates a myriad of traps, and some of them are insidious. Hmm. Scattered. Now I'm having a hard time outlining the way this connects to my original thought process. Damn. Start over.

There's something buried very, very deep in here. I feel the emotional reaction against doing anything other than what that buried voice calls 'real work', but bringing that idea up into the light, it makes no sense at all. Hell, it's not even linear.

I keep a good house. Actually, I keep a great house. It's something I get a lot of pleasure out of (the results, if not the process:)), and it's something Sir finds great value in. (The decrease in his severe allergies, for example) So it's not like I'm suddenly going to surrender the place to dust bunnies and sinks full of dishes, or Sir will wake to no clean clothing. However, how much value am I presenting in myself as a servant if all I can do is keep house, bake, and walk in 6" heels?

Not much, and it's value of limited scope, at that. However, by 'indulging' myself in things like dharma study, dance classes, and other such things, I'm adding much to the scope of my value to him. Recent example - Over the past week or so I've noticed I've been getting frustrated/overwhelmed very easily. Tracking it back in time, I realized last night it maps to when I started skipping my yoga and meditation practices, due to the sudden increase in work. I'd been able to control well enough that Sir rarely noticed, but it's been getting more and more apparent that all was not right with me. (Easily fixed, however) Right there, in flaming pink neon, is the example I needed of how these things make me a better person and a better servant.

While I'd still like to uncover the underlying issues surrounding the problems I've had with only seeing value in drudgery, I'm immeasureably pleased that I've come to understand how it's meaningless and how to resolves it. I expect the problems themselves connect to the same old story, and I'll work them out in time.

Jade

"Costing not less than everything"

Calligraphy is one of my more useless talents. Also, someone slap me before I volunteer to do something again?

An explanation is probably in order....A while ago, I off-handedly mentioned to Bob and Clare (Sir's parents) that if they wanted, I could label placecards for them in calligraphy. Nothing came of it, so I thought they had taken care of it some other way. Last week, however, they asked me if I would label the enelopes they're using to wrap the CD's they're giving away as favors at the party. Stupidly, I said yes, and was given the materials Friday. That is *not* enough time to do a proper job, considering my parents arrive Thursday, and there's much other to do besides. Even though I do Uncial, a fairly simple alphabet (think Book of Kells) it takes a lot of concentration and focus, especially on slippery cardstock. Still, I managed to get them done all tonight, although there are 7 I'm not satisfied with. However, 7 out of 25, with this being the first time I've picked up a dip pen in 3 years, isn't bad. Luckily, calligraphy is like riding a bike, the hands know what to do, one just has to get out of their way.

I might be using it more in the future too - I picked up some nice carstock a while ago, with the intention of doing some ink drawings on them, making my own notecards. I might add little snippets of poetry to them, now that I remember that I can. I might also go back to working on Gothic lettering....No, no, Jade, stop that. No more craft projects, you have enough. Sheesh.

And now for something completely different...While looking through old entries some comments caught my eye littleblueworld said;"Sometime we have to for not for the other, but for our own sake." Reading this, something loosened in me, in a flash of light. namaste21 wondered about 'being like water', and whether or not that cheated her out of the chance to feel, express, and acknowledge, bringing on another flash of light.

Water flows in many ways. Gentle rains, ripples in a pond, sweet-running brooks. At other times it falls in torrents, coming down on our skin with painful impact, waves crash against the shore with a sound to drown out thunder, waterfalls wreak their eternal havoc.

By being like water we are giving ourselves permission to really, *really* feel, express, and acknowledge. We are trained to have only the gentle images in mind, inorder to remain quiet, not rock the boat. The more powerful images give us what we need, what will wash us finally clean.

I will be like water. My rage crashes through me, with its own thunder and lightening, droplets falling like knives. My rage washes through me, around me, in and out of me in my breathless dance, my voice raised in song filled with years old pain, my fingers pounding the keyboard, writng vitriolic rants that I wouldn't even post here, they're fit only for expression and then deletion. My rage is given *permission* to fully flower.

It blooms in a riot of red and gold - "the fire and the rose are one" - it blooms with beauty that is truly heartbreaking - and it fades. It fades, the waves cease their thunderous battering, I am spent. And in the silence that floows, I am warm and clean.

Of course the storm will return, and with it the furious dance will begin again. But each time, I let it run through me, let the flower bloom - and it fades, leaving me with memory of its terrible beauty, and the silence, the power and peace it leaves behind.

Do not grasp, but allow yourself to be grasped. Allow yourself to be shaken to the bone, to be caught up in the storm, and then watch it fade.

Jade