Working in a spirit of restraint, I find ecstacy. I live in the moments of freedom where I am bound, body straining, lungs heaving and mental focus is a torture. The task of self discipline, self mastery becomes spiritual in that place of lust. Even as the ecstasy of letting go comes to me, my barriers are torn away and I'm left more pure, more genuine me. My masks, behind which I hide, are shattered, molded to fit a different form then mine.
I find freedom in having the self discipline broken, that sweet release of pure energy. For the art of the spiritual lies in it's paradox.
Oh, submission, that is another joy I find such delight in it. To give myself fully to another. To honor myself with the gift of one who is worthy of me. For in giving myself to them and their acceptance, I find I am recieving them. There is something sacred in the gift of each other that two people make in the bedroom. It is not mearly lust that spurs this gift on but some sacred duty. This duty is to love and be loved in return.
Sex is but a natural progression of this love. Yest, I know there are other ways to describe and aspire to show this burgeoning love. For love is an emotion and the human mind can convey emotion in an infanite array of ways, not all using the human body. But love, why is it so sacred? what makes it so holy? why is it a gift, a thing most precious. Just as we all need food and shelter to live and be healthy, so too do we need human contact and love to do so.
It is a rare soul that can live as an aescetic and alone. These hardy souls are voyagers into the place of spirit that few venture to. For their chosen companion is themselves. That is not my place. i love the warm circle of my husband's arms far too much to give it up and be alone. I strive, however, to succeed alone. I struggle to adapt myself to the silence of an empty room and the presence of only myself, not one stick of furniture or bare flickering of a candle. But it is hard. Such places of silence do exist, but rare is the mood that brings me there.
The white silence of fury brings me there. I have come to fear that place because warm compassion does not seem to exist, only cold logic and lightning's power. Some day, I shall yet master it. Fear is no man's friend, not when it is your master. Yet, when you strive to conqure it and take it into you as a part o yourself, your soul, fear becomes a wise counselor, warning you of dangers and ill consequences.
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