Thursday, November 13, 2008

Midwifing Through the Bush Years

I've set up an auto-reply on my email and graciously passed on my tried and true to trusted cohorts. Months ago, I turned off my appointment line. And before that, I had already taken down my ads and commercial site. My decision to close this chapter of my life - sessions and dungeon rentals, interviews and checkpoints, inquiries and reviews - has been a long time in coming, as readers of my blog are likely aware.

My hesitation arose from my sense of caring and responsibility towards my cadre of submissives. I know all too well how much they put on the line by exposing their innermost secrets and offering up their bodies as they do. I would not say that the game of pain and subjugation attracts more dysfunctional souls than any other pursuit, it's simply easy to hide it there. So I felt it my duty to watch over my devotees, guiding and challenging them on their journeys of self-discovery, through the grueling moments to the heights of bittersweet, blissful surrender.

Yet there was a click. A sudden realization that I did not want to do this anymore and that I did not need to. A sense of relief, that I could let this go, because we had made it through the darkness into the dawn of a new age. In fact, it was the day after the presidential election. I didn't see the larger significance at first. Until I remembered how I got here. It was after 9/11 that I embraced my motto "carpe diem" and dared myself to live out my deliciously devious fantasies. Of course, there were other factors at that time, like the hot Eurasian pro-switch I made out with all night at Bondage-a-go-go who introduced me to the industry, then my best friend's sudden announcement of her desire to apprentice to a dominatrix, as well as my vanilla job fatigue, my boredom with swinging, and my desire for one last dash of frivolity at the end of my 20s.

But 9/11 and its aftermath had the greatest impact. I was working hard and playing even harder, popping ecstasy on weekends and jet-setting around to decadent parties full of beautiful people. Things were good, almost too good. It was like waking up from a dream. We were thrust into scary, ambiguous times. And we could not console ourselves with the certainty that we were still the good guys. I felt the grimness set in. I am quite sensitive to collective energy, to the flavor of the milieu. At times I wish this was less the case. But if felt right to tap into those tumultuous undercurrents, to connect with the pain and the suffering and the rage, as we hunkered down in our enslavement to an age of simple-mindedness and deceit. I midwifed through the Bush years, riding the dark waves as we all grew numb to hope. And so it is fitting that I felt this shift so completely - in my body, mind and spirit - the day after our historic election. The audacity of hope, indeed.