Giant Goodbye

It's dragged out longer than I wanted.  It was harder than I thought to get out.  You keep getting pulled back, even when everything that drew you to it in the first place is like a faded memory.  Even when exciting new developments are waiting in the wings for your full attention.  Old habits die hard and nostalgia has its pull.  But I finally closed the door for good when I said to myself: it doesn't matter who they are, even the dearest ones, it's time to set up a permanent auto-reply and announce my retirement.  They can take care of themselves.  It's time to shut that door for good.

Boundaries have always been my weakness, and so with this leaving it was messy and upsetting.  Maybe it couldn't have been any other way.  In this arena, I was able to turn that weakness into a strength, gaining momentum from those slippery boundaries, sliding in and out of them with bravado.

In the beginning, I had something to prove.  At the time, it seemed such a brave and daring thing.  To show who's wearing the pants around here.  To serve up a slice of pain of violation, subjugation, and objectification.  Straight from the heart, aimed like an arrow into yours.  Revenge and glory all wrapped up into one neat package: Mistress Xia.

It's almost funny how we all keep reenacting our hurt, as if we can somehow make it better, get it right if we just keep at it.  But you cannot exorcise demons through repeated exposure, not unless you are truly safe.  And being emotionally safe in a professional environment revolving around sexuality takes a monumental effort; perhaps a thicker skin than I can muster.  In the end, I think the parameters are off.

Yes, I traded places with the perpetrator, but it was same dance.  A simplistic, binary dance which failed to embrace the shades of gray, the ultimate paradox of life.  An illusory act, complicit in its thrust of inauthenticity - the idea that intimacy of any kind can be up for sale, that people do not really have to see one another, but can simply order up what they've imagined in the isolation of their own heads.  It always seemed like cheating, that you could get to someone you normally wouldn't have a chance with because money exchanged hands.  It's not earned that way, and it's hard to respect because of it.  I do not want to be a part of the lies anymore, nor the misunderstanding and ego-tripping these lies perpetuate.  No more running into pain to run away.

---

My City was on fire this past week, giddy with celebration over our first World Series win.  It was no coincidence that during this playoff run, I set myself free.  I was loving every minute following these guys who played with such pure hearts and clear minds, without the egotistical fronting.  Weird, wild, fun-loving, hard-working, creative, and humble - this underdog team of 2010 was a beautiful reflection of the spirit of San Francisco. 

It was great to watch these Giants not succumb to the small-minded questioning of the sports press, who cajoled in an attempt to inflate their egos by asking them to choose who among them was the best, tempting the players to alienate themselves from a common effort.  In that last game, the other team's pitcher lost because he wouldn't back down, he said that wasn't his way.  But we could all feel the danger immediately preceding that moment, and knew backing down would have been the wise and prudent thing to do - if not for him, then for his team.  Our scrappy team would not make the same mistake.  And our own unassuming yet phenomenal pitcher, a hero among heroes, without a doubt had much to do with our success.  

I could not help but see some analogies within this arena and the one I just left.  Burning bright and hard with youth, the talented rise to the top.  And though we earn vital wisdom with age, our bodies will inevitably give way.  The seduction of the ego is ever present, and there are many devils in disguise.  There is the pure joy of the game, and the dark side of exploitation and objectification.  It is easy to forget about the fun and get jaded.  But if you protect yourself and learn to tune out the bullshit, you can keep that magic... at least for a little while.

So this past week, amidst the throng of fans who lined the streets of San Francisco, I fell in love with my adopted city all over again.  It's been fifteen years since I moved up here from that hellacious town down south.  The City is my refuge from all that I despised down there: the superficial cool, the forced cynicism, the hierarchy and sexism, the meanness, ignorance, and arrogance - all that powering the machine of Hollywood fast food celebrity culture.  Growing up there, it was almost as if that town goes out of its way to spit on you.  Up here we revel in the goofy, we smile and mostly mean it, we know how to be real and how to love.  We are a wellspring of post/modern culture: from beatniks to hippies to Burning Man and the techno-evolution.  We are unselfconscious, not afraid to show that we speak from the heart and that we believe.  That's what makes San Francisco such a great city, a city where each of us matters, and which inspires us do the "impossible" while others are still saying no.    

Tourists of Fun

A longtime denizen of nightlife, I have noticed a new breed as of late. Camera ready in hand, they take pictures at every opportunity, documenting "how much fun" they are having to show all the world on Facebook. I was at some event recently where I was introduced to a few of this species. I can recall no discernible personality, though they were pleasant enough. What I remember most is their constant picture-taking. To me, there seemed no way for them to actually get into the flow of what has happening all around them. They were oblivious - their awkward machinations, almost robotic in their actions, as if playing off a script. There was no real engagement with their surroundings. The irony of having true fun and connection impeded by the awkward and endless recording of one's life seemed to be lost on them.

Don't get me wrong. My friend runs a nightlife website and I am used to posing for the obligatory photos. I've been told that I have had more photos of me posted over the years than anyone else, a tribute to my ongoing involvement in local dance music culture. It's one thing to interrupt your socializing, dancing, and carousing to strike an occasional pose. It's another to actually not be interrupting anything, but simply to pose as if you are having the time of your life.

It reminds me of a particular way of travelling which I had the misfortunate of experiencing once during a trip to Paris with some other American girls. Our brief stay was a race from landmark to landmark. There was no depth to our excursion. No steeping in Parisian culture. Rather, it was a series of stereotypical photo opportunities. I could have stayed home and seen the same in any standard travel documentary.

So now with Facebook, we have the social movers and shakers who are all show. It's like my lament that LA nightlife looks better on film than in person. In all the years I used to rave and club down there, I saw little real community, at least amongst the non-celebrities. It's a two-dimensional set rather than an immersive scene, and you are an extra. It is all for the eye, to be seen but not felt.

Do these FB clubbers convince themselves that they are having fun? Is it the same as the scientific research which suggests that smiling can induce happiness? It seems so empty and contrived, as I pose for their pictures, colluding in their illusion. I smile and tilt my head, an aesthetically pleasing and fashionable paper doll, there to confirm their status as what? Jet-setting bohemians? Sophisticated party animals? Social butterflies? Yeah right.

Blogging

Hello to all who enjoy reading my blog~

One of the great liberating aspects of writing this blog has been my ability to unabashedly share my thoughts.  This has been contingent upon a certain degree of anonymity and the freedom to write without too much thought about the repercussions of what I say.  Yet the longer I have posted to my Chronicles, the harder it has become - in the sense that I am no longer really anonymous, my identity as Mistress Xia pretty firmly established within certain communities.  And I can no longer deny that I have held back posts on numerous occasions for fear of offending people I care about, or providing too much information to potential supplicants.  Laying my soul bare to strangers is one thing, but doing so and then creating the opportunity to meet with me in an intimate situation is perhaps too much for me these days. 

With these considerations in mind, I have started to post on a new blog which is not restricted to my life as a dominatrix.  I will not be publicizing this blog because that would defeat its purpose.  I will still try to post here occasionally.  Though I regret that I will not be sharing as much in this space, I hope it reassures some of my followers to know that I am still writing, somewhere out there. . .

M. Xia

UndercoverDominatrix.com temporarily down

Oops I forgot to renew my main website!  Have no fear, it should be back up in the next day or so ;)

Maggie Q

as

Le Femme Nikita

Dreamers and Schemers

I attended a conference last weekend and got so stoked on all the intellectual stimulation. I need this, above and beyond emotional sustenance - I need that engagement in higher levels of critical thinking. It was great to have such a meeting of the minds.

I met someone at this event who had also attended the MAPS conference over the summer. He and I both agreed that this organization is a strange mix of dreamers and schemers. The dreamers are the big thinkers whose ideas and experiments inspire and drive the direction of the movement. Yet the everyday running of things seems to be controlled by the schemers, who have nothing original to offer, but seeing this pot of gold in front of them, they want to control it and bask in the glow of those with true power.

The schemers were ego tripping, politicking, power grabbing. The dreamers seemed to float above it, letting the schemers carry them through their execution of the mundane tasks required. Meanwhile, the schemers fought amongst themselves, vying for the opportunity to be the best handler, as if they could somehow own the dreamers. It was strange to observe these two parallel worlds functioning together. I am sure this sort of structure is quite common in ventures where there are powerful idea-makers and a wealth of creativity that needs to be managed.

A Focus on Enhancement & Optimization

In the trenches now for the first time as a beginning counselor, I am finding it gratifying and incredibly intense. This new challenge may be less glamorous than D/s sessions, yet in many ways it is a fitting extension of the interpersonal growth work which began for me in the dungeon.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that it has been books of my own choosing, not those assigned in my classes, which have really furthered my understanding of human nature. The topics of these books, such as lucid dreaming, neuro linguistic programming (NLP), enneagram personality system, and non-violent communication (NVC) are considered too left field, too new or too "pop psychology" to be included in the required coursework. It makes sense then that this would be where the real learning takes place, and that it would require self-motivation, initiative and creative research to find. The good stuff rarely ever just falls into your lap!

As I have continued on in my studies and practice, I am becoming more certain that my path will lead me towards a focus on life enhancement and optimal actualization, rather than pathology. While I feel privileged to be in the midst of such a role at the moment, my life has been so much about pursuing excellence and going beyond the baseline of success to an even higher level of fulfillment. I am looking forward to integrating the knowledge I have gleened from my eclectic explorations into a coaching and training role.

Better than Reality?

In the past, my mother has told me that I have a way of writing that makes things sound better than they actually are. I laugh and wonder to myself if this is because I was a voracious reader of cereal boxes and other everyday snippets of marketing. It is true that what I create with words at once attempts to embody but also transcend that to which I refer.

With this in mind, I sadly must state my disappointment with the movie Salt. As much as I love Angelina Jolie, and as happy as I am about her breaking through the action movie gender barrier, I wish Hollywood could come up with a better quality script than that. We have come to the point where we are merely telegraphing ideas and going through the motions. Mainstream movies are getting longer, but not deeper! Well, there's still Inception. I'm excited to see if the film has any effect on my lucid dreaming explorations.

Speaking of better than reality, I was mildly shocked to see recent pictures of Megan Fox looking a little too plastic at a movie premiere. My first thought was she has succumbed to the pressures of Hollywood and dipped into Botox and other procedures. A quick google search revealed the truth: that the woman we know as Megan Fox is an almost completely artificial, surgically-induced creation. Not happy with her girl-next-door good looks, she has repeatedly gone under the knife to give her the vampish, high glamour appearance of an Angelina Jolie lookalike. I'm not one to censure such actions, as obviously her plastic pursuits got her this far. Yet it seems like she does not know when to stop, and as such has pulled the curtains away from the illusion. The next self-created star will hopefully also be able to act.

To make matters worse, I left my phone in the movie theater! Some part of me is even relieved. These smart phones begin to eat away at our existence, separating us from the immediacy of the physical world. It reminds me of the 1991 Wim Wenders film Until the End of the World, in which people become addicted to hand-held devices which capture their dreams. Eventually, the addicts do not want to do anything else but stare at their dreams, growing lethargic, neglecting to eat or sleep as their red-rimmed eyes stay glued to the tiny screens. In many ways, a prescient movie.

The disembodied effect of new media fascinates me. How awareness of time itself can disappear as we merge with the endless stream of data coming our way. In this era, I feel that it is even more vital to stay connected with the physical plane.

Recently, I had one of those intangible and highly internalized revelations which are hard to describe or fully make sense of with words. It was during some treasured alone time, when the exterior trappings of our self concept are allowed to fall away and we can attune ourselves with a greater consciousness. I sang from my soul and allowed my spirit to dance, loving and rediscovering myself. It was then, as I faced the mirror, that I began to sense my body in a different way. Not simply as a vehicle to be used by my thinking self, but a full-fledged complimentary intelligence residing within me. A body-centered intelligence which we all too often neglect and suppress, if not completely ignore. The duality of our existence is nested within us all.

Salt - Changes in Hollywood

I've watched the publicity surrounding Angelina Jolie's new action movie Salt with a great deal of excitement. Finally, a badass action hero who happens to be a woman! They are saying she is the first action star to transcend gender. I also was happy to hear that fellow hapa (he is half Samoan) Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson is going to be taking over a Clive Owen role that is in production. It is great to see a woman and a multiracial actor stepping into lead roles that had formerly been reserved for caucasian men.

I grew up pissed off at the sexism of the movie industry; my critical lens nourished by the cutting insight of a feminist mother. There have been some changes since then - more women in active roles, not just screaming victims breaking their stilettos at inopportune moments. But of course, there is still a lot of BS in the biz. In her memoir Suck It, Wonder Woman! The Misadventures of a Hollywood Geek, Olivia Munn mentions a sleazy blockbuster movie director who whips it out and masturbates in front of women in their trailers, another filmmaker whose nickname for his girlfriend is "whore", a studio honcho who shows off his sex toy to strangers, and an actor whose improvised dialogue detailed his desire to take a shower with Munn's character. Munn, who is yet another hapa, states that these men are pathetic for needing to debase their power like that. I hope her outing of them helps throw some sunlight on their dirty practices.

I know for myself, working on a studio lot just out of undergrad, I was amazed at how scantily-clad all the women were - not just clerical/gophers, but producers and the like. It hammered home for me that, in Hollywood, all women are expected to objectify themselves. I think that's why I've found only limited success in my dealings with SoCal Mistress seekers. In that environment, it is hard to have one's femme power taken seriously.

A few years ago I went up to the Bunny Ranch to hang out with a friend who was doing marketing for Dennis Hof. I got to watch them film the Cathouse reality show, and be an extra in the background while I privately studied the dynamics of a bordello. During that trip, I met a very attractive woman who had just flown in from LA. She was an aspiring actress, and was happy to be making some money on the side. In all too many ways, the two jobs are quite similar - indeed, for those without the benefit of nepotism, the casting couch is alive and well.

Changes are occurring, yet not as fast as they could be. Studies still show that the more TV a person watches, the more sexist, racist, and fearful of crime they are. The media skews heavy watchers' views of the world, regularly objectifying women, demonizing minorities, and scaring the hell out of everyone.

Back to Angelina, I read one male reviewer of Salt state something like the following: "Listen up kids. The physics is all wrong. Girlfriend has no throw weight." So let's just forget for a moment that movies are supposed to involve a suspension of disbelief. Does this reviewer really think that 5'7" Tom Cruise, who Jolie replaced in the role, would make a more believable secret agent? Homeboy don't have much throw weight himself. I remember reading a review of one of Jolie's Tomb Raider movies in which the male reviewer whined something to the effect of "Who does she think she is? Strutting around as if she were hot stuff." Such juvenile reactions. Ms. Jolie has stated that she never wanted to be a Bond girl, she wanted to be Bond. And not just for her, but for her daughters.

Yet the pushback does not always have to come from men. Olivia Munn has been severely criticized by several female bloggers who claim that the success she has achieved in Hollywood is due to her looks (she co-hosts Attack of the Show, did a gig with the Daily Show, and is starring in a new network sitcom). She counters that a woman can be both smart and sexy - interviewing politicians on the Daily Show and appearing on the covers of Maxim and Playboy. Why do they need to be mutually exclusive? Wouldn't it be reverse discrimination to disqualify her just because she is attractive? There seems no way to please the peanut gallery! Studies on the relationship between self-esteem and put-downs has confirmed my worst suspicions - that people actually can elevate their self-esteem by denigrating others. This goes a long way to explaining all the vicious, misogynist flames you can find in the comments section of articles about Jolie. The threatened reaction of the masses tells a lot about where the real changes are taking place. Keep fighting the good fight my Hollywood heroes - we are getting there!

The "articulate porn star"

I found the following link to a Salon.com interview of adult video performer Lorelei on Max Fisch under the heading "Interview with an articulate porn star." I was struck by the title of the thread, which implies a common bias that a woman who engages in work of a sexual nature must be an air-headed bimbo.

Here is another link on the San Francisco Chronicle's website which features an award-winning seven-minute documentary on Lorelei.

Lorelei met a friend of mine, who is also a local pro domme, during a sex workers art show tour. She ended up taking sessions out of my alma mater, The Gates, when she lived in the Bay Area. You can actually catch a glimpse of the inside of the new house in the video.

In one scene in the documentary, Lorelei speaks of her disappointment in one of her professors. After having told him of her work in the adult industry, he told her that he would prefer that she not reveal this to her fellow students, so that she "could stay the smart girl who sits in the front of the class." Once again, that sexy girl=dumb girl bias. As if the two things - being smart and being a sex worker - are mutually exclusive. What follows naturally from this argument is that such work is inherently harmful to women and therefore only stupid ones would engage in it.

Certainly, there are a fair share of individuals within the porn who substitute sex for thinking. Yet in my experience, there are also quite a few players who are highly articulate and critical thinkers. Now in graduate school in New York, Lorelei's Salon.com interview illustrates cogent arguments from a courageous and insightful mind. My favorite quotes from the interview follow:

The prevailing message women receive is that sexual aggression is unfeminine, that a woman's primary sexual role is as regulator of male desire — to say yes or no, but not to pursue desires of our own. Women are still often taught that sexy is the same as "pretty," that it means dressing a certain way and then waiting to be approached...

If we lived in a society in which women's sexuality was celebrated, and was seen as usually proactive rather than usually passive, I don't think people would jump so quickly to the concepts of exploitation and dehumanization when they thought of female performers.

Hierarchy & Leadershp

I have been blessed with a certain degree of personal power, the effects of which I have often noticed in various situations involving group dynamics. I used to fret over the self-consciousness and existential angst that this would inevitably bring up for me. To feel watched and then imitated, a process which usually struck me as more unconscious than not, as if all the players involved were simply acting out a primeval, collective dance.

Hierarchy comes naturally to most primates, and on this instinctive level, we are no different. Yet I am not a believer in biology as destiny. Far from it. In this day and age, it may seem that the extra brains of our species have only burdened us with the folly of intelligence-driven destruction. Yet the one thing we may cherish as human beings is the ability to transcend the vestiges of our evolution and envision an as-yet-unrealized ideal.

As for the effects of everyday hierarchy, the reality is one of limited options and minimal personal control felt in the lower echelons of society. We are finding out that the stress of being on the bottom rung of the ladder is insidious, long-lasting, and highly impactful on factors such as life expectancy, overall health and well-being. Even just a small step up the ladder significantly decreases these negative effects.

This real-life exercising of heirarchy is toxic, not to mention boring and non-consensual. Though many people express resignation about this state of affairs, saying things like "It's always been this way and it always will be," I am not so pessimistic. Women's liberation and the civil rights movement has demonstrated how deeply engrained social structures can be transformed. Technology is also on our side, with scientists working to create a "vaccine" to combat the ravages of low status stress (though of course, a medical intervention of this kind would open up a whole other can of worms. Would the vaccine be used to substitute for more equal access to resources? But actually, this status stress has been measured in developed cultures where even the lowest rung has a fairly high standard of living. So it appears that the lack of heirarchical power, more than inadequate basic needs, may be driving these negative effects).

In the big picture, I wish for hierarchy to remain where it belongs; as a titillating game which gouds us into action, provoking innovation and the inspiration of passion. I would not support attempts to obliterate that which is in our nature. I simply believe in manipulating the variables, re-directing energies into more useful, playful, creative and positive avenues.

As for myself, I have spent quite a bit of time shying away from the leadership roles which have come my way. In some ways, I took humility too far. Now, I understand that to lead can be the fulfillment of duty and responsibility, not just a narcissistic crown on one's head. Particularly for my circle of supplicants, some of whom did not serve anyone else during my leave, I feel a desire to connect, fulfill, and transcend. I see my singular vision of what it means to be a domina as both an artistic impulse and a spiritual obligation.

And while, in the past, the gifts I have been blessed with may have seemed like a burden, my experiences during my break taught me plenty, including just how great I have it. Those down-time explorations which were marked by barrenness, banality, and the taking on of shame. Yes, there was dabbling in vanilla and femme sub to boot. No, it didn't work for me, but I suppose I had to see for myself once and for all. And now I am that much stronger and wiser for having gone down those paths, so that I could really know in my heart that this is where I belong. Amen.

Rockin' to the Beat of Your Own Drummer

I rocked a catwoman outfit for a villains & heroes-themed gathering. I don't think I've ever worn such a transformative costume. Even friends did not recognize me. It was like I was another person, people reacted to me so differently. Children stared and grown-ups strolled up with smiles, saying "Hey Catwoman..." I was amazed how approachable one becomes when taking on such an icon. I felt very much the supervillain. Yet instead of super powers, these costumes actually seem to decrease one's senses. I could barely hear with my ears covered by a rubber mask, and others complained that their masks blocked their peripheral vision. We laughed at this irony. Isn't it funny how life is like that - a topsy turvy world where things are not always as they seem.

I recently had a chance to study the issue of conformity and as such have been contemplating the full extent of its force upon all of us, most especially at unconscious levels. We conform because it makes us uncomfortable not to, we feel it in our guts when things stray too far outside the norm. In kink, we play with this feeling, as with so many other conflicted dynamics.

One aspect of conformity in the vanilla world I always am disappointed to see is when a beautiful woman wearing a killer, original outfit gets the jitters and midway through the party changes into something more conventional or otherwise tones it down. Unfortunately, I have seen this happen on numerous occasions. I jokingly remember these long lost outfits as "the ones that got away."

Admittedly, it can be a bit trying to don an edgy outfit. But if it's sexy and works, then I think a woman has to learn to suck it up and go with it. We all benefit when we are blessed with a vision of beauty and creativity. Sure, you may be getting more looks than you're used to, but that's because you are rocking it. There's that intangible pull to want to shimmy back to the median, but you have to have the balls to resist and step up. Yes, that's right, women have to have balls too!

All right, well you've caught Mistress in a more playful mood today ;) I'll sign off for now. . .

Domination: Better as a Game in a Dungeon

Living in San Francisco in my carefully crafted unconventional life, I forget sometimes what it must be like for many of the seekers out there. We may play at games of subjugation and humiliation, but Mistress does not really want to cut off your balls. It's unfortunate that I have to state this, yet when I get glimpses into the vanilla dating world through stories that my guy friends tell me, it occurs to me how brainwashed most women out there are. They make all sorts of silly and draining demands on men because they've been programmed to think these are necessary to demonstrate that they are respected and loved. Once again, it's the replacement of true understanding between essentially equal beings with arbitrary signposts of the so-called "right" way to do things.

All of this is much healthier if constrained to the dungeon. We all play power games, but most do it subversively if not unconsciously. Better to name it and turn it into a game than let it secretly rule you, and be frustrated in one's attempts to escape this intangible web.

In coming back into the professional arena, I wanted to stay true to my vision of femme domme. And I still believe in my way. For serving an authentically powerful and wise woman is not unlike going to church - one's spirit is elevated in worshipful ecstasy. Yet I know I must scare some men away with my uncompromising vision. For all they probably have known of female domination is the cold-hearted scheming of those who, in their ignorance and weakness, must make others feel bad so that they can feel good. And I'm just speaking of everyday women in this world, not dominatrices. That is very far from what I am all about.

Double Trouble, Planned Excitement, Battling Vanilla

I had a lovely double session with Mistress Ai-Li. Actually, I think all three of us – submissive included – were amazed at how perfectly everything flowed . And to think, this was our first time running a scene together! I am definitely looking forward to more multi-Mistress sessions. Mistress Ai-Li and I have known each other socially for some time now, and it is gratifying to know that our affinity for one another carries over into our in-scene chemistry.

I was thinking about the idea of planned excitement. Some people’s idea of fun is chaos. They think adventure must be accompanied by pure spontaneity. That to plan things out is boring and somehow takes away from the thrill. I have been accused of just such a thing, and yet I’m afraid that my accusers could not possibly have as exciting a life as me. Waiting for the next fire to put out or some other unanticipated drama is not my idea of a good time. The whole idea of crafting a scene and organizing a session around it goes hand in hand with this idea of planned excitement. It is possible to have a highly pleasurable life that is also well coordinated. In fact, in the adept execution of our desires, we create a safe space to lose control.

I recently posted on Max Fisch in response to a thread which debated the question of whether or not a pro domme is a sex worker. This thread has mysteriously been removed, as I had meant to quote directly from my post. It was quite a long and involved thread, yet I believe that my late contribution to the discussion was the only one to explicitly state that I did in fact differentiate myself from other types of sex workers. It would seem that professional dominas have become so sensitive to the contingencies of political correctness that we no longer can simply state the obvious.

I believe that this distinction matters because without it, the essence of what makes dominatrices unique is lost. If we do not emphasize this delineation, we risk allowing the vanilla to seep in. Indeed, part of what goes on in the dungeon is a playful battle between femme domme and vanilla. Men seek out this alternative experience where traditional gender roles are reversed, yet deep down many unconsciously yearn to turn the tables, to be the one who is able to declaw the cat and transform her into a cuddly kitten.

To me, the oath of the Mistress involves commitment to her role as the anti-GFE, the woman who will not go with you down the well-tread paths of the everyday, but who instead insists upon the twist – and lives and breathes it with all her heart. Are we yet another pretty package to be bought, this time with a bit more naughty spice added to the mix? Of course, there will always be men and women involved in the game who see it that way. Yet that is the difference between play-acting at Dominance/submission and truly manifesting it.

It reminds me of that final scene in the second Batman film where Catwoman tells Batman that she would love to give up the fight and go away with him to live happily ever after in his castle. But in the end, she cannot. The destiny of the dominatrix is to stay on the shadowy path, liberated from convention, reveling in hot perversion… and whatever else her deviously creative mind can think of.

Breaking through the Surface

Surface, surface, surface. It's amazing how one can just live on the surface of life, only caring about the window dressing. I have seen how it is to live like that, sucked in as we all get from time to time, the pull of the bad romance. The irony of the materially-enriched yet internally impoverished existence. Of course, the two are not mutually exclusive in most cases. Yet we are forever hiding behind the shell of things. Some have ignored the depths for so long, they no longer recognize that anything is missing. They think the actions and the objects are the same thing as the feelings and the inner growth.

I once had a lover who would describe dreams and aspirations only in terms of how it would look, how we would be dressed and how we would act, as if we were playing parts in a movie. Creative visualization but without a soul, no ghost in the machine. All the pretty things and all the pretty people in the world cannot fill up that emptiness, my dear. In the end, there is no running away from the truth.

Even in the dungeon, some just go through the motions. Admittedly, here it is more complicated. For instance, my critique about the over-emphasis on objects and actions may fall on deaf ears to the fetishist. It is incredibly subtle, the distinction I am trying to make. In my mind, relationships are not really about actions and objects. Though I know many, if not most, see them this way - as if the relationship were a spreadsheet where the rituals of reciprocation and regard are tracked and scored. Yes, consideration matters, but not just the face of it, when it is done by route, and most especially not when there is an expectation that there will be winners and losers. How can we truly see one another when that's all there is?

For those of us who crave the real, the dungeon can be a place where we break through the surface. Through the tools of control and submission, we tease out the impermanent from the everlasting. But you have to be fully present to it. If I simply stay skating on the surface, musing to myself about what an amazing domme I am, how good I look, how desired I am or other self-indulgent tripe, will I notice when my submissive has had too much? If I am not right there with him, inside his head, I cannot possibly know where to to take us and how to get back. Not for anything other than a fill-in-the-blank experience. We both have to be willing, for that journey into truth. As in all worthy endeavors, it takes courage, strength, humility and honesty to know the way and keep on the path.

A Little Help From Our Friends

We sit in the workshop classroom as the instructor, a Freudian analyst, tells us that the "hows" and "whys" of therapy are a mystery. That we don't really understand how it works when it does, or what went wrong when it doesn't. The young and eager attendees shift in uncomfortable silence. We want answers. We want certainty. Empirically-based evidence that we are heading in the right direction. We want the validity of science, not just the beauty of art. I think that is why so many in the new generation like the CBT model - no, not cock and ball torture! Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. It is concrete and measurable. As such, it reassures us. Ambiguity, that sense of groundlessness - that can be so unnerving. We keep trying to stay in control. Again and again, it comes back to balance. Holding the reins lightly but not letting go. Neither one extreme or the other. Neither all-out anarchy nor dictatorship. It requires true mindfulness to stay in the middle.

Since I came back from a dive trip to the Asian Pacific, I have been delightfully deluged with the servitude of my dear submissives. I am blessed to know so many bright, positive, and genuinely nice people. With a little help from my submissive friends, I have eased my way back into the dungeon and stoked my passion for D/s play.

While I am still entertaining applications from those I do not know, I continue to refine my screening process to best meet my need for compatibility. I am a very sensitive person and there is a definite emotional investment in the process of seeing someone new in the dungeon. I cannot do this craft in any other way but to put my heart and soul into it. As such, when there are disappointments, they inevitably have an effect on me. I strive to protect myself from energy-draining experiences, yet it is quite natural that these will occasionally intrude upon my life. I take them as opportunities to learn, providing valuable feedback which allows me to hone both the messages I convey and the parameters of my assessment.

I was speaking with another domina about how, with the advent of the internet, the craft of professional domination has become more service provider-oriented. There is no doubt in my mind that I have benefited from the information age, with my fondness for visual technology and my ease with online communication. Yet this illustrates a newfound subtlety for me - namely, weeding out those who are ultimately looking for a service provider experience. Sometimes this distinction, intangible as it is, is not consciously known by the seeker. Sadly, it may be due to the fact that he has never encountered any other kind of experience. Whatever the case may be, I am happy to find my skills at discrimination to be progressing.

With our Mother Earth bleeding oil and disasters a regular news item these days, sometimes it feels so trifling to play the Mistress. Yet because of these outside stressors, the time we set aside to get away from it all can be vital. For me, it is not about forgetting reality, but about acknowledging it, grieving our losses, and celebrating the spirit which soothes and strengthens us all.

Choice

Lessons often seem simple after the fact. But that is because we must live them to learn them. We cannot just be told and then somehow absorb that wisdom. That's why all the fortune cookie sayings in the world cannot change you. You must change yourself. Or be willing to surrender to it.

The realization that I have had of late concerns the exercising of choice. Many dominas claim to be selective. But how many actually are? I think the happy ones must be. Those foundation years at The Gates, I wanted so badly to believe that my craft was one and the same as my independent sisters. In doing so, I deluded myself on the one key difference: the freedom to truly choose who would serve me.

In retrospect, the thing that wore on me during my twilight days at the house was not being a Mistress in and of itself. On the contrary, each time I come back to it, it feels more right. It was the burden of accommodation. The sloppy compatability, the disregard for the importance of good fit.

Even when I left, burnt out from the poorly mannered and crude who could never fully appreciate all that I am, I still denied myself the power in my own hands. Entering independence that time, I was still in the mindset of a service provider. I thought I had to see everyone who wanted to see me, so long as they sought my listed activities and did not overtly offend with requests for sex or the like.

And yet, in my personal life I have long been very particular about the company I choose to keep. My social circles are peopled with sophisticated jet-setters, cultured aficionados of artful aesthetics, ambitious thinkers and fun-loving metaphysical explorers. So why the dissonance? I think this craft of session-based domination, with its necessity of a double life, led to a compartmentalization of all that I experienced therein.

So like many things, my search for bliss as a Mistress has been a progression towards integration - of "Xia" with the rest of my life. And this has involved, first and foremost, an application of the high standards which I expect of myself and others in my personal life to the dungeon. The valuing of health, prosperity, intelligence, humor, humility, creativity, intuition, positivity and overall balance. . . as well as giving myself permission to say no. These things have made my return all the sweeter.

Catching Up

The outpouring of support has been tremendous. After cultivating many wonderful D/s relationships over the years, it would seem that catching up with those who have served me in the past is all I need for the moment. With my busy schedule, I only have time to session 2 to 3 times a week - and actually, that suits me just fine! A sprinkling of kink to spice up the vanilla in the rest of my week. And having already established trust and goodwill between us, there will be no end to the devious hijinks!

I will likely lock in a few of my favorite submissives, masochists, and strap-on sluts into a regular schedule, then fill in any extra time I may have on an as-needed basis with my out-of-towners. I find the vetting process for new applicants to be quite time-consuming, a bit stressful, and unfortunately often leading to disappointment. So for the time being, I will be focused on re-connecting with old friends and exploring new paths together.

I am playing exclusively out of the City and have 3 sumptuous playspaces at my disposal: an historic chamber in the inner Mission, an extremely well-equipped loft in SOMA, and a sleek North Beach dungeon.

All the best from Mistress Xia

Touched by the Support

I have caught a few episodes here and there of the re-imagined TV series "V," about too-good-to-be-true aliens from another planet who proclaim they come in peace but are secretly intent on the destruction of humanity. I have a certain nostalgia for the original '80s series, having watched it as a young child. For me, nothing can match the original V's bright red uniforms, echo-laden voices, or Diana's shocking engulfment of a guinea pig, her jaw unhinging like a snake. The new conceptualization is more a play on the idea of "What if the good guys had to be the terrorists?" In any case, I watch it intermittently now mainly because I am drawn to Morena Baccarin, the actress who played the space travelling courtesan Inara Serra in Firefly and who is the supremely evil V leader Anna in this series. In the reconceptualization, she is more than a political leader of her people, she is an actual biological queen in a sense analogous to that of a queen bee. She rules her subjects mercilously, in part through her administration of "bliss," which is some sort of innate, hypnotic power she has over the others of her species.

Then there is her teenage daughter, Lisa, who is set by Anna with the seemingly trifling task of seducing a human boy. What was interesting in the season finale was watching Lisa transform from hapless daughter to a powerful woman in her own right. When confronted with the choice to betray her cold-blooded mother, she initially vacillates, but ultimately makes the right decision. It is in one these scenes that I resonated the most. Joshua, one of the leaders of the V underground resistance, has been found out and Lisa goes behind Anna's back to release him from captivity. Before they take leave of each other, Joshua surprises Lisa by bowing his head and quietly uttering, "My Queen." In that moment, Lisa realizes her destiny.

Since allowing Mistress Xia to reemerge, I have felt the ripples of excitement from friends, supporters, and lovers. I have been touched and my eyes widened by the response of the men in my life, an emotional reaction akin to falling to one's knees and saying, "My Queen." There is an almost tangible sense of relief in some quarters to see me coming back to myself, an embracing of my power once again. It's a marvelous thing to be surprised by oneself through others. To finally feel comfortable in one's skin, holding onto the reigns of power firmly yet lightly. To come into one's own, this time having earned through hard experience the strength and compassion to rule wisely. I have tried to be like everyone else. Many, including me, are thankful that I have failed. I'll say it again: it is good be back.

With Gratitude,

Mistress Xia

Embrace the Paradox

Oh my - reading my last few posts, what contradiction! Shame on me? Quite the opposite. As my favorite inspirational writer of writers Brenda Euland once wrote, "Consistency is the horror of the world!" The mercurial ebb and flow of our divine essence is beyond binary logic. Embrace the paradox. . .