Category Archives: BLOGGERY: politics, religion & brain purges……

Wise

Here’s part of a wonderful article from the Huffington Post – “Why It Is Wise to Worship a Woman” by Arjuna Ardagh:

“…Many many years ago, I went to Bali for a vacation, on my own. I met up with some other young travellers there and we hired a Jeep to take us on a tour of the island. We drove up right to the highest point of the island, where Tourists don’t usually go. Our guide took us to one of the most sacred temples. It was surrounded by a big brick wall with an ornate entrance. After removing our shoes and wrapping scarves around our heads, we stepped together through this entrance. Inside, there was a short courtyard and then another brick wall with another entrance. After more preparations of lighting incense and giving offerings, we stepped through the second entrance. We were allowed to go through the opening in one more wall, but that was it. All together there were ten walls around the deity in the middle. Hindus could go beyond the fourth wall. Devotees of that particular deity could go beyond the fifth wall, and so it went on. The only people allowed to approach the deity directly were those who had given their lives completely and totally to its worship. Everyone else could come a little closer, a little closer, to the innermost beauty, but not all the way to the centre.I’m not a big believer of the worship of statues, but there’s a beautiful symbolism to what I saw there, because a woman’s heart is just like that. At the essence of every woman’s heart is the divine feminine. It contains everything that has ever been beautiful, or lovely, or inspiring, in any woman, anywhere, at any time. The very essence of every woman’s heart is the peak of wisdom, the peak of inspiration, the peak of sexual desirability, the peak of soothing, healing love. The peak of everything. But it’s protected, for good reason, by a series of concentric walls. To move inwardly from one wall to the next requires that you intensify your capacity to devotion, and as you do so, you are rewarded with Grace. This is not something you can negotiate verbally with a woman. She doesn’t even know consciously how to open those gates herself. They are opened magically and invisibly by the keys of worship.

If you stand on the outside of the outermost wall, all you have available to you, like many other unfortunate men, is pornography. For $1.99 a minute, you can see her breasts, maybe her vagina, and you can stimulate yourself in a sad longing for deeper love.

Step through another gate, and she will show you her outer gift-wrapping. She’ll look at you with a certain twinkle in her eye. She’ll answer your questions coyly. She’ll give you just the faintest hint that there is more available.

Step through another gate with your commitment, with your attention, with the small seedlings of devotion, and she’ll open her heart to you more. She’ll share with you her insecurities, the way that she’s been hurt, her deepest longings. Some men will back away at this point. They realize that the price they must pay to go deeper is more than they are willing to give. They start to feel a responsibility. But for those few who step though another gate, they come to discover her loyalty, her willingness to stick with you no matter what, her willingness to raise your children, stick up for you in conversation, and, if you are lucky, even pick up your dirty socks now and then. And so it goes on. You’ve got the gist by now.

Somewhere around the second wall from the centre, she casts the veils of her personality aside, and shows you that she is both a human being and also a portal into something much greater than that. She shows you a wrath that is not hers, but all women’s. She shows you a patience that is also universal. She shows you her wisdom. At this point you start to experience the archetypes of women, who have been portrayed as goddesses and mythological figures in every tradition.

Then, at the very centre, in the innermost temple itself, all the layers of your devotion are flooded with reward all at once. You discover the very essence of the feminine, and in a strange way that is not exactly romantic, but profoundly sacred all the same, you realize that you could have got here with any woman if you had just been willing to pass through all the layers of initiation. Any woman is every woman, and every woman is any woman at the same time. When you love a woman completely, at the very essence of her being, this is the one divine feminine flame. It is what has made every woman in history beautiful. It’s the flame behind the Mona Lisa, and Dante’s Beatrice, and yes, also Penelope Cruz and Heidi Klum. You discover the magic ingredient which has lead every man to fall in love with a woman.

When you learn how to pay attention to the essence of the feminine in this way, you fall to the floor in full body prostration, tears soaking your cheeks and clothes, and you wonder how you could have ever taken Her, in all of Her forms, for granted even for a second…”

Full article here.

Hat

Every niche community has its own internal snobbery, and the BDSM scene is no exception. Competitive souls constantly debate who is and isn’t a “TWUE DOMME” or “TWUE SUB”, tangling themselves in rope, whips and the complex terminology of segregation in a bid to prove that everyone else is a comparative novice. The kinkier-than-thou are a staple contingent of the BDSM world.

It’s only natural, of course. People often find themselves seeking acceptance from their own marginalised groups by creating an elitist hierarchy within them: I’ve heard startlingly sweeping racist remarks from a number of first or second generation immigrants towards other ethnic minorities; as a bisexual woman, I’ve occasionally been ostracised by exclusively lesbian friends for dating men; and this weekend, at a fetish stall at Brighton Pride, Sarah Berry and I were prevented from buying a hat.

Yes, a hat! We were victims of hattism!

The hat itself was a leather one, a little like the beautiful Joanna Lark ones pictured below. Sarah has been looking for a leather hat that fits properly for ages, so when she saw the one hanging up at the “JDL For Leather”* stall on Saturday, she was thrilled. Taking out her wallet for the sixty-five quid it cost, Sarah reached up to try it on.

“Want a photo in a funny hat, do you?” the most counter-productive salesman in the world suddenly shouted from behind us.

“Actually I’d like to buy the hat,” said Sarah, bewildered at the stranger’s angry reaction.

“Yeah, yeah! I’ve heard it all before!” He spat. “You’re just taking the piss! Look at you!”

Now Sarah is no stranger to BDSM. She writes for, and edits, several magazines about the UK scene, and I tried to point this out to the stallholder over his sarcastic snarls. Yet he wasn’t convinced by my explanation or her appearance so became increasingly hostile.

“You just want a photo in the hat,” the man accused again, along with a generous shower of spittle. “You’re not a genuine customer!”

“I want to buy the hat,” Sarah answered calmly. “I go to fetish clubs.”

He scoffed. “Oh yeah? Which ones?”

She was then in the surreal position of having to justify her own worthiness to give him sixty-five quid, but patiently and obediently listed the clubs and events she regularly attends.

“You’re lying!” he yelled.

She sighed. There was no reasoning with him. “I just want to buy the hat.”

“You don’t!” he argued, veins bulging at the sides of his bald head. “Look at you! You just want to get a photo in it!”

It was like the famous scene in Pretty Woman where Julia Roberts is refused service in a designer boutique for looking too much like a prostitute – yet here, it appeared to be because Sarah didn’t look enough like a prostitute. This very angry man just couldn’t believe that a small woman in a pink cardigan could possibly want to buy a leather hat.

“Can I try the smaller size?” she pleaded, which seemed to rile him more.

After having listened to him rant about hat photos for nearly five minutes now, our friend Carolyn duly lost patience with him so whipped out her phone and took a deliberately provocative picture of Sarah trying on the hat.

The man turned purple from chin to crown.

“I knew it!” he roared.

“Can I try the smaller size?” asked Sarah again, ignoring the chaos.

“I knew it as soon as I saw you! You’re a fake! You don’t want the hat!”

“She wants the hat,” I reassured.

This was the point that Sarah gave up and hung her head.

“She doesn’t!” he bawled again.

“Let’s just leave it, okay?” Sarah put the hat into his hand and her wallet back into her pocket.

“See!” he squealed gleefully at our retreating backs. “I knew you wouldn’t buy it!”

*(yes, I know, I’m never one for naming or shaming people or companies, but I’m genuinely interested to know whether the man we encountered was having a bad day – were all his other customers that day real or perceived piss-takers? – or is he always such a complete shit to everyone who tries to buy his goods?)

Feedback Loop: Hypnosis Session

Occasionally, the way I indulge my urges – mainly rambling diatribes here, or acts of violence in sessions and fetish clubs – provoke interesting responses by email. With permission, I will post some of the best on the blog.

Here’s a lovely message I received from a gent called Jeff, in the aftermath of a session where I put him into a deep hypnotic trance:

“Well, I’ve had time to marinade in the wonderful fog you very kindly left me in.

First may i say, wow! Amazing! I could add numerous other superlatives, but i’d be in danger of appearing to be a creep.

Seriously, thank you so much for such a wonderful experience, which exceeded my expectations by some distance. I was very nervous when i arrived, but somehow when i met you a lot of the nerves subsided. This will be no surprise to you i’m sure, but you have amazing presence. Please forgive me, but my initial thoughts when i saw you were, “This unbelievably beautiful woman is going to hypnotise me” Felt like all of my Christmases at once.

The level of trance you took me too was such a thrill, i finally felt what it’s like to go as deep as i have desired for so long, thank you.”