A long time ago the son of Frank Lloyd Wright designed a church of glass. I’ve mentioned this a million times but there is this thought that God is actually in light, indeed He IS light. I always thought that by going to this church made of glass I would somehow feel closer to Him.
I've talked a million times about how I never feel safe, about how my entire life I have lived in fear, how I know I will be hurt, how I know I will be forgotten.
I have long feared my comparison with a siren. With a girl stranded that somehow is able to draw men in but in the process brings them down, makes me them drown. For some reason it seems easy for men to tell me: they love me, they are interested in me, they find me unique. But I know the truth. I know I am average in every way, I know that they want to see me sing. I know they’ll all sail away and never remember who I was.
A little while back it was brought to my attention that one of my friends lives is changing drastically, for the better. I wanted so much to be happy for him but I know that his victory comes from hurting me. I know what I went through while he grabbed something that meant everything to me and nothing to him. I'll retell the story in the only way that will work for this. This guy don and I had decided to do this epic trip together to Barcelona. It meant so much to me. I had been looking forward to it for a very long time but had been nervous and had been talking to him about it a lot. About how I was frightened it wouldn’t work out. About how I wanted to go with him because I didn’t think I could do it on my own. I was so nervous but so excited. First trip with someone since evan and all. I was thrilled as we planned it-it was our time to get to know each other, be with each other. But. As things go. Somewhere along the line he told me he didn’t really want to go with me anymore that his life had become too busy. Anyway so turns out, he just bought tickets to go with a girl named sarah who has family over there. Months pass and him and I haven’t spoken much in recent days. I want to be happy for him. I’m trying. But yes, I’m jealous. For a number of reasons. And hurt. For several others. Last night he came over and I was visibly upset to see him so he left but came back while I was talking to someone else. Don started talking about the trip. The guy I was with asked how it came up, what made him want to go, how he decided to do it, etc. don responded 'well I had been looking for someone to go with and then when I found sarah was going back I just it was perfect!' single-ish.
In a moment I became invisible. In a moment I disappeared. I have long since one some level thought that if I wasn’t in front of someone I didn’t exist to him. Long since wondered if the reason we fear the dark is because God is no longer there. Because He can no longer reach us. I became extinct.
I feel people when they kiss me. I feel they’re interest as they hear me, see me react. I feel it as this odd cycle I cant understand but watch over and over. It’s me you know. There’s something in me that does this.
I have spent a very long (and annoying) conversation trying to explain what I would be able to offer someone in a D/s relationship. The man I was talking to was comparing things that I don’t do with the typical D/s dynamic. Talking about cooking, cleaning, etc. for me those are nothing. For me those aren’t being a submissive. But then I have rather strong views.
I was young when I started this life style. I was younger than most when I had my first M/s relationship. I was 15. I would spend hours thinking about being a slave long before I had ever kissed a boy. I lived in a world that never existed but I perfected it. There’s a reason I ask questions often. It’s important to me to get it right, to make sure I do it right. I have worked exceptionally hard on my half, I can live up to it, and I can live up to being the slave I want to be. It’s not the one people are looking for. I know how to react when someone pulls my hair. I know how to sound when someone grabs me. But I know a lot more than that. Most people within the first time of meeting me will tell me three things: I’m beautiful, I’m smart, and I’m interesting. All of those are far less right and far truer than people understand.
The part of me that is beautiful is hidden. I’m not opposed to showing it I just get hurt often and take things slower now. But I still am me. I still will fight till the end of time for what’s right. I will stay be the person who moves the body of the dead bird from the road. I am still the person will let myself be injured if it means someone else gets something they need. I am terribly smart. I do initially come across as smart-ish but as people get to know me they have to see how ditzy I am. I can be dumb. You do not even want to know some of the stupid, stupid things I have done. But I also am more capable then people ever give me credit. I watch more than people know. I’m interesting at first because people don’t see girls like me who haven’t had sex. Women in a kink community who don’t believe in sex. I’m interesting because I haven’t ever learned polite conversation so just say what I think. Those things are all just oddities that mean nothing. I’m interesting because of how I think and what I believe and the connections my mind forms between those.
Wright’s church is this narrow pathway of glass that takes you up to the alter. It is grounded in that brown that was popular at the time that I can only assume he argued brought in the natural element. Truth is, the color distracts. It pulls the eye to the ground, away from the heavens. So even though that church is beautiful, its what it is trying and failing to show off that is the true beauty.
I read this article recently that put forth this idea, it is an old idea that I simply am unfamiliar with, that basically lays out that people came up with religion when they recognized that they were part of a species but not perfect. Essentially, the claim is that a person sees that there is someone out there who is the same as him, related to him, but different but that neither is perfect. What happens then is that out of this discrepancy the idea of God is formed. God then is the perfect version of this overlapping similarity between the two. Does that make sense? Now, long since this had been postulated it has come to light that religious site came about BEFORE communities which then means that people came together for the sake of worship, not the other way around I am very interested in this idea.
I am curious about how I formed my version of God. What did I see that I was missing that I used to help round of my version of the man behind the pearly gates? And when did I do this? Is that even how we still do this or has the development of the organized church etc. killed this?
I still see that church on the hill and see the beauty of the glass, the vaulted ceilings but those pews with the red bible covers flashing neon signs to learn of the Lord, to learn God's word. They pull away from the God that the windows opened up.
But we lose that. We start off with these intentions. The sky, the light, God. And we lose that. We lose this hope, this goal of somehow reaching that perfection. And we become entrapped by the rugs, the pews, the candles. The role of tradition such that is mandates we have these things. These things are required. And we go on. And we forget. We buy the tickets to Barcelona and forget why we wanted to go. We hear these songs from a beach and they sound so beautiful, and the water looks calm and it looks like it will be an easy trip. At some point we turn around and leave. Far as I know, no one ever wants back to save the sirens. Everyone wants that relationship. That D/s dynamic is valuable here. Everyone has an idea of what it should look like. Of how best to show that this is who you are. For some it’s a collar. For some it’s keeping perfect house. For some it is simply saying it over and over and over again to anyone that will listen, sharing the same stories as proof. To others it’s the mark of a bruise. Mine is hard because mine is only proven internally. I have worked so hard to ensure that my body will do, as it should. For those who don't know, I trained myself to flinch when I was young. I was never in danger of someone hitting me but I trained myself to do it. It got me what I deserved. I lost evan after he beat me up. So long looking at the dust around the cross we miss the sun setting and rising.
I have long told the story of my friend daniel. The only one to accurately describe me: she has never felt safe in her entire life. Eduardo has been kind enough to let me stay at his place while he is on a business trip to Niagara Falls. It occurred to me last night for the first time in weeks of doing this why I enjoyed it. I felt a bit safer. When I had to describe my safe hour last year I ventured a small fortress on an island that was made of heavy stone with small windows so I could see if anyone was coming. I felt safer at Eduardo’s though. Now I know why. No one knew I was there. They couldn’t get to me. They couldn’t hurt me. I could hide and not exist for a while. I could make myself disappear without the pain of someone removing me, killing me. I could hide and they couldn't attack me. I could disappear and they wouldn't stand next to me and say they forgot me. I didn’t have to worry about who was coming in the doors; I could look up to the heavens myself. My fortress didn’t need to be of heavy stone. It could be as light, as honest, as glass, as air, because I was invisible. Because I was light.
On the side of the Seattle Art Museum is a quote that I have fallen in love with: Can beauty be absolutely free from time, space, and context?
In my mind, I run through the sunsets I see over the ocean-maybe beauty can be free of context then. The eye sees light in a certain way and the blending of colors is beautiful. I hear stories of the beauty of childbirth-maybe beauty can be free of space then. And the timeless? Oh, but my favorite. Tragedy.
Light can sweep us all away. The oceans will erase all our trace. That church will fall away. And no one will remember. I will die and my bones will be buried, marked for fifty years at most. But, four hundred years, everyone will still be able to relate to a glass fortress, and everyone will know the beauty and that pain.
By the way, in case you were wondering. It's the idea that this pain wont ever go away. Because even as I type, the only safety I have come close to feeling was just given away. Lucy is coming back. Luckily, i just spend hours removing any trace that i had ever existed. I helped forget me. I erased me. Because i just lost my only place to hide. I guess all light disappears to the night. I wished i lived in light. I need my fortress, i need the heavy stones and the breaking waves. I dont have anywhere else to disappear.
By the way, in case you were wondering. It's the idea that this pain wont ever go away. Because even as I type, the only safety I have come close to feeling was just given away. Lucy is coming back. Luckily, i just spend hours removing any trace that i had ever existed. I helped forget me. I erased me. Because i just lost my only place to hide. I guess all light disappears to the night. I wished i lived in light. I need my fortress, i need the heavy stones and the breaking waves. I dont have anywhere else to disappear.
