A moment and then another

He leads not with conventional commands and correction, not with authority and righteousness, but with grace, respect and dignity.

He simply inspires me.

Consistently meeting me where I am at, he gently whispers words of wisdom, words of attentiveness, and lights me up with careful crafting.

Secure in his creation and my devotion, his pleasure in my sensuality and desirability pervade.

He is holy, so I place him on a pedestal and kneel beneath, gazing in wonder, bemused that he exists, bemused by the beauty of creation, in awe of what I cannot conceive but am privileged to encounter.

Naturally, I am drawn to his magnetism, his quiet power, his knowing.

I can do nothing but follow with heart, with a deep yearning to be worthy of his attention, presence and pride.

He is the reminder that I am worthy, full of beauty and love to dote.

And with such a gift, such blessings, duty that is bound by soul - destined and archaic. Alchemy.

And I just hung out my washing…

Out of my control. Guess, I will just roll with it 💦🦦

Musings inspired by the first episode of this year’s The Minefield podcast series for Ramadan. Listening to this series every year since 2020 has nourished my mind and soul.

The heart.

I didn’t consider it much before. I was fascinated by all sorts of states, sensations, concepts and ways of being. Brains, and wiring, and the gut, and connections, and energy, and the soul.

But I never contemplated the heart, not as the centre, the core, the nucleus of the body and spirit.

The heart is a vessel. The body’s expression of the soul; it speaks for the soul, and when cultivated - tended to - it’s a conduit to the world and to the divine.

The heart - the circular-sensory system, the sensory experience before thought. The voice of the soul.

The beating of the heart is the rhythm of shared life. These pulsing sound waves forge visible and invisible landscapes.

The heart is a muscle, and in good metaphor form, it requires conditioning. In loving and learning, humility and grace, in being torn down and cultivated again with more beauty and strength.

The process of opening one’s heart and the practice of keeping those pathways open is the art of a lifetime.

The divine - the ocean, the deep pool, the river beneath the river - where intuition mingles with the ancient laws, is carried by the soul to its vessel in the body: the heart. The heart carries intention and desire as it beats, sending sounds and vibrations out into the atmosphere. It carries knowing from the deep.

So when it is said, ‘listen to your heart’, it takes a particular kind of practice, the practice of listening, positioning yourself to hear, not for understanding, but for feeling, for knowing, which is often lost in the cacophony of noise.

To keep an open heart is to be wired to the world; it is the practice of listening and speaking from the soul.

One of my faves and so timely…

"Don't touch it, Kitten!"

Standing naked in the kitchen with her head jammed inside the fridge, she imagined how her ass looked from the front door. Her pussy, swollen with aching need, cursed her stupid, arrogant ways and decided that this bitch was going to pay.

The head in the fridge spoke back, “I was just making a point; I didn’t think he would ban our play for that excruciating length of time.” With these words, frustrated disappointment echoed from white plastic and rested in her ear. The desire to touch herself became painfully unbearable. She summoned the last of her reserves to focus on the cool air touching her face rather than the fire burning in the lower half of her body. Still the flashes of her ass and pussy getting ravaged persist.

She attempts conversing with her pussy once again, only to be ignored, “I cannot take this anymore. I need to tie my hands or I really will be sorry, and not the good kind of sorry.” Her voice wavered from the teasing melody it usually carried – she really was desperate.

It was a nice idea but she was frozen, immobile with the fear of desperation. For she immediately thought of going straight to the chair and sitting on her two favourite dildos. The fire inside was raging and at least the fridge was keeping it at bay. It must be so late, she thought, and wondered when he was going to return and alleviate this burning desire so carefully engineered.

Frozen in carnal indecision, it was now a matter of life or death.

Her cunt needed to be fed.

It was just like him to walk in at that moment. Of course, he stopped and breathed this fine moment deeply in. This was not going to be easy for her. She needed to think carefully to get what she wanted – needed.

He feigned pity as he watched her writhe with unrelenting lust, carnal desperation to have him take her and relieve her of this base need. She knew he would not be so easily tempted. He knew she held many reserves of determined grit. They both knew she led him willingly to her chosen demise. She had taken her punishment with grace unsurpassed; he was alive with pride. But he could never have even conceived such an engaging and perfect finale!

His blood boiled with the sight, smell and heat in the air; he struggled to control those urges of frantic hunger.

“Please Sir,” she said meekly. “Please, I need you to make me cum.”

“In time kitten,” he said with the air of patient, unconcerned composure. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you suck my cock, then we’ll see.”

She breathed out with a forced sigh as she held back the rage inside her.

My Heart. My Salvation. My Bliss ✨

Luckiest 🌻

So much longing 

Just to be

Take a moment

Instead of frustration and self-pity, enjoy the

Forever yearning

Remember, grace is a state of mind embodied

So beautifully dynamic, soft and subtle, wild and free, so careless and so controlled.

utterly feminine, giving way to abandonment and sensation, safe in submission amidst animal chaos. Mesmerised and mesmerising. In ecstasy.

Built this Babylon city. A kaleidoscope. I’ll take this moment and add it to the collection - another soul song to sing.

And now, to shift, back to duty, with my secret superpower stored safely.

ssshh 🤫✨

I have been thinking again, about new art concepts/works that extend on previous ideas and bodies.

Much has been about the interplay of environment and self - varying scapes: water, sky, land, psyche, body, often landscape being a representation of what I am experiencing internally.

I came across this passage from ‘Journals of Love and Literature’ in their call for submissions. I will not submit as the conditions for entry are unsuitable. However, the passage has awakened ideas. (Yes, that is a pun)

Metamorphosis is the quiet and violent act of becoming. It is shaped by ruptured, growth, decay and rebirth. Who is the self that we shed, and which form do we inhabit next? This issue invites reflection on change, whether chosen, forced, or awakened. What have you outgrown, and what has outgrown you?

The description of metamorphosis as “the quiet and violent act of becoming” brought about so many visions - old and new. Pathways in my brain linked ideas and images.

In my own transformations, a notable aspect of discovery and growth is my femininity and that connection to earth, nature and the universe. Being “wired to the world” (Goldfrapp). In my art, I have touched on these concepts but I am thinking about ways to explore my experience in becoming a woman, the connectedness and the body/psyche through landscape (and other scapes).

It’s so exciting to think of the possibilities.

The other ideas that hold strong for me, which are more about technique and representation are: portraying a sense of depth and illusiveness (haziness, mist, light, delicate, unattainable, mystery). 

Goldfrapp 🌫️✨

We don’t know what we don’t know until we know.

What does it take to know?

What does it take to know someone deeply?

How deep is someone’s soul?

That depends.

She doesn’t know the depths of her soul, she hasn’t learned, she cannot see herself in truth.

How did it get to be that she could not see the expanse of ocean deep within her?

Her depths are weighted with discourse so beyond a new mind. She is full of notions of what she is and at the same time, so empty. So empty, hungry and desperate.

And so confused.

They always say how much “potential” she has. If she would just…

But what do you do with potential if you don’t have the clarity, skills, resources, structure or discipline and cannot properly see or believe in this “potential”?

You find comfort in punishment and destruction - proof you are not worthy, proof you do not belong. Why try when it seems so beyond you? When outcomes reinforce your hateful self-view?

If you are lucky, you get a glimmer. And hopefully that glimmer shows you something, and then something more. You listen.

You let the light in. Rip yourself open - it’s painful as hell. You are raw. Exposed. Not this vulnerability for others, but for you and your part in the world. It hurts. You have to show up again and again. In your worst state, you have to show up.

But it’s worth it. Because you start to see your strength, your influence. You start to hear your depth. You start to know, a deep knowing that drives you. You start to believe in your worth.

This has gravitational pull.

To attract what you need - not what you expect - but alas, you are open enough to let them in. They see your vastness, they see the light of your soul and they just want to see you shine. Your flourishing is their flourishing. Together, you thrive. And shine you do.

You haunt me - in the way that drives me crazy with all this longing and having to remain. I still wonder if you’re human. Or if you “fell down from the sky”.

Do you believe in angels? Or guiding lights? Or co-creation? Do you believe in things that are beyond conception?

There are moments I forget that you are human. You just know and just see. There is a flow that runs through you. I can let go and know that I am held, guided, blessed.

What is this design? By accident or divine? By subconscious creation?

You will never know but you know.

It must be an art. The art of living multiple realities and shifting seamlessly. The time and care that it takes to cultivate is the art of a lifetime. This is a language of practice, awareness and devotion.

Remember. To carve out space. To make those pathways easily accessible. To practice. So that walking with angels is like breathing - it just happens.