"If the violin is making awful sounds, it is generally not the violin's fault." - Anonymous
I heard someone say this at the Holy Fire Conference this year, and it has been rattling around in my brain ever since.
For whatever reason, it struck something deep within me. Maybe because I have spent so much of my life identifying with being of service. Maybe because I am a submissive. Maybe because, if I'm honest, I have spent years believing that if I was not thriving in a dynamic, it must somehow mean I wasn't trying hard enough.
I simply needed to be more obedient. More disciplined. More devoted. More patient. More submissive.
I needed to become a better violin.
In the Leather, BDSM, and Gorean communities, we often talk about service, growth, leadership, structure, and responsibility. We talk about the beauty of watching a submissive blossom under the guidance of someone who has taken on the responsibility of leading them. We celebrate when someone flourishes under a collar, becomes more confident in their service, and grows into the best version of themselves.
But what happens when they don't?
For the longest time, I believed the answer was simple: the submissive must not be trying hard enough. The older I get, however, the more I realize that human beings are far too complicated for that answer to ever be true.
Sometimes the violin isn't being played correctly. Sometimes the music being asked of it isn't what it was designed to create. Sometimes the strings are too tight. Sometimes they're too loose. Sometimes the room is too humid. Sometimes the musician is exhausted. Sometimes the violin has cracks that nobody knew were there. And sometimes, it is simply the wrong violin for that particular musician.
That doesn't make either one bad. I think we do ourselves a tremendous disservice when we approach power exchange dynamics with a need to determine fault. Someone has to be wrong. Someone has to be failing. Someone has to be the problem. Relationships are rarely that simple.
Sometimes a submissive is struggling because of unresolved trauma they haven't yet healed from. Sometimes a Dominant lacks the capacity to provide the leadership they desperately want to give. Sometimes boundaries aren't being communicated clearly. Sometimes needs have changed over time. Sometimes moral or philosophical differences become impossible to ignore. Sometimes communication slowly breaks down despite everyone's best intentions. And sometimes, a Dominant's leadership style and a submissive's submission style simply do not align. None of those things automatically make anyone a bad person. It simply makes us human.
This is something I have experienced more than once throughout my life, but especially within my current relationship dynamics.
Many of you know that I am in a polyamorous relationship with my Masters. For a very long time, our romantic relationship and our power exchange relationship existed side by side. Those two things felt inseparable to me. Today, they are not.
At this moment in our lives, we have ended our power exchange dynamic. Not because anyone stopped loving anyone. Not because there was some dramatic explosion or betrayal. Not because anyone failed. We simply do not currently have the capacity on either side of the slash to maintain the type of power exchange that all of us deserve. And that realization has been both heartbreaking and strangely beautiful.
It is heartbreaking because power exchange is not simply something I do, it is woven into the very fabric of who I am. It is beautiful because choosing to acknowledge when something isn't working is, in its own way, an act of love.
Right now, we are simply a romantic poly throuple. That sentence still feels strange to write.
This season of our lives is confusing for all parties involved. Damon, Calvin, and I are navigating what our relationship looks like without the structure that existed for so many years. We are learning one another all over again in some ways.
The truth is, I don't know what our future looks like. I don't know whether we will eventually return to a deeper power exchange dynamic. I don't know whether collars will once again find their place around my neck. I don't know what service will look like six months or two years from now.
What I do know is that life has been throwing an extraordinary amount of bullshark at all of us lately. We're stressed. We're exhausted. We're healing. We're preparing for a move. We're trying to survive while also figuring out who we are becoming. And that's okay.
Sometimes growth looks like leaning deeper into service. Sometimes growth looks like stepping away from it for a while. My hope is that once we've moved, settled into our new lives, and found our footing again, we will be able to revisit what a deeper connection and power exchange might look like for us.
Or perhaps we will discover something entirely new. Both possibilities are worthy of exploration.
What I am learning through all of this is that submission is not measured by how much suffering I can endure while pretending everything is fine. It is not measured by how tightly I cling to a title or a collar when the relationship underneath it is asking for care and attention. Submission can also be honesty. Submission can also be vulnerability.
Submission can also be saying, "This isn't working right now, and I love you enough to acknowledge that."
I am still a Leather person. I am still Gorean. I am still devoted to service. And even though I am not actively their slave or held beneath their collar today, Damon, and Clvin remain my entire world. I love them fiercely and deeply. I am, and always will be, loving and loyal to them. Titles may change. Dynamics may shift. Relationships evolve. Love remains.
And finally, perhaps the most important lesson I took away from that quote,
Sometimes a violin is broken. And sometimes the person holding the violin is not the one meant to fix it. Sometimes the violin needs to retire. Sometimes it simply needs to spend some time in the repair shop learning how to become whole again.
Therapy, healing, self reflection, and personal growth are not signs of failure. They are acts of stewardship over the instrument we have been entrusted with, ourselves.
No violin should be expected to produce beautiful music while its strings are frayed and its body is cracked. So if the music sounds awful, perhaps we should spend less time assigning blame and more time asking better questions.
Is the violin okay?
Is the musician okay?
Are they meant to create music together?
And what kind of song might they create once they've both had the opportunity to heal?
Sometimes, that question matters far more than who is at fault.