Here for me this time around

Hard need at my back

Hot breath promises in my ear 

Strong claim wrapped around me

Will relinquished 

Softness offered up

Home at last

Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you
Turnin' in circles, confusion is nothing new
Flashback, warm nights, almost left behind
Suitcase of memories
Time after sometimes you picture me
I'm walking too far ahead
You're calling to me
I can't hear what you've said
You say go slow, I fall behind
The second hand unwinds

After my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray
Watching through windows, I'm wondering if you're okay
You say go slow, I fall behind
The drum beats out of time
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting
Time after time
If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting
Time after time oh, oh, oh
Time after time
Time after time oh, oh, oh
Time after time
Time after time

 Funny how, out of the blue, a random song hits and topples all of the progress made. The anger is gone, but the longing remains.  Is it real or just missing what was good about us?  Move forward or stay in the past? Am I waiting? Will it change anything anyway? 

In Homer’s Odyssey, Circe lives alone on an island. She is skilled, intelligent, self-sufficient. Men arrive at her door expecting hospitality and dominance. Instead, she gives them wine laced with magic and turns them into pigs.

For centuries, that transformation has been read as punishment. The dangerous woman. The emasculator. The seductress who strips men of power.

But look closer.

Circe does not hunt men. They come to her. They enter her space, consume what she offers, assume control. And suddenly they are revealed as what they already are—greedy, impulsive, ruled by appetite. The spell doesn’t create the pig. It exposes it.

What terrifies patriarchal storytelling is not that Circe is evil. It’s that she is autonomous. She lives without a husband. She commands knowledge traditionally coded as forbidden—herbalism, potions, transformation. She controls who stays human and who does not. She negotiates with Odysseus as an equal once he proves he cannot be easily subdued.

For women, Circe becomes a mirror.

She represents the fear society projects onto women who refuse submission. A woman with boundaries is called cold. A woman with power is called dangerous. A woman who refuses to soothe male ego is branded monstrous. “She turned him into a pig” becomes shorthand for “She took away his dominance.”

But there is another reading.

Circe is not destroying men. She is demanding accountability. She is the embodiment of consequence. Enter her world carelessly, and you will be transformed by it.

#Mythology #FeministMyth #WomenAndPower #Circe #RewritingTheNarrative

INTERESTING READ THIS MORNING 

I ventured outside for a hike today.   The weather has finally warmed up a bit and the 16 inches of snow is mostly gone. Lately my mood has been as bleak as this winter has been. I’ve kept my head down and just survived.

I’ve wondered if my journey in this lifestyle is come to an end. I don’t know that I have it in me to try again or that I want to, but the hollow feeling is gone now. I think that’s a good sign.

Maybe, just like these flowers, I am just waiting for the spring. 

A girlfriend came over the other day to help me move wood for a laundry room project. When she showed up I was working on duplicating this picture. Before I thought about it, I said “hold on a moment, I need to go get some clothes pins out of my bedroom.”   🫣

Her: why do you have clothes pins in your bedroom?

🦗🦗🦗🦗

“What did you think about when you took your nightly picture?”, was one of many unexpected questions I was asked during an early morning conversation I had with a friend. I was quiet for a long moment as I thought back to a time when I was given the task of taking a submissive pose and sending a picture to my Dom. 

Taking a submissive pose was meant to please my Dom and while I believe it did just that, there was so much more to it for me. It was the time of day that everything faded away but Him. It was my physical showing of my vulnerability and devotion to the man that cared for me and understood me. 

 I could have quickly posed and snapped the picture and been done with the task, but I took my time with the routine of it. I usually bathed and got ready for bed beforehand. I shed my responsibilities and  washed the day’s chaos away.  I would slip into a silk nightie or a sheer lace robe.  I knelt and closed my eyes and pictured Him sitting in front of me. 

Taking my time and being completely present in the task made me feel close to Him and I loved that short amount of time that was set aside for me to focus on just Him.  

PSA for this of us who need as much help as we can get in not embarrassing ourselves in text.  🤣

It’s time for Christmas to be put away and I get a chuckle every year as I take the penis ornament off of my tree. No one has noticed it in the three years that it has been front and center on the tree…..maybe it’s too small?   🫣😂

Have a great New Year’s Eve, I know I will!