*disclaimer: If you have not read the first three blog posts in this series, please move backwards in time and do so. It will not make as much sense if you do not know why I am writing this. The first post in the series is: "Taken to Task". Thank you.
Need #3 to be seen, heard, understood
Some might opt to break these three into separate needs, but for me it is all part of one fluid process.
". . . it is not uncommon for masters to pride themselves on the depth with which they know their slave girls; this depth is far greater in my opinion than that with which the average husband of Earth knows his wife; the slave girl is not simply someone with whom the man lives; she is very special to him; she is a treasured possession; he owns her; he wants to know, profoundly and deeply, the background, history, the mind, the intelligence, the appetites, the nature and the dispositions of his lovely article of property;..." ~Tribesmen of Gor Book 10 Page 42
My hubris (okay one of them) is that I'm well aware of my own intelligence. I will not "one true way" things, so yes, there are plenty of submissives and slaves out there that are truly desirous of having no say in their life. Of being simply told what to do, and being allowed to be mindless. Bless them. I am not among their ranks. I crave the knowledge that my Master holds me completely and entirely. Knows all of me. Knows my past and my present so he can best chart a path forward to the future. He knows my fears and doubts... those tapes that play on in the back of my mind, knows where those demons came from and then can best know how to tame them. Knows the things that I am proud of, and does not feel intimidated by them or feel the need to blow my candle out to make his shine brighter, rather knows that my successes are feathers in his own cap.
In order to get there is a tried and true path... you have to see someone, all of them. The things that are easy to show, and then the things they are afraid or hurt to expose. I need you to see it all. I need you to HEAR me, not just the words I say, but the words of my heart, the things that words fail to express. The things body language and breath express best. The things that are said when you know what every expression truly means. When you know exactly what a tight lipped smile means vs when my teeth show. Hear not what you are afraid I am saying, or what someone in the past meant when they said "ABC". Then I need you to use all of your wisdom and intellect as well as your own heart and soul to understand me.
Someone important to me has been pounding it into my thick skull that "we do not see others how they are, we see them how we are. "~ Anais Nin.
They drove the idea home that very often we paint onto others words the inflections, backgrounds, intentions, and meanings we either: wish to see, or are afraid to see. Both are equally as likely. It is very hard for people to stop writing their own narratives over situations and experiences and accept them for the truth of what the other party is offering based upon the totality of themselves.
What does it look like when I'm seen, heard, and understood?
I received a box once upon a time... inside it were a few very special and important items... i will only discuss one: Inside was a shirt inside a ziplock double lock bag. The shirt I had seen worn for weeks and weeks. I knew the minute i saw it inside the plastic bag exactly what it was. Only last week did I take the shirt out of the bag entirely. Over the last year i have just opened one tiny corner of the bag to touch it, or smell it, or hold it close inside the bag. Last week, i took it out of the bag, buried my face in it and cried harder than I have in two years. The shirt, and everything else in the box which was entirely unprompted made me feel very seen, heard, and understood.
I received a message from someone else entirely different at one point... it was in reply to a message I sent answering some questions. The person had asked questions on an open forum, and they were incredibly thoughtful, deep, and thought provoking. I wrote back with the depth they deserved. What I received back was the single greatest piece of writing I've had the honor of receiving. The man wrote me about a shirt of his own he loved. He wrote me fully 6 pages of different experiences that this shirt saw him through, and how it was a memento of all of those times. It ended with telling me how he would never have another time to say, "perhaps i love this shirt best because" for it is buried along with a part of my heart... and shared that hurt with me. I have rarely ever felt so well met and on even ground.
a Dominant of mine who did me great hurt, and I did him equally... came back to me one day and asked me for A DAY. One day to get it all right where we got it wrong. One day to replace all the shit we had been through. One day to hang onto. Fuck I loved that man. In that day; he put me in his pocket and carried me around. He tucked me in for the only second time he EVER did, and actually stuck around until I fell asleep. He read me a story that he wrote himself, which I still have entirely memorized. The most important moment came at lunch when he called me for the first time in countless months. I sat in an empty classroom where he told me he was proud of me and I again cried, not ugly broken tears, but deeply needed healing ones. I did not cry when he told me he loved me. I did not cry when he told me he missed me. I cried when he told me he was proud of me. Those were the words my soul most longed to hear.
That day I felt, seen, heard, and understood.
A Master who was incredibly special and important in my life never had to have me explain myself. He always knew. The pocket didnt come a year into a broken relationship. "I'm proud of you" and "I love you" were not so foreign as to cause tears when heard. Rather he felt like he always knew me, because at one point of time, he was me. This was never better shown than how I felt the first time he spoke softly to me and pulled my little put from under every blanket and pillow she had been hiding under ... where I didnt even know she lived. It shocked him every bit as much as it shocked me. I felt very much seen, heard, and understood.
~The Velveteen Slave
will add music once the workers who are installing my porch covering are gone. <3
Needs Series Index:
Taken to Task: https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=60944&postid=33947
#1 Time: https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=60944&postid=33971
#2 Growth: https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=60944&postid=34002
#3 Seen, Heard, Understood: https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=60944&postid=34083
#4 Safety & Consistency: https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=60944&postid=34741
#5 R.E.S.P.E.C.T: https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=60944&postid=35049
#6 Love: https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=60944&postid=35678
#7 Acceptance: https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=60944&postid=35883
Finale: The tamed to the Tamer: https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=60944&postid=36310
Follow up: The Gauntlet: EARN ME! https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=60944&postid=36373