The Night before Epiphany

I’m a church musician in my income-producing life. Tomorrow is the Feast of the Epiphany, King’s Day in Latin American countries, when three Wise Guys visit Jesus and tell Mary and Joseph to get out of Dodge. Epiphany=being revealed.

We use the word in more or less common speech to mean something we suddenly understand that we didn’t before.

Each day, or at least each week, it seems like, in the past two years I have had an epiphany about my sexual response, my relationships, being Dom, you name it…

My Princess Sparkettle says she keeps seeing me because each week when she comes over I’m different.

This past two weeks has been a major set of epiphanies. That I am her Daddy. That I am, and realize I have been for some time, totally secure in all my relationships, no jealousy etc. That I LIKE to flog and paddle and spank Pandora1a; BDSMtest.org results of 48% sadist are correct.

Tonight I am sleeping alone for the first time in two weeks. Sparkettle stayed over last night and then I saw Pandora1a this afternoon for a brief bit and I almost drove 100mph to get home and be alone in the quiet I have so carefully cultivated in my house.

Listening to what my body, mind, and heart require, and honoring that, it’s the final epiphany on this Eve of the Epiphany. Merry Christmas all! (it’s the end of the 12 days of Christmas tonight).

I’ve always been Dom

Like anything else in my life, I am finding that being Dom is an identity that I have always had but am discovering in greater depth as time goes on.

From the time I was first sexual, perhaps as early as 10 or 1, I found and avidly read some Victorian erotic novels that were hidden in our den behind other books. I don’t know if they were things my father read, or my mother…but the scenes of very sexual but repressed (usually young) women being tied up and having their desires awakened were formative in my sexual fantasies. Yeah, I know, feminists (myself included) will find the overall notion and implementation ugh. But it’s there deep down in me, now, the ownership/Dom/ master/Daddy fantasy…

I hid it a long time. In the Jaiya Blueprint world, of which I am a coach, kinky is defined as ‘whatever is kinky to you”. Jaiya tells the story of an older couple who were clients and for whom having sex in anything but missionary position was kinky. So, being Dom was hidden. I didn’t cultivate it, learn about it, or even know that growing and learning about my Dom was possible.

And, for many, many years, I was with women who shamed me for self-pleasuring. My mother also did, as was a common experience of men of my generation, the worst thing that could happen was ‘getting caught’ masturbating. So, because I had to do it clandestinely and it was forbidden by a succession of women I lived with or was married to, masturbation became kink. Once I left my second wife I lost interest, it wasn’t forbidden any more. Now I am having to consciously cultivate a self-pleasure practice to relearn how my body responds…

Would being Dom go away if society was totally open and accepting of the relationship? I leave you with that question….and am hoping for comments or discussion on this….

Poly Holidays

Scheduling three lovers for holiday time, especially when one is a LDR, gets interesting…

Here is how it played out:

Dec. 20-Dec. 21 with W
Dec. 22-Dec. 25 morning with C
Dec. 25 afternoon-Dec. 28 morning with W
Dec. 28 midday to Dec 31with J
Dec. 31 afternoon-Jan. 2 afternoon with W
Jan. 2 night and morning with J
tonight, Jan. 3, with W
tomorrow night, Jan. 4, with J
and so it goes….

I never feel like there is too much time with anyone. I am not missing having nights alone at this point, it has been lovely and relaxing to be with everyone. All the relationships deepened over this time.

Obviously this will taper off now as schedules return to more normality after the holidays..and, I would do it all again readily.

Dom and Daddy

Within a few months I have become both a Dom and a Daddy, which has set me to thinking about the difference.

There’s not any…

The difference is only that every relationship, and D/s ones are not any different, has it’s own dynamic based on the individuals involved.

At this point you would normally expect to read “because every person is different, every relationship between two people is different.” well, yeah. But…having now been a client of a very empathic and intuitive Somatic Experiencing therapist for almost two years, and having had some major breakthroughs and growth through this process, i would say instead, “Every relationship is different because each one evokes a different set of woundedness in us.”

Each of my lovers brings a different set of circumstances to our connection that opens different ways of my relating. One of the truisms of SE therapy is that wounds occur in relationship (most often to our mother, which plays out then in relationships with women). Each lover is to me also a different archetype: Wise Woman, Girl Next Door, Daughter, Wild Woman….

Each one pushes different buttons. One of my lovers I have known for a very long time has the position in my constellation of pushing the same buttons my ex-wife did. None of this is deliberate or conscious, but it’s my chance to heal, to grow, and to move ahead into more self-awareness.

As we enter a new year, I hope each of you reading this can step back and take a self-aware look at your relationships and find where the growth points are, own your own fuck-ups, and be compassionate not only to your partners but to yourself….

The Body Gathering

What if there were a church…

where every time we gathered we built from scratch a safe container of consent…
where no one was judged for who they are or how they express that truth…
where everyone was honored and supported in the place they are in life…
where we could talk openly about sex, gender, consent, pleasure, and relationships..
where the leaders were open and honest about their own struggles and challenges…
where you, you as a precious divine being, felt truly at home…
where we were engaged in the world, helping the least and lost, the marginalized, sex-positive, kink, and LGBTQAI+ communities…
where a connection to the divine Presence is more important than doctrine or belief….

Would you come to that church?

Would you support it’s mission?

I have, for some time now, been urged by my mentors and friends to find a way to integrate all the parts of my life: fully sexual heteroflexible polyamorous man, pastor, church musician/liturgist, social activist, and LGBTQIA+ ally. There is no church that would welcome me fully in all these parts of myself, even the most progressive ones. So I am going to start one, one that I would want to go to, where I would feel welcome in all my different life-bits.

I am in the process of forming a ‘church’ that will have a local San Antonio, TX real-world component and a virtual component.

Our focus will be to use ritual to heal ritual damages; to help everyone who has been shamed, traumatized, abused, or oppressed by the Church to find their path toward healing. Secondary focuses will be building community, sharing our wisdom, helping those who are living at the sexual margins work out real-world problems, and being a resource and safe haven for anyone being actively hurt because of their sexual orientation, gender expression, or kink.

If you are interested in this in any way, let’s talk.

becoming real

Some churches desire
to make disciples
I desire they allow the Divine
to pitch a tent in people’s hearts

Some men believe
being vulnerable is weak
I desire they learn
that self knowledge is true strength

Some women I love
let the past win
I desire that they
feel today’s breeze on their skin

Alive

I am alive.
I am in love and I am alive.
I am in love with three completely amazing women
and I am alive; I am a fully queer, bisexual, and polyamorous man
and I always have been, even when I denied that;
and for anyone denying some part of themselves,
out of fear or shame or guilt, I ask you to let that go,
and be fully your beautiful alive self.
While I write this I am sitting in my house, the house that once was the seat
of my marriage, which I never expected to end, which was
at least partly, good and happy, and partly terrible and anxious and scary
and I survived that and I am alive.
I am theologically educated, and desire to share
my direct experience of the Divine
and I have the tiny little degree card from seminary in my wallet
to prove that when I am talking to people in bars,
and in spite of everything wrong with religion I am alive.
I am a church musician who doesn’t give a flying fuck
about the church but who still wants,
when I can, to move your soul with beauty,
and I am alive most completely when I am making music.
I am an ally to everyone who is oppressed or shamed
for being sexual and alive
and in love with whoever they want to be in love with.
I have been kicked out of the church I served for 16 years
as a pastor for having sex as a single man
because they are so afraid of pleasure
that they can’t handle it except by controlling it
and for promoting false doctrine, which consists
of telling the world pleasure is our birthright, and I am alive.
I love women, everything about them, their feel and scent and kisses
and pussies and minds and hearts open to me, I am bi and have been,
more than once now, in deep like with a lovely man and I am alive.
I am alive all the way, in my skin and my muscles
and my fluids and my bones,
in where my energy starts at the root
and where it channels out the top of my head.
I am alive in this moment, right now,
and right now, and right now.
I have woken up from a deep 30 year sleep
of complacency and despair
and I am alive.
I am here right now, seeing each radiant one of you in your place
feeling your energy, feeling the world,
and I am no longer willing
to be asleep, to be half-dead;
and I want more than anything else in this world
for every one of you who is asleep
to wake the fuck up and be alive.
We are all alive
and if you have even one bit of passion
for your life and being alive
then you can’t help but have this same mission
to wake up the world.
I am, this whole past year,
for the first time maybe in my life,
here in the moment,
and in love, and in pleasure.
I am alive.

3 AM

I wake up at 3am.
It’s not the first time;
3:13 and I are well acquainted,
3:27 is an old friend.
I turn on the rain sound app,
fake thunderstorms on my beside table,
recorded rain on some other sidewalk.
My skin remembers other nights,
ones with yours against mine,
your hair across my chest, silken,
or was that her fingertips,
Pressing into my arm, barely tightening.
In the middle night, in the darkness,
all my lovers accumulate into memory;
my desire for you not exactly physical,
the connection between us not a function
of blood vessels engorging, but memory,
and in my mind’s eye,
I hear your pleasure, each moment of that,
reduced and concentrated into sweet syrup,
imagining all of you, together, heads on my single shoulder,
as rain rolls off my roof to the ground,
and sleep comes back, finally.
In the morning, eyes gritty,
I text each of you, one at a time,
Sweetheart, Beloved, Lover;
another day opens, another chance
to move closer to each of you,
and undo together all the past wounds
that make us think
there is any space at all between us.

Growing Large

increasingly, these words, fumbling
towards reality as they are,
cannot be simply about one love
even when they are;
all love is one, my loves
intertwined in my heart
so intimately with me
that each conjures the rest
thoughts of one leading inevitably
to thoughts of all;
so your head on my shoulder
and her head on my shoulder
are not the same but are,
and your desire for me
your desire to be only mine
at times, is her desire, and hers;
and even, at times, I would be
only yours, yet I am not,
and never really could be;
so, sitting here in another city
between work events, thinking,
about who I will next hold
my heart is thrice-filled
with all that each of you give me;
and I expand beyond these walls,
beyond this town, so that, for a moment
I touch each of your hearts together
and am at peace.

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