Master and Submissive, Part One; The Tale of the Samurai
Most children go through a difficult phase, when, made irritable by puberty and all the change around them, they become unnecessarily contrary and disobedient. I am proud to say that I went through this phase early in My life, in early Middle School as opposed to High School, and that it lasted rather briefly. The credit for this, however, must go to My Father, who, in his wisdom, managed to snap Me out of this phase in but one evening.
One evening, I was speaking with My Father, and he was asking Me about My day. I was having some trouble in one of My classes, and I blamed the teacher as I told him about it.
My Father attempted to show Me the error of My ways. Turning to Me, he said, "Anastasia, your problem is that you have a low self-esteem, and you blame everyone else. The right way," he told me, "is to have a high self-esteem, and to always blame yourself." By this, he meant, always take responsibility for everything that you can. He then proceeded to tell Me the story that changed My perspective forever.
"Once upon a time," he began, "there lived a Samurai." My Father had a great fondness for ancient Japan, and referred to it often. "He was a rich Samurai, a rarity, and he lived on a small estate with his wife and children and servants and their respective families. One day, the Emperor was to visit him." At this point in time, My Father took a sip of his coffee and muttered something about a land dispute, or some other arbitrary reason for the Emperor to come to call. "Anyways," he continued, "this visit was very important, because if the Emperor was displeased in any way, if any aspect of his visit was anything less than perfect, the Samurai and his wife and his children and all of his servants and their respective families would be put to death, the cattle all slaughtered, the estate burned, and the ground salted. All that biblical type wrath. The visit was tremendously important, and no mistake could be made.
"The Samurai began to prepare for the visit the moment he knew of it. He visited his cattle, went out to buy new additions, walked through his vegetable garden, preformed an inventory check, and made sure that everything was ready. The week before the Emperor's arrival, the Samurai checked all of the cattle, made sure that that those to be used for meat were slaughtered, that the fish was caught, that the sheets and rugs and curtains were available, that the staff was ready and prepared. The day of the Emperor's visit, the Samurai woke up with the rooster, and walked through the house. He made sure that the rice was washed and being cooked, that the fish was being prepared, that the fruits and vegetables were perfect and being washed, that the sheets and curtains and rugs were clean, that the tables and panels were polished, that the servants were well dressed and presentable. He bathed and double checked everything, and when he was finished, an amazing calm descended on him." My Father paused. He seemed to be searching for the proper words.
"The Samurai's face relaxed, his brow smoothed. His demeanor was as tranquil as a still lake at dawn, his eyes calm, his shoulders back, a smile of self assurance playing on his lips. He was, every inch, at ease. His adviser, best friend, and most trusted servant, saw this, and did not understand. 'Why are you so calm, sir? Are you not concerned about the Emperor's visit? The trial is not over, you and your family are not yet safe. Why so relaxed?'"
At this point in time, My Father paused again, this time clearly for effect. He looked at Me and asked if I knew what the Samurai said, and, of course, I did not.
"'It's in God's hands now,' replied the Samurai. 'I have done all I can.'"
My Father wanted Me to understand that there is always something I can take responsibility for. It may not be My fault that it rains, but it is My responsibility to bring an umbrella. It may not be My fault that I have no money, but it is My responsibility to pay rent. It may not be My fault that a relationship is not working out, but it is My responsibility to fulfill My part of it.
This is a principle I have lived by for years. Everything is My fault, regardless of how unreasonable everyone else may be -- it is My responsibility to meet their expectations, no matter how inconvenient it is, of how ungrateful they may be. Living this way has drawbacks, of course -- I tend to give people more second, third, fourth and fifth chances than they deserve. I have been hurt many times, but that is My fault for trusting the wrong people. This is a sacrifice I make happily, risking the chance of pain for a chance to salvage my relationships.
Recently, I have not been doing My best, in a lot of respects. Specifically, I am referring to My relationship with My Master and Lover. It is a new relationship, and a serious one, and a very difficult one. The dynamic is not one I am used to and completely comfortable with, and, like most folk, I have some emotional baggage and intimacy phobias.
I am not taking full blame for the shortcomings of My relationship. My partner has not been perfect. However, I also know that I have not been perfect either, and it is My responsibility to be so. If the Emperor were to be displeased, despite all the Samurai had done, it would have been tragic, but unavoidable. The Samurai would have done his best, and what happened after would have been out of his control, and that was it.
I must mend My ways. I must do My best -- luck favors the bold, God helps those who help themselves, no? Things have been falling down around Me, and instead of holding them up, I have been complaining. I resolve now, not for the New Year, but for Myself and My Master-Lover, to give this relationship in particular and everything in general, My absolute best effort. To take full responsibility for anything that might go wrong, to look at every situation and find where I went wrong. To do better.
Having said all this, I am well aware that if I begin again, if I make a true effort to not fight, to make him happy, to get along and be a good Lover and Submissive, there is still no guarantee that everything will work out. It is perfectly possible that in a month's time, I will still be miserable and we will still be fighting and either I shall have to leave him, or he will leave Me. This does not matter -- the journey is important here, not the destination. I must do this, if only to do this. I must try again, regardless of how hopeless the situation seems to Me.
One evening, I was speaking with My Father, and he was asking Me about My day. I was having some trouble in one of My classes, and I blamed the teacher as I told him about it.
My Father attempted to show Me the error of My ways. Turning to Me, he said, "Anastasia, your problem is that you have a low self-esteem, and you blame everyone else. The right way," he told me, "is to have a high self-esteem, and to always blame yourself." By this, he meant, always take responsibility for everything that you can. He then proceeded to tell Me the story that changed My perspective forever.
"Once upon a time," he began, "there lived a Samurai." My Father had a great fondness for ancient Japan, and referred to it often. "He was a rich Samurai, a rarity, and he lived on a small estate with his wife and children and servants and their respective families. One day, the Emperor was to visit him." At this point in time, My Father took a sip of his coffee and muttered something about a land dispute, or some other arbitrary reason for the Emperor to come to call. "Anyways," he continued, "this visit was very important, because if the Emperor was displeased in any way, if any aspect of his visit was anything less than perfect, the Samurai and his wife and his children and all of his servants and their respective families would be put to death, the cattle all slaughtered, the estate burned, and the ground salted. All that biblical type wrath. The visit was tremendously important, and no mistake could be made.
"The Samurai began to prepare for the visit the moment he knew of it. He visited his cattle, went out to buy new additions, walked through his vegetable garden, preformed an inventory check, and made sure that everything was ready. The week before the Emperor's arrival, the Samurai checked all of the cattle, made sure that that those to be used for meat were slaughtered, that the fish was caught, that the sheets and rugs and curtains were available, that the staff was ready and prepared. The day of the Emperor's visit, the Samurai woke up with the rooster, and walked through the house. He made sure that the rice was washed and being cooked, that the fish was being prepared, that the fruits and vegetables were perfect and being washed, that the sheets and curtains and rugs were clean, that the tables and panels were polished, that the servants were well dressed and presentable. He bathed and double checked everything, and when he was finished, an amazing calm descended on him." My Father paused. He seemed to be searching for the proper words.
"The Samurai's face relaxed, his brow smoothed. His demeanor was as tranquil as a still lake at dawn, his eyes calm, his shoulders back, a smile of self assurance playing on his lips. He was, every inch, at ease. His adviser, best friend, and most trusted servant, saw this, and did not understand. 'Why are you so calm, sir? Are you not concerned about the Emperor's visit? The trial is not over, you and your family are not yet safe. Why so relaxed?'"
At this point in time, My Father paused again, this time clearly for effect. He looked at Me and asked if I knew what the Samurai said, and, of course, I did not.
"'It's in God's hands now,' replied the Samurai. 'I have done all I can.'"
My Father wanted Me to understand that there is always something I can take responsibility for. It may not be My fault that it rains, but it is My responsibility to bring an umbrella. It may not be My fault that I have no money, but it is My responsibility to pay rent. It may not be My fault that a relationship is not working out, but it is My responsibility to fulfill My part of it.
This is a principle I have lived by for years. Everything is My fault, regardless of how unreasonable everyone else may be -- it is My responsibility to meet their expectations, no matter how inconvenient it is, of how ungrateful they may be. Living this way has drawbacks, of course -- I tend to give people more second, third, fourth and fifth chances than they deserve. I have been hurt many times, but that is My fault for trusting the wrong people. This is a sacrifice I make happily, risking the chance of pain for a chance to salvage my relationships.
Recently, I have not been doing My best, in a lot of respects. Specifically, I am referring to My relationship with My Master and Lover. It is a new relationship, and a serious one, and a very difficult one. The dynamic is not one I am used to and completely comfortable with, and, like most folk, I have some emotional baggage and intimacy phobias.
I am not taking full blame for the shortcomings of My relationship. My partner has not been perfect. However, I also know that I have not been perfect either, and it is My responsibility to be so. If the Emperor were to be displeased, despite all the Samurai had done, it would have been tragic, but unavoidable. The Samurai would have done his best, and what happened after would have been out of his control, and that was it.
I must mend My ways. I must do My best -- luck favors the bold, God helps those who help themselves, no? Things have been falling down around Me, and instead of holding them up, I have been complaining. I resolve now, not for the New Year, but for Myself and My Master-Lover, to give this relationship in particular and everything in general, My absolute best effort. To take full responsibility for anything that might go wrong, to look at every situation and find where I went wrong. To do better.
Having said all this, I am well aware that if I begin again, if I make a true effort to not fight, to make him happy, to get along and be a good Lover and Submissive, there is still no guarantee that everything will work out. It is perfectly possible that in a month's time, I will still be miserable and we will still be fighting and either I shall have to leave him, or he will leave Me. This does not matter -- the journey is important here, not the destination. I must do this, if only to do this. I must try again, regardless of how hopeless the situation seems to Me.