February 10, 2013: Love is Painful: Cathartic Flogging for slave Cathy and I.
February 10, 2013 (Sunday):
Love is painful.
The man sitting there, his eyes clear and focused, his voice strong and without hesitation, said that there was no pleasure in that pain. It was all pain. It was pain on both sides.
"Where was the pleasure?" His tone was never accusatory. A statement of observation. A statement of fact. A statement of feelings.
The answer did not come easy. The admission was difficult. Just the mere fact that someone felt that pain from this vantage point was jarring. The words tumbled out in a whisper.......laden with unshed moistures of the soul....
"perhaps there was no pleasure". And nod of the head was a simple acknowledgement of the interaction.
Every strike,from start to finish, soaked with pain and sufferings, burried so deep down and coming to the surface in a boil and roiling energy. And moments were frozen and shattered and reformed and process continued until there was nothing left but an emptiness and feelings of spent energy.
Pain of the strikes was equal in intensity on both sides of the flogger, for the hand which weileded the instrument and the back which received the strike were joined to the cores of each other. There were moments, more than realized
or observed from the outside, where the giver received more than the reciever.
And so was the sufferings.
The burden of unshed tears is heavier than the one which finds their way to the freedom from the confines of the spirits.
This sufferings is beyond words and sentences. It rattles the bones and it freezes the spirit. A darkness of neither full nor incomplete leeches hope and beauty.
And yet, we move towards shedding of sorrows and forgiveness and repentence and forward and such was the goal, such is the goal of this pain and suffering.
Love is painful, and yet the pain is the vehicle which may free us from sufferings of the heart and make us rejoice in the beauties and strolls in the garden of Eden, tasting the ever lasting forbidden fruits.
Days shall come and nights will follow
Love is painful.
The man sitting there, his eyes clear and focused, his voice strong and without hesitation, said that there was no pleasure in that pain. It was all pain. It was pain on both sides.
"Where was the pleasure?" His tone was never accusatory. A statement of observation. A statement of fact. A statement of feelings.
The answer did not come easy. The admission was difficult. Just the mere fact that someone felt that pain from this vantage point was jarring. The words tumbled out in a whisper.......laden with unshed moistures of the soul....
"perhaps there was no pleasure". And nod of the head was a simple acknowledgement of the interaction.
Every strike,from start to finish, soaked with pain and sufferings, burried so deep down and coming to the surface in a boil and roiling energy. And moments were frozen and shattered and reformed and process continued until there was nothing left but an emptiness and feelings of spent energy.
Pain of the strikes was equal in intensity on both sides of the flogger, for the hand which weileded the instrument and the back which received the strike were joined to the cores of each other. There were moments, more than realized
or observed from the outside, where the giver received more than the reciever.
And so was the sufferings.
The burden of unshed tears is heavier than the one which finds their way to the freedom from the confines of the spirits.
This sufferings is beyond words and sentences. It rattles the bones and it freezes the spirit. A darkness of neither full nor incomplete leeches hope and beauty.
And yet, we move towards shedding of sorrows and forgiveness and repentence and forward and such was the goal, such is the goal of this pain and suffering.
Love is painful, and yet the pain is the vehicle which may free us from sufferings of the heart and make us rejoice in the beauties and strolls in the garden of Eden, tasting the ever lasting forbidden fruits.
Days shall come and nights will follow