For a while now I've been studying BDSM and spirituality from an intellectual perspective, mostly because I didn't have a partner with whom to take a practicing perspective. Along the way I've been practicing the theory of attraction which says that if you state your intentions, the universe will provide you with what you need. It doesn't usually happen as quickly as I want it to, but it usually does happen. Since I've been looking for a Dominant of a very particular nature for quite some time, I've had some mixed feelings about the whole attraction thing, primarily because it didn't seem to be working.

Just in time to give me a good Godly kick in the pants, along comes Griffin with a fistful of train tickets, tickets for the "spirchul" train, the one that will take us both to new and strange places. Griffin is someone who is deeply involved in his spiritual quest, in part due to the Micmac Indian blood that still pulses in rhythm dispite the distance between him and the actual Micmacs of his ancestral family. This is a man who meditates daily, runs sweat lodges, and is self-aware enough to have processed through some pretty serious childhood issues. In keeping with his spiritual exploration, Griffin dresses and speaks in an unassuming manner.

When he visits he lugs in a box piled with spiritual accoutrements from a Tibetan singing bowl which looks like a giant frosted salad bowl, to bottles of aromatherapy oils that make my nose tingle. Most importantly Griffin brings his hands which are destined to be in the hands hall of fame. It's not that he gives the greatest hand job on the planet, but rather that when he touches me, his hands transfer an energetic force which is undeniable.

Only a few hours into our first evening together he asked me to disrobe and lay on the floor. Oddly enough I was a bit shy, which surprised him. Being in a clinical state of mind, he probably didn't realize how peculiar it sounded. Seeing my blush, he offered me a towel and I allowed him to minister to me. I felt a bit anxious, because really, this was the first time I had explored these formal types of spiritual exercises. There was also a fair bit of sexual tension between us, not helped any by his ministrations to those Chakras located close to erogenous zones.

He led me through a meditation following the Northern path of my Chakras and guiding me through breathing from my left hand up and across and down out my right hand. As he went through this last part he touched my wrists and ran his hand across my chest and down my other arm sending a rippling shock down my body. I squirmed in arousal which he ignored in his gentlemanly way. I don't know if I was meditating in any way that he might recognize were he inside my brain, but when he passed the aromatherapy oils under my nose, my mind and soul lifted up and floated lightly. By the end of our session I was struggling to focus on the spiritual side of things, and frankly, as aroused as I'd ever be.

Because of how this affected my ability to focus, we later decided not to do spiritual exercises just before a BDSM scene. Not to mention that it probably wouldn't work well right after, because after a few hours of kinky play and a big freaking orgasm I pretty much roll over and fall asleep. Another challenge for me was in handling the distraction of my cat Spencer who was clearly attracted to our mutual energy. His constant interruptions resulted in my giggling at some odd moments. I initially felt that this was a bad thing, but on further reflection I figured if he's attracted to us, more power to him. Rather than try to reject that from my meditation space, I will, in the Taoist tradition, invite it to coexist with me.

Now that I've finally boarded the train, visions of the wildflower fields of my childhood rush past the windows. I can see far off into the distance where the Atlantic ocean laps at the edge of my consciousness. I can smell sweet honey flowers, saltwatered air, my green tea as it steams upward to my lips. I look at Griffin with a smile, take his hand, and reach my other hand out the window to feel the rush of air. I wonder where the next whistle stop will be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sensuous Sadie is the author of It's Not About the Whip: Love, Sex, and Spirituality in the BDSM Scene (http://www.trafford.com/robots/03-0551.html). She is the founder and leader (1999 - 2001) of Rose & Thorn, Vermont's first BDSM group. Comments, compliments and complaints, as well as requests for reprinting can be addressed to her at SensuousSadie@aol.com or visit her website at www.sensuoussadie.com . Sadie believes the universe is abundant, and that sharing information freely is part of this abundance, so she allows reprints of her writing in most venues.

Copyright 2003 Sadie Sez Publications