CraigJustCraig

Tag: healing

  • “Exploring Sensory Deprivation: Unlocking the Healing Power of Intentional Kink Modalities”

    im going to pull a quotes for this a build my point from them the first one is: ” Jung’s says “Until you make the unconscious, con
    scious, it will rule your life and you will call it Fate” which means that
    your unconscious desires and curiosities have great power to
    shape your experience. “

    This is tricky:Because, these deep desires and curiosities are unknown and unconscious (meaning: you are not knowingly aware of them, so they do not seem like they are
    yours at all!). Yet these taboo, disowned, and repressed desires get fulfilled in your life. because these taboo desires have been disowned and repressed, you
    won’t recognize their fulfillments as fulfillments. you see them as calamities.

    There are 7 axiom to practice sacred kink/ intentional kink these are:

    • Having is evidence of wanting
    • We have a choice as to whether we experience sensation as pleasure or pain
    • It’s possible to get off on every “stroke,” and every happening in life is a “stroke”
    • The degree of being “turned off” or “turned on” is a factor of approval
    • Desire evolves through fulfillment, not denial and repression
    • Shame is the Magic Killer
    • The truth is sensationa

    The largest most powerful part of practicing intentioal kink is that you hold the power to change your mind, im going to quote 2 different things here but the oddly end up saying the same thing from two different source one medical the other mystical. the first on comes from urban tanta “Every thought you think is creating your future. … A basic premise of Tantra is self-acceptance. Another is self-love. With these, you can create or change anything in your life. Your mind is either your most powerful ally or your worst enemy. The choice is yours.

    How do you wish to use your mind?

    What is it you want in your life and in your sex?

    Will the thought you’ll think when you look up from this page be something you want to see happen in your life?

    Get clear on what you really want and start talking and acting like it already exists, because on some level it already does; it just may not have fully manifested yet. The thoughts you think today create your tomorrow—so when tomorrow comes, would you rather be greeted with your fondest dream or your worst nightmare?” and the next quote comes from the body keeps the score here is states the very real phenomenon about being ADDICTED TO TRAUMA: THE PAIN OF PLEASURE AND THE PLEASURE OF PAIN how Fear and aversion, in some perverse way, can be transformed into pleasure. hypothesized that endorphins—the morphinelike chemicals that the brain secretes in response to stress—play a role in the paradoxical addictions okay not the quote sorry really love this book should really be a must read but “The neuroscientist Joseph LeDoux and his colleagues have shown that the only way we can consciously access the emotional brain is through self-awareness, i.e. by activating the medial prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain that notices what is going on inside us and thus allows us to feel what we’re feeling.5 (The technical term for this is “interoception”—Latin for “looking inside.”) Most of our conscious brain is dedicated to focusing on the outside world: getting along with others and making plans for the future. However, that does not help us manage ourselves. Neuroscience research shows that the only way we can change the way we feel is by becoming aware of our inner experience and learning to befriend what is going inside ourselves.”

    and here is where im going with all this this intentional kink allows us to have soul deep level acceptance of our situation, our perception, our reality, and simply accept it love it actually get off on it this allows us to repair the alarm systems of our body and restore our somatic self to its ordinary job of being a presence that takes care of the housekeeping of the body,mind and soul ensuring that you eat, sleep, connect , protect, and defend

    Sacred Kink/intentional kink is an awareness of sexuality for exploring spirituality and energy. Though it may come in the forms of play, sensual exploration, and bliss, this is the work of our souls. What is important is access to an altered state of consciousness, why we go into them, and what we do once we are there. okay another quote from dossie new topping book “..play directed to the purpose of attaining altered states of consciousness, of traveling beyond our habitual perceptual screens to another way of being in which everything becomes special, extraordinary, brilliant. Goals for such a scene might be a quest for guidance, or a vision, the pursuit of personal truth or understanding, or the experience of spiritual communion” these tools provide an opportunity to tap into routes for self-focus, self-expression, and connecting with ourselves and others.

    okay lets talk about the intentional kink/sacred kink modalities in healing there are alot. like ALOT. like the oldest tools for shamanic and trance practices worldwide. and while i would love to give a exhaustive list im going to settle for one list the 8 fold path: you know the drill by now another quote

    “Eight stories. Eight life moments. Eight journeys towards beauty, change, manifestation, catharsis—towards the limitless. These eight erotic adventures will create a roadmap of exploration, uncertainty, truth, hope, desire and passion. A roadmap that might give insight to your own journeys from the past, or your own journeys ahead.

    The Path of Rhythm: Dancing Into the Infinite Beat
    I close my eyes and dance. The rhythmic music pumps my body back and forth between 2,000 leather clad bodies, sweat pouring over our hides and the hides of what encases our forms. I can hear the beat of the music in my breath. I can feel it in my pulse and I dance. My boots hold me firm on the ground and my hips sway, my lips part, making love to an unseen force. I grab hold of the Boy, my Boy, in front of me. I begin drumming my hands against his leather vest, the hide under my fingertips, and he grunts in time with the music, pushes back in time with the music, trances out with me into the music… and we fly.

    The Ordeal Path: Trials of Rope and Balance
    She looks at me defiantly, but I can see her fear just on the other side of that sternness. Suspension lines locked off, I pull one foot up in the air. Her toes brush against my breasts and she is tethered to the ceiling by the ropes on the back of her chest harness and by her thigh. For the first five minutes she is fine, until the foot on the ground cramps up. By the end of 35 minutes she will be screaming. By the end of an hour she will be sobbing and broken—facing the demons she came here today to look at. I hold the space and I wait.

    The Path of Flesh: Embracing Skin and Desire
    He growls at me and I growl back. The single tail isn’t an ordeal for me, because it brings me here and now, because I need it, want it, long for it. The lash is my lover and I can feel it lick me open and bring me back from the emptiness I fill myself with to survive the day job. I am decadence reflected, I am glistening, I am hungry as the blood pours down and I beg for more. My feral lust echoes back to him with every touch of its pain and I can feel myself opening up not to him but to myself. Looking within I can see all of the reasons I am the way I am and I love myself for it. This is not a test, this is love, and I love myself in this, I love the world in this, I am the world in this.

    The Path of Ritual: Into the Ceremonies of Life
    Each morning I wake and do as my Mistress has commanded. I lay out my clothes on the bed and while still nude, prostrate myself before the image of her that lives on my altar. She is my Goddess, my inspiration, and I repeat the mantra of her name and my place in her life. I am her Slave, her thing, her property. I say all her holy names and remind myself of my place in her life as I lift the collar to my neck, lock it on, and look in the mirror next to her image. I see myself in her collar, know I am in her collar, and begin to touch myself as she commanded. I cum in her honor, as I always cum in her honor, and in that space between tension and release, I catch myself in the mirror, feel the collar, and can feel the divine in this truth.

    The Path of Breath: Inhaling Our Potential
    “Hold.” Their voice is sensual and still as I sit before them and they kiss my lips and then say, “Release.” Ze sucks in my air between tender lips and breathes it back to me in time. Our bodies rock back and forth into one another, me into them with each breath out, they into me as I breathe zir back in. We become a single circuit. We are a single circuit. Ze locks eyes with me again and adds noise to each breath, pumping me higher and more acutely into zir, feeling zir hunger against mine, feeling zir in me at each push of oxygen. I am high, and the world floats away.

    The Path of the Horse: Riding Into the Storm
    He called and said he needed to feel divine wrath. I will not be myself tonight. I will become the vessel to hold his pain, to give him space to atone. Black lace and silk wrap around my form, knee high boots, and a mask slips in place moments before he knocks on the door. I slip into the back seat of my own soul and watch as SHE comes forward, watch as SHE has him crawl inside, and am inspired as I know, together, SHE and I will create an evening he will never forget.

    The Path of Asceticism: The Call of Erotic Monasticism
    It never comes all at once. I find myself in the quiet places when others sleep. Universal truth slips out as I’m washing the dishes or licking his boots. Sleeping on a pallet at the end of his bed, wearing what he requires, following his rules—this is the order of things. I become his nun. I wake at the same time each day, bathe in the same way, act according to his rules—and with my mind stilled of gibberish, I find calm, and in the calm, understanding.

    The Path of Sacred Plants: Consuming Our Fate
    On my knees, my coven stands around me and the Priest opens up the tin to reveal what is inside. I close my eyes—I have the right to say no, to not go on this journey that we planned months ago, but I know that in the safety of this circle that this is what I need. I keep closing myself off, keep stopping short, and having negotiated this I am ready. Hand to mushroom to lips and I begin with bowing before each of them, thanking each of them, as the music begins and their hands slowly descend onto my body.”

    okay to so let me recap for a sec and tie lol this together really quick so i have previsously talked about the 16 rules tthis basically says your always doing magic whether you like our not, this says you definitely like it you little freak and your getting off on it. we also talked about “What cannot be communicated to the others cannot be communicated to the self. If you cannot tolerate what you know or feel what you feel, the only option is denial and dissociation. Maybe the most devastating long-term effect of this shutdown is not feeling real inside,” so here is the healing aspect right we need to be able to feel what we feel and know what know or your magic will litteral make YOU cease to exist!!!! bell hooks talks alot about this condition but im going use a quote from erich fromm that also mentions this condition “it is important to avoid bad company. By bad company I do not refer only to people who are vicious and destructive; one should avoid their company because their orbit is poisonous and depressing. I mean also the company of zombies, of people whose soul is dead, although their body is alive; of people whose thoughts and conversation are trivial; who chatter instead of talk, and who assert cliche opinions instead of thinking.” these people are also magical they just have lost control of their magic and have given control over to some one else these people are dangerous unstable and these are the people in most need of healing. so we talking about that and the living dead now we need talk about the power of culture, or idealogy, mythoform, and mythogolog but that ill need its on post all together but what i will say here is that. as we have seen how importent our mind is, our words are, our thoughts are, so is the stories we tell ourselves, the fantasy we keep, the media we consume the belief we hold all of it i will one day talk about yurugu and how that is the last piece in the magical practice and until you what divides you you can never finish the first step of the great alchemy,

  • Accountability is messy.

    Anyone who tells you it’s simple probably hasn’t lived through the complexity of it. The truth is, two people can live through the same exact moment and walk away with two completely different truths. And , both of them are real.

    harm doesn’t care about intent. It doesn’t wait for your perspective to catch up. And the second you start defending instead of listening, you close the door to the one thing that could have saved everyone: curiosity.

    we builds walls where bridges could’ve been.

    That lack of curiosity escalated everything.

    People’s feelings are real.
    Their pain is real.
    Even if it came from a misunderstanding.
    Even if it came from perception.
    Even if it came from something I didn’t know I did.

    When someone says they’re hurt by you, you have three choices:

    1. Get defensive.
    2. Get dismissive.
    3. Get curious.

    There are only a few possibilities when someone says you hurt them:

    • You did, whether you meant to or not.
    • They misunderstood something you said or did.
    • Something got lost in translation, emotionally or otherwise.
    • Someone influenced how they saw you, fairly or not.

    But in all cases, their pain is still real. And you can’t brain your way into a matter of the heart

    I used to think that my intent should carry more weight. That if I meant well, I couldn’t possibly be the villain in someone’s story. But that’s not how harm works. That’s not how people work.

    When someone is in pain, your job is to stop talking and start listening. Because until their pain is acknowledged, they will not — cannot — hear you.

    Impact is the measure. Not intent.

    leading with curiosity,

    don’t define yourself by my worst moment. But do let it teach you .
    hope others can learn from it, too.

    When someone says you’ve caused harm

    Get curious.
    Ask questions.
    Open your heart.
    Because even if you disagree, even if you feel falsely accused, even if you don’t understand — that curiosity might save everything

    We can’t always fix what’s broken. But we can stop breaking more.
    We can show up differently next time.
    And if we’re lucky, we’ll be given a second chance.

    But sometimes, you only get one.

  • What Are We Doing Wrong?

    We talk about building community like it’s host the play party, hold a few consent classes, add a Discord server, and boom

    But let’s be honest: most of our “communities” are just clusters of trauma-bonded strangers orbiting ego, secrecy, and unmet needs.

    And we wonder why they keep exploding.

    This isn’t a takedown. Not a defense. Not even a manifesto. This is a reflection. A spiral through the wreckage we keep calling community—and a challenge to ask if we’ve been building it on sand.

    Every time harm happens, we fall into a pattern that feels more like reflex than care. Someone speaks. Someone is named. Screenshots are taken. Events drop names. Reputations scatter like ashes in the wind. All under the banner of safety, but rooted in something else—fear, shame, power, confusion, grief.

    We get what we’re living through now: collapse, betrayal, shame, power struggles masked as consent violations, and intimacy weaponized into control.

    This piece is about what happens when we confuse harm with evil, accountability with exile, and community with containment. And what we might do instead, if we remembered who we are.

    The Cascade of Silence Someone trembles and speaks their truth

    They name their experience. And everything erupts.

    The accused disappears

    People whisper. Screenshots circle like wolves. Social capital bleeds out like a wound. Groups back away. Educators go quiet. And in the empty space where dialogue could live, silence hardens into strategy.

    This is not justice. It’s reaction.

    The pain is real. The fear is real. But how we move through it determines whether we are a village or a battlefield.

    Two People, Two Nervous Systems, One Wound Most harm doesn’t come from monsters. It comes from mismatch—two bodies not attuned, two stories with different beginnings, two people unprepared for the depth they were stepping into.

    Consent wasn’t fully navigated. Boundaries were spoken, but not tended. Silence was misread as agreement. Someone fawned. Someone froze. Someone thought things were okay. But they weren’t.

    No one is lying. No one is a villain. But harm happened.

    We don’t need exile. We need curiosity. We need slowness. We need repair

    Bandwagons Are Not Accountability We say we believe survivors, but often what we believe are posts, not people. Often, the social response isn’t about care—it’s about positioning. About showing we’re “safe.” That we “stand with.”

    But standing with someone doesn’t mean erasing someone else.

    We’ve turned harm into a currency. Trauma into a status symbol. Support into spectacle. We ghost the accused, but call that justice. We erase nuance to feel safe. But safety built on destruction is a shaky house

    When Trauma Echoes and Becomes Contagion One post reopens a dozen old wounds. Not because of what happened—but because of what resonates. Collective pain rushes in. Everyone bleeds at once. And now we’re not holding one story—we’re drowning in many.

    This is called vicarious trauma. And when a community isn’t trained to hold it, it reacts. It expels. It purges. It isolates. Not to heal—but to survive.

    Misaligned People harm others while trying to connect.

    They were scared. They were socially awkward. They didn’t know how to read cues. They thought silence meant consent. They panicked. They froze when confronted. Trauma met trauma and neither had the tools to hold the charge.

    This doesn’t excuse. It explains. And understanding gives us the chance to interrupt the cycle.

    We don’t ask the person harmed to teach. But someone must. Someone must hold up the mirror. Offer tools. Walk the path

    Most survivors don’t want a head on a stick. They want acknowledgment. Transformation. Assurance that the harm won’t happen again. That something shifted. That the pain wasn’t meaningless.

    But when our culture offers only silence or war, survivors lose too.

    What if we gave more options:

    • ~

    The Bias in Our Vision A big, awkward dangerous person. A bubbly soft-spoken unserious person. A dominan aggressive person.

    We don’t just misread—we misjudge. And in trauma-saturated communities, our fear projects shadows onto others.

    Being trauma-informed means knowing when the voice in your head is your past—not the person in front of you.

    A Better Pattern Let’s imagine a new way:

    • ~

    Healing Is a Communal Act This is where it gets spiritual.

    Unresolved wounds don’t vanish when we walk away. They reappear under new names, in new spaces. Every time we “move on,” we take the wound with us.

    And community? It isn’t just “people we hang with.” It’s the supposed to be the net that holds us together when we fall apart.

    Real intimacy cannot exist outside spirituality. It’s not an “I” relationship—it’s a “we” relationship, where the “we” includes ancestors, nature, spirit, and the village.

    We’ve lost the ritual of community. The wisdom of circles. The shrine as conflict resolution. The sacred as container for grief, desire, and misunderstanding.

    Rituals That Can Hold the Ache Imagine a space where:

    • A circle of men sits with a husband in conflict.
    • A women’s circle carries a wife’s grief.
    • The couple steps back. The village steps in.
    • Conflict is held, not hidden.

    We must stop separating the erotic from the sacred. Stop treating intimacy as a private contract and start treating it as a public covenant.

    Every relationship, especially the intimate ones, must be blessed, witnessed, nourished, completed. Even when they end, there must be ritual. There must be release.

    There is power in saying: “This is what’s aching me.” In letting the village hold the ache. In speaking the trouble out loud, until the problem becomes afraid of your voice.

    Community isn’t optional. Intimacy isn’t trivial. Harm isn’t a death sentence. Accountability isn’t exile.

    We must:

    • Call people in, not just call them out.
    • Use ritual, not reaction.
    • Center spirit, not spectacle.
    • Reaffirm that harm is a call to gather, not a reason to scatter.

    Let’s build communities where harm becomes the beginning of healing. Where closure happens through ritual. Where we listen—to each other, to spirit, to the trees. Where we remember: we belong to each other.

    Let’s do it differently. Let’s do it sacredly. Let’s do it together.

  • Judged by Their Shadows…

    You ever notice how folks size you up through a lens that ain’t yours?

    You could be walking clean, kind at your core, trying to show up with grace—and still, someone finds a reason to flinch, pull away, throw shade. It’s wild. You extend a hand and they recoil like you hid a blade in your palm. They’re not seeing you—they’re reacting to a ghost in their own story. Their shadow.

    Even in circles where trust should hold steady, where truth is currency and connection is sacred—someone will still project their wound onto your skin like it’s your fault they’re bleeding.

    But here’s the hard part: it ain’t really about you.

    People carry weight—generational, personal, ancestral. Trauma distorts the eye. Old wounds warp perception. What they reject in you is often what they’ve denied in themselves. Guilt. Shame. Desire. Power. Vulnerability. Most folks hurl blame when they don’t know how to sit with their own shadow. Instead, they wrap it in judgment, throw it at the nearest light.

    You ever been there? Showing up soft, heart-forward, only to get met with suspicion? You give, and they twist it. You care, and they mock it. And somewhere in the quiet after, you start asking yourself—am I the problem?

    Nah. You’re just reflecting something they’re not ready to name.

    Truth is, people criticize most harshly the very things they secretly struggle with. They’ll use shame, ridicule, guilt, and blame like tools to carve the world into a shape that lets them avoid their own mirror. It’s not malice—it’s survival. A desperate attempt to outrun their own demons

    Still hurts though.

    And if you’ve been wounded before—if misjudgment’s an old song—you might brace for the next blow before it even lands. You start hesitating. Silencing your kindness. Dimming your light so they don’t mistake it for a threat.

    But you can’t shrink your spirit to fit inside someone else’s fear.

    Stay rooted. Stay true. Don’t get dragged into their chaos. Let their shadow be theirs. You don’t need to fix their lens—you only need to keep standing in your own light. Even if no one claps. Even if they never see you clearly.

    Because It’s about alignment not applause.

    And one day, you’ll look back and realize: you held steady. You walked through their fog without letting it swallow you. You didn’t twist to fit their projections—you stayed whole.

    That’s real power.

  • All I Ever Wanted Was Community

    All I ever wanted was community.That might sound naïve in hindsight, but it was real. I entered these spaces hungry for connection, for chosen family, for a circle that could hold both my fire and passion. I led with my heart—always have. It’s my greatest strength, and sometimes, the source of my deepest wounds.

    I showed up. I gave. I made space. Not because I was trying to earn approval, but because that’s who I am: someone who believes in people, in healing, in possibility. I believed that if I moved with integrity, compassion, and a willingness to learn, there would be room for me.

    But I was wrong.

    In my search for belonging, I’ve been met with silence, sabotage, and gaslighting. I’ve encountered white-led communities that cloak supremacy in safety, and Black-led spaces that replicate the same harm under the banner of representation.I’ve been hurt not only by systems, but by individuals I trusted—Black women I admired, white organizers I respected, and community “leaders” whose power comes from erasing people like me.

    This is grief.
    Grief for the dream of a home.
    Grief for the hours of unpaid emotional labor I gave to people who never saw me.
    Grief for the version of myself that thought community meant care. I won’t name every betrayal. Some wounds don’t need to be reopened to be honored. But know this: I have been excluded, erased, and defamed. I’ve been blocked from spaces I helped uplift. I’ve had my words twisted, my intentions questioned, and my work ridiculed—not because of any proven harm, but because I refused to entertain the game that was being played. Because I dared to practice power in a way that couldn’t be controlled.

    I’ve been called a cult leader, a predator, a violator—without process, without conversation, without evidence. Just whispers. Just gossip.Just Accusation. That’s how it works: one strategic accusation and the silent complicity that follows.

    I’m done holding the weight of other people’s discomfort with my truth.
    I’m done letting vague whisper networks, and cancel culture masquerade as accountability.I’m done explaining my practice to people who were never interested in understanding it and were never invited in the first place.

    Let me be clear: I have always been open to feedback, to dialogue, to growth. I am not above critique. I am not perfect. But I cannot engage with people who weaponize concern, manipulate narratives, and refuse to name their issues.That’s abuse

    I know what I’ve built. I know the lives I’ve touched. I know who I am:

    So no, I’m not broken.

    I am becoming.
    smaller, deeper, and far more exclusive. I will no longer open my work to strangers. I will no longer make space for those who treat my humanity as optional. My energy as given, and it should be given to all that desire it.

    If you’ve harmed me, you know what you did.
    If you’ve supported me, I thank you deeply.
    If you’re confused by the whispers—ask questions, or move along.

    I’m no longer here to beg for belonging.

  • Bondage as an Energetic Tool

    At its core, rope bondage is a practice of energetic intention—a shared journey between top and bottom that invites both to explore the intersection of body, mind, and spirit. It is not simply the act of restraining, but a form of ritualized awareness. Through the placement of rope, pressure, position, and breath, the body becomes a sacred map—and bondage, the language we use to explore it.
    Pressure and position shape not just the physical experience, but the energetic flow beneath the surface. Rope can be a whisper or a command; it can soothe or provoke. It creates pathways for energy to rise, to circulate, to open or be held. This isn’t arbitrary—it is deeply rooted in the body’s energetic system.
    I often think of body language as a universal tongue—spoken by all, but interpreted through the unique lens of each person’s lived experience. We each carry a fragment of understanding, and yet, in the act of tying and being tied, we find a way into a shared dialect of sensation and spirit. Through the rope, we touch something collective, ancestral, and timeless.
    The experience of being immobilized in rope can act as a gateway into deeper embodiment. For many, it reduces anxiety, silences racing thoughts, and pulls them out of dissociation by anchoring them into the present. The body, held in tension, becomes undeniable. Each breath becomes more pronounced. Each sensation, louder. Rope asks you to _feel_, to _stay_, to _listen_.
    Tension becomes a tool—like the hot and cold touch in tantric practice. Some ties mimic the warmth of a heated palm, drawing blood flow, attention, arousal. Others mimic the sharp clarity of cold—awakening, heightening, even startling. Rope can replicate these contrasts through placement, texture, and timing. The way a tie compresses the chest may feel like fire—passion, intensity—while a slow, firm wrap around the thighs might feel cool and grounding, like ice on a fever.

    When applied with awareness, rope can stimulate and direct energy through specific pathways—mirroring the movement of kundalini or chi. Each area of the body holds emotional memory and energetic charge, and rope becomes a practical tool to access and influence those zones:

    • At the base of the spine, around the legs and feet, ties activate the root energy—our grounding, survival, and sense of belonging. Tension here can connect us to the earth, stabilize our nervous system, and awaken primal erotic energy.
    • Around the pelvis and lower abdomen, ties speak to sexuality, creativity, and intimacy. This is where power is born. Ties in this region can unlock shame, release suppressed desire, or amplify pleasure. When opened with care, they free the body’s capacity for both eroticism and creation.
    • At the solar plexus, rope can stir self-esteem, confidence, and the will to act. This is where fire lives. Rope compression here can facilitate cathartic release—shedding stress, fear, or stored emotional pain. Some call this a rebirthing, an energetic reset through the belly.
    • Around the chest, breasts, arms, and hands, rope touches the heart center. It draws in compassion, self-love, and connection. Focused breathwork during ties in this area can create deep openings for vulnerability and erotic tenderness. Here, sexual energy often begins to merge with love, dissolving the illusion of separation.
    • The throat, often ignored, is a portal of voice, truth, and creativity. A collar, a rope tracing the neck, or tension across the collarbones can activate the fear or power of expression. Ties here often bring forward themes of asking, choosing, and surrendering with clarity.
    • The face—eyes, ears, mouth, and third eye—is tied to intuition and perception. A blindfold can awaken vision beyond sight. Gags can shift inner awareness. Touching these regions can activate inner knowing, psychic sensitivity, and the witnessing of one’s own inner truth.
    • At the crown, the top of the head, bliss and spiritual energy reside. Hair ties reflect, the totality of the tie—when intention, breath, energy, and emotion align—can open this space. What results is not just orgasm but _orgasmic presence_—a full-body energetic cascade, where the physical and spiritual climax together.

  • On Somatic Resonance

    Ive talked about this before but i have learned alot more about after research and reading and practicing Stephen Porges, Peter Levine, and *Bessel van der Kolk in rope session. if your not familiar these are the authors Polyvagal Theory which essentially is how our nervous system responds and how that is influencing our social behavior and emotional regulation, Waking the Tiger which is how to encourage and recuit the body own systems for healing, and the body keep the score which is which show how you how your body and your mind actively reshape on another. This creates a Language to communicate with. while this is not strictly rope related it has help me craft session with more intention and precision.

    When I begin a scene, I’m not thinking about the restraint—I’m thinking about architecture. How the body folds or opens, how tension is built or released, how position speaks to you.

    Closed shapes like fetal, curled, knees tucked inward—often inspire feelings of safety, introspection, and containment. They activate the parasympathetic nervous system, inviting rest, digestion, and co-regulation.

    In contrast, open positions—arms wide, heart exposed, pelvis elevated, or exposed—evoke vulnerability, surrender, power, or display. These shapes carry both somatic charge and symbolic weight. To expose the belly is to show trust. To lift the chest is to offer the heart. to offer the neck is a sign of submission.

    “The way shapes we hold changes the way we feel.” A tied body is a speaking body. The body speaking is the psyche speaking.

    I have noticed a Listening Beneath the Skin. The body is more than a vehicle—it is an archive.
    Our fascia holds memory, our **nervous system catalogs our experience , and our posture encodes and outputs both our past and our reality.

    Have you noticed how different ties evoke different emotional states—regardless of physical intensity? For example, How a chest harness make someone feel held?

    Resonance teaches us to listen to the echoes of sensation. A tight waist line may feel like a good back stretch—or a trigger. A ascendion may feel like flying—or floating away .

    The I think the key is intention, presence and purpose. The body responds to our invitation sympathetic (arousal) and parasympathetic (release) systems creates a dances with transition. We charge, then we discharge. We constrict, then we soften.we bind and we release.

    Some of the studies presented show what the mystics have been saying: _Change your posture, and you change your consciousness._

    “Power poses” increase testosterone and lower cortisol. Upright postures increase confidence and social presence. Slouched shoulders invite withdrawal. These postures are chemical**.

    Have you noticed your baseline. I have build the structure with the natural shape; but in doing invite them to inhabit new shapes which corresponds to new states of minds. That is where the invocation comes in. When I tie someone into an open shape, I’m not just putting them on display—I’m summoning a version of them that may not always get space to speak. When I collapse their posture into a fetal fold, I’m not making them small—I’m offering sanctuary. Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can offer someone is a shape they forgot they were allowed to inhabit.
    I feel like we are braidingourselves into the nervous system.** We attune with our bottom with communication, with check ins, but on a deeper level im watching the way the breathe, where in the body is holding energy, where pain or sensitivity might be coming from. I looking for signs to tell me whether we are moving into regulation or dyregulation. so that kinda the language that is being spoken. The rope carries a current we activate with compression, with rhythm, with co-regulation. You create this kind of resonance and type of coherence. I think this is why sometime the rope session feels like therapy. or going to the chiropractor. its a kind of realign with self.

    The body plays “game” to survive.
    When threat is perceived, energy mobilizes: fight, flight, freeze.
    But rope invites new games.     a kind of ritualized renegotiion helping the body discover a new strategy, a new story.

    By intentionally altering state through posture, sensation, and presence—we give the nervous system a chance to complete unfinished survival loops or unfinished business. To release what was held. To try on a different possibility. This is why a session may end with tears. Or laughter. Or silence.
    Because something moved. the body finally had space to speak its own language—and be heard.

    I guess im trying to say the body is not passive—it is alive, intelligent, and aware.

    To tie well is to listen deeply.
    To be tied well is to trust fiercely.
    And to witness both is to remember what it means to feel whole.

  • The Eroticization of Suffering: A Somatic Reframe

    Pain is not always punishment.
    Sometimes it is presence.
    Sometimes it is possibility.

    For those of us who live with chronic pain—or who play at the edge of sensation—there’s a kind of alchemy in learning how to meet pain not with resistance, but with attention. This is not just survival. This is art. This is kink. This is healing.

    And sometimes… this is erotic.

    The Body is a Site of Reclamation

    Chronic pain teaches you to live in negotiation. Your body becomes a terrain of both resistance and resilience. And in that negotiation, we can begin to ask:
    What if pain didn’t just have to be endured—but explored? Witnessed? Eroticized?

    This is not to romanticize pain. But it is to recognize that power lives in the stories we tell about it.

    That erotic power may not come from the pain itself—but from our relationship to it.

    11 Ways to Turn Toward Pain (and Possibly, Toward Pleasure)

    Based on Dr. Andrew Block’s chronic pain coping methods, with a sensual, kink-informed lens.

    1. Altered Focus

    Shift your attention.
    Focus on your fingertips.
    Imagine warmth blooming from the inside out—like candle wax pooling in your palm.
    Where the mind goes, sensation follows.

    This is edging without touching. Seduction by redirection.

    2. Dissociation

    Place your pain in a chair across the room. Give it a name.
    Tell it: you may exist, but you do not get to lead.
    Watch it. Study it. Undress its urgency.

    Even in pain, you are the one in control.

    3. Sensory Splitting

    Can you separate the burn from the ache?
    The throb from the sting?
    Dissect the sensations. Get curious.
    What’s sharp? What’s dull? What’s almost… delicious?

    Like teasing apart pleasure from pain—until you no longer care which is which.

    4. Mental Anesthesia

    Picture a cool numbing mist washing over your skin.
    A gloved hand administering a slow Novocain drip to your lower back.
    Let the sting go silent.

    A ritual of quiet. A consensual mute button.

    5. Mental Analgesia

    Imagine your body flooding itself with morphine.
    Or perhaps, endorphins—your own homegrown high.
    The drip is internal. The rush is sacred.

    Pain becomes the invitation. Relief, the climax.

    6. Transfer

    Warm one hand between your thighs.
    Place it over your aching hip.
    Let your body believe the warmth is medicine.

    This is self-sorcery. This is energy play.

    7. Age Regression/Progression

    Time travel to a moment before the pain.
    Or after the pain.
    Dwell there.
    Act as if this body were already whole.

    Fantasy is the kink. And sometimes, fantasy heals.

    8. Symbolic Imagery

    Pain as a red light.
    A blaring siren.
    Now dim it. Mute it.
    Turn the dial until it becomes nothing more than background.

    Your pain is a playlist. You are the DJ.

    9. Positive Imagery

    Picture a place where your body feels sacred.
    A sun-warmed rock. A bed draped in silk.
    A partner whispering “yes” against your shoulder.
    Let your nervous system believe it.

    Eroticism begins with safety.

    10. Counting

    Count your breaths.
    Count your exhales.
    Count the seconds it takes for the pain to crest—and then recede.
    Build a rhythm. Build a scene.

    This is a metronome for the masochist. A cadence of control.

    11. Pain Movement

    Move the ache from your lower back into your wrist.
    From your wrist to your fingertips.
    From your fingertips into the room.
    Release it.

    Pain is not fixed. It is fluid. Like desire.

    What If the Pain Is Not the Problem?

    What if the pain is the portal?
    Not to suffering, but to sensation?
    Not to punishment, but to presence?

    There is erotic power in reframing the body—not as broken, but as brilliant. As adaptive. As responsive.
    Kink practitioners have known this for centuries: pain can be information. It can be intimacy. It can be sacred.

    Final Note: Pain Is Not Always Sexy. And That’s Okay.

    This isn’t about glorifying trauma or dismissing the reality of suffering. Not all pain is erotic. Not all pain should be.

    But in the quiet moments—when you’re practicing breathwork, or visualization, or lying still while heat pools in your spine—there’s a chance to relate to your body not with shame, but with reverence.

    To ask not, “Why is this happening to me?”
    But rather, “What is this sensation asking of me?”

    And sometimes, the answer might be:

    “To listen. To slow down. To touch myself gently.
    To fantasize about what healing might feel like—
    and then breathe into that image
    until it becomes real.”

  • before you engage, know this

    I do not hide who I am.
    I don’t downplay it. I don’t dress it up.
    I don’t lie about who I am.
    I show up exactly as advertised.

    You don’t need to decode me—I’ll tell you flat out:

    I’m a sadist.
    I move in the realms of fear, pain, pleasure, and surrender.
    My path is intense. My kinks are dark.

    I am not here for your comfort.
    I celebrate my darkness. I honor and seek the abyss.
    I show you my fire, my darkness, my pleasure.
    I don’t tone it down.
    I don’t offer comfort. I offer intensity.
    I don’t want fans. I want energy, I want honesty, and I want devotion.

    This is the body, mind, and soul set ablaze.

    My kinks are not cute. They are not digestible.
    They are dark, deep, and dangerous to the unprepared.

    This is edgeplay, pain, degradation, fear, sacrifice, ritual, and power—expressed with precision, purpose, and consent.

    I walk the path of hedonism, debauchery, and indulgence—

    Pleasure is my power. Indulgence is my devotion.
    The erotic is my altar. The shadow is my sermon.
    And this practice is my truth.

    I don’t offer entertainment. I offer awakening.
    And awakening is not comfortable.

    I negotiate with clarity and intention.
    If I tell you I’m going to do something, and you agree to it—you are responsible for that agreement.

    If you choose to dance in darkness, step into the abyss, and merge with my will—you must also accept the consequences.

    Once you step into my temple,
    once you sip the wine,
    once you kneel at the altar—
    you are accountable.

    If you chase the flame,
    you don’t get to be shocked when it burns.

    If you comes into my space without intention, without honesty, without readiness—
    you will be removed.
    Not out of pettiness, but because I have a responsibility to protect my work and my energy.

    I don’t tolerate dishonesty, disrespect, or shallow engagement.

    If you’re not grounded, focused, and serious, then you do not belong in this space.
    That’s not a punishment—it’s protection.

    This is a sanctuary.
    A path for the devoted, the willing, the aligned.

    This is sacred, sadistic, shadow work.
    This is practice(cultivate experiences connecting with something beyond your self). philosophy(systematic study of existence, knowledge, values, and reason,). power(the ability to act, influence, or produce change).

    I mix the erotic and the spiritual. I use ritual, altered states, shadow play as tools of expansion.
    Pleasure isn’t just something I enjoy—it’s something I use.
    This is the fire of shadow and flesh.
    This is the unrelenting truth of ecstatic soul.

    this is a path of integration and reverence.

    I seek the disciplined, the passionate, and the willing to engage deeply.

    Those who understand that showing up here comes with expectations.

    I give my time, my energy, and my presence fully.
    That must be reciprocated—whether through time, contribution, support, effort, or service.

    Access is granted only through alignment, action, and sacrifice.

    If this feels like too much
    If this does not resonate,

    If this path does not stir your soul,
    if this current does not call you home—

    turn back now.

    This will swallow you whole.

    But if it does…

    if it speaks to something deep inside you

    If you want depth,
    if you’re ready to be broken open and reshaped with care, cruelty, and intention—step forward.

    Strip bare.
    lay down your offering.
    And step into the flame.

  • I was talking to a goddess

    She didn’t speak in words, but in heat, in breath, in the ache behind my ribs:
    “You are not responsible for their feelings.”

    …I used to believe otherwise.

    I shackled my worth to people’s moods, contorted myself into someone else’s idea.
    I made myself small.
    I apologized for existing.
    The fear of abandonment, of rejection, of being too much and not enough at the same time.
    Boy, what a time.

    Then came the revolt.

    I told myself I didn’t care.
    I wore detachment like armor.
    If I couldn’t please them—fuck them.
    I became loud with boundaries and quiet with vulnerability.
    But I wasn’t free.
    I was still ruled—by them.

    Then came a knowing:
    That I can hold space without setting myself aflame.
    That my needs matter.
    And that theirs did too.

    I was not taught this.
    I was taught to blame—either myself or them.
    I was taught to focus on them and to lose myself.
    I’ve learned: feelings are not caused by others, but shaped by how we receive them—filtered through our own needs and expectations.
    Now, my work is to OWN that.

    This is hard to learn.
    Trauma trained me to see everything and everyone as dangerous.
    I forgot how to play.
    I forgot how to imagine.
    But my body remembered, even when my mind forgot.
    And shame clung deep.

    But pleasure is not sin.

    So I began to ask myself:
    What makes me feel good?
    Can I ask—clearly—for what I want?
    Can I speak in a language that is not vague or coded in shame?

    Instead of “Don’t ignore me,”
    I would say, “Would you be willing to check in?”

    Instead of “You don’t care,”
    I would say, “I feel lonely and need connection.”

    This is power.

    I wasn’t given these tools—I had to make them.
    Walking around yearning, yet terrified to feel it.

    Risk, with clarity.

    For the child in me who never learned.
    For the adult in me who is still learning.
    Knowing it’s safe to say:

    I don’t know where I’m going.
    But I promise: I know the way.