Wow!

So yesterday my wife had a day off.  It’s getting hard to tell when she does and doesn’t have off as she’s a manager in retail and this would be the retail season.  I know most people think it really starts the day after Thanksgiving, but that’s for shoppers.  The stores have to have everything ordered, delivered, and decoratively placed out for the customers by then.  So for them it starts a lot earlier.

Anywho, so we had a day off together.  And instead of just spending it in “lay on couch” snuggle mode where we try to recharge her batteries, I pressed for us to get something done.  We worked more on the healing room.

The healing room is a simple enough project.  We rearranged some of the basement so that we could create, basically, an area just large enough for a massage table and room to (barely) walk around it.  Surrounding that are all of the bookshelves … and a nice old top-piece of a hutch that is now basically a display case.  The idea will be to string up some purple Christmas tree lights on the ceiling and hang material across the ceiling and down to create “walls”.  And thus turn it into a room.  A room for doing healing energy work, Reiki, massage, and such.  That’s the idea.

Unfortunately it got a bit derailed.  It’s a small basement.  There’s really not much room.  That makes it tough.  But also the idea was to put a lot of my wife’s pretty black glass collection in the display case and such, to create a nice pretty atmosphere.

Only, well, the storage room is where that’s all at.  The storage room that holds two people’s lifetimes crammed together when we moved in together.  And we came to realize that her glass is separated into two areas, both of which are at least three layers deep in stuff.  We’d basically have to reorganize the entire storage room to get her black glass out.  Hmm…

We fought it.  It really wasn’t quite worth it.

So instead, yesterday we chose to skip the black glass, and work on digging up some of my old altar stuff.  It’d been in a box forever.  Some of it I kind of missed.  But, honestly, the energy around this city is so disconnected that I just haven’t gotten that much back into my magick.  And the house so small that there’d just never been a place to put up an altar anyway.  So I’d just skipped it.  Until now.  So that’s what we did.

It was fun just bringing all of it out again.  Of what I had from my primary altar, it isn’t nearly enough to fill the shelves.  But at least it’s one less box of stuff sitting around now.  Now it’s functional again.  And it was a step in the right direction that the wife and I took together.  We did something positive.

Inspired by that positive step, I decided that I really wanted to do something for my wife.  I wanted to give her an oil massage with healing-charged oil.  And maybe see if we could take anything from there.  It took her a little convincing, but not too much in the end.  Soon we were set up in the bedroom.  We put on a spare sheet to collect any oil spills.  I put together and charged a hemp oil base with a touch of orange and clove oils and a few grains of some sage-smoked sea salt that I’d made earlier for doing major cleansings.  I got some Native American instrumental music going.  We had candles and incense and even an oil warmer also filled with the same orange and clove oil.  It was a nice relaxing atmosphere.

I asked my guides to help with the healing, did some energy work to prepare, and then began.

And so, slowly, I rubbed the warmed oil into her skin.  Bit by bit.  First down one arm, then down the other.  Over her face, and then down her neck.  Down her chest and around her breasts.  Down her stomach, her hips, her mound.  Down one leg, ending in a short foot massage.  Then down the other to do the same.  Eventually all of her front, every inch of skin, I had worked healing cleansing oil into.

Then I placed myself between her legs so that I could run my hands from her feet up to her chest and back down, channeling energy as I did so repeatedly, back and forth and back and forth, trying to clear her energy pathways, open her chakras, and reawaken her kundalini.

And then I had her roll over so that I could do the same for her back.

I didn’t use too much oil.  Just enough.  She uses hemp oil as a moisturizer so at the very least I was doing her skin some good.  But I was hoping that the oil was doing more than that, as was my continued Reiki as I applied it.

And of course I was driving myself crazy.  She was naked, of course.  And I was constantly touching her.  And beause of the amount of oil involved, I was naked too, since I didn’t want oil all over any of my clothes.  So … yeah … I was certainly stimulating myself in the process.

So when I had finished the actual healing, I decided to press my luck and hope.  I slowly slid my oil-covered hand down along her labia.  Mmmm.  She was hot.  There’s nothing like a nice hot box to let you know you’re on the right track.

Unfortunately the real problem to that was the antidepressants that she’s been on lately.  The body may respond, but the antidepressants seem to turn off the switch at the brain.  So you can play all you like and get the simple bodily responses, but no matter how much you try, the actual climax never comes.  You can rub raw before the brain gets the message.

Still, nothing ventured…

So after a brief consult, we decided to give it a try.  She rolled back over, and I slid my oil slick fingers inside of her, teasing her softly, then harder, then harder.  It was the first time that I’d ever gotten three fingers in.  That was kind of fun, but I accidentally hurt her a couple of times when she’d rock and the next thing I knew I’d hit the pubic bone the wrong way.  Oops.  Still, it was working.  As was playing with her clit while I did this.  Not that she ever has a clitoral orgasm before a vaginal one.  She’s a very vaginal-driven woman.  But it’s still fun to play.

Well, it was fun playing, but I could tell it wasn’t going to get her there.  Not with my fingers.  So there was one last thing to try, which was the real thing.  Unfortunately I’d been holding off on that a bit because it’d definitely put me over the edge, and it’s an edge that’s really disappointing to jump over all by yourself.  At least to me.

So I moved up and slid myself inside her, and instantly she started to really respond.  She loves a good fuck.  I think her idea of foreplay before I came along and started teaching her to slow down was just to fuck slowly.  Her idea of sex is generally just a lot of hard deep thrusting.  Sometimes I’m never sure which of us is more the woman and which of us is more the man.  Still, at least she’s easy to please.  And I’ve learned a few ways to move to pound her that does wonders for her without making me cum instantly.  So I gave her her ballad, and she sang for me.  And sang.  And sang.  Holy shit!

I mean on any normal day, she’s multi-orgasmic.  I always envy that.  Sometimes I’m not sure if she has multiple orgasms, or just some very prolonged climaxes that keep going higher and higher.  Probably a bit of both.  So any normal day I’d expect it.  But, again, the antidepressants have been making the sex, well, depressing.  She’s lucky if she even gets one orgasm while on them.

So to have her in her normal throws, was just fucking awesome!

And maybe it was the over stimulation earlier, or maybe it was the grace of god, but damned I managed to hold off on my own climax for a good while, as I gave her more and more.

Unfortunately nothing lasts forever.  Especially not me when I’m not getting a fairly regular amount of sex.  (Not getting sex often makes me climax a lot quicker I’ve found, which is also a bit disappointing, since I’m not like my wife.  I can’t just keep cumming repeatedly.  Well, at least not normally.)  So I finally felt myself getting there.

Usually I’m so lost in giving her orgasm after orgasm that I just plum forget to keep a thread of attention on myself, so I just cum with her in a so-so climax.  Her idea of a lot of hard and deep thrusts is okay.  Don’t get me wrong.  But it’s not exactly savoring the buildup to the edge.  It’s more like running flat out over it.  Extreme, but short-lived.  Not my ideal way to plunge, but certainly not a bad way to go.

But this time I was so sluggish to respond that I could feel it starting to build, and I’d given her so much that I felt I was well deserved in taking a little time for me.  So I slowed the grind and at the right time brought it to a stop.  I don’t know if all men are like this, or just me, or what, but there’s a certain point where you can get excited enough to feel it coming.  You could pull out and maybe it might stop.  If you just stopped everything, maybe you won’t cum just yet.  But if you go any bit too far, you definitely will, no matter what.  And I was getting right up to that very edge, savoring the slowness of it.  I just stayed inside of her and let her tease my nipples a bit, and felt that molasses slow build, pushed just by the energy and emotional rush of our love.  And let the tidal wave crash over me.

Ye gods it was good!

And then as the spasming started triggering her, I began pumping again to give her another orgasm.

Then I rested lightly upon her (well, lightly for her … my arms were taking the brunt of my weight) and we kissed and smiled and kissed again.  And just enjoyed that afterglow together.  And I laughed with her at how well that went.  And when I teased her by sliding slowly in and out again (because usually I stay hard for an awfully long time after climaxing) she shuddered in the start of another orgasm.  So I pleased her once more.

And as we rested after that one, I teased her again.  And I’ll be damned if she didn’t respond yet again.  So I brought her to climax yet again.  Only this time I could feel myself growing soft, and at one point almost darn near slipped out because of it.  So, unfortunately, it was the one last orgasm my penis would give her.

But we weren’t over yet.

Having so thoroughly ravaged her, it’d caused a build up.  Back before me, when she rarely if ever squirted, she didn’t know what that was.  It was just an uncomfortableness that she’d sometimes carry for days.  But because we’d explored so much together, now she knew what it was and how to relieve that.  So she grabbed our favorite squirting toy (a glass curved line with a small ball on one end and a large ball on the other) and slid the large end in.  I scooted back to watch, and with my face almost close enough to lick her, I played with her while she toyed.  And it wasn’t long before the flood gates opened and her female ejaculation gushed out while she climaxed.  Mmmm.  There’s not much sexier in my opinion.

But now she had another need.  She’d had all sorts of vaginal and g-spot orgasms, but no clitoral orgasm yet.  So we got out her favorite clit teaser vibe and I rubbed the shaft of her clit while she teased the head.  And sure enough, she came screaming.  She came so hard that she clenched up into a sort of fetal position (except she was laying on her back) with her legs clenched together.  I’m too vicious to just let her go at that.  I kept my fingers on the shaft of her clit.  Not rubbing or moving in any way, because I know it’d be too much to her at that point and she’d push my hand away in defense from the assault to her nerves.  No.  I’m an energy worker.  I have sneakier ways.  So I just kept my fingers there, and sent her energy through them.  I have to admit, maybe it’s when I’m with her, or maybe it’s just me (I don’t really know which because I haven’t done energy work with many people to compare) but I can have a really sexually charged energy some times.  And so I just channeled that through her clit and kept her just on that very edge for an almost torturous amount of time.  After all, who knows when the antidepressants are going to let her have this much fun again?  I couldn’t not make the most of it.

It was … awesome.  I couldn’t have imagined a better love making.  Even before the antidepressants this one would have been up there in the top 20.  It was an amazing gift from the universe, at a time when we really needed something.

I’m a firm believer that good sex is a healing force.  There’s a build up of energy as two people please one another, especially in love.  Not that it has to be the romantic love of songs, but at least some love of one another.  I’m sure that a wiser witch than I could use that raw energy to cast magick.  I’m sure because I’ve read about it a bit.  But I’m too … natural … for that.  There was a time once, when I was at the top of my game, when I channeled Quan Yin.  Well, channeled might not quite be the word for it.  More she just came to me in a meditation, gracing me with her presence.  There was a lot learned there, in that brief time together.  But one of the hardest lessons I had to learn then (long story that I don’t want to go into now) was that sex can be used for healing.  And goddess knows, yesterday, my wife and I were both touched by that healing as we came together.  It was more than I ever could have asked for.

I don’t know how long the effects will last.  Unfortunately, so often, healing energy work doesn’t last forever.  You have to keep working at it, or it fades away.  And in this place, with such a lost connection to the universe around me, I just haven’t been the healer I was.  But I hope this gift somehow lasts.

Then we ordered Chinese for dinner.  I don’t know why, but there’s something special about Chinese food.  Maybe it’s that the spices have medicinal properties.  Maybe it’s just the right combination of vegetables, starches, and proteins.  Maybe it’s that so many places are family affairs, filled with togetherness and love.  I don’t know.  But in my opinion, there’s nothing better for a day of healing than Chinese food.  She had a vegetable egg roll and pork lo mein.  I had a vegetable egg roll, bbq pork ribs, and beef lo mein.  And we each had a fortune cookie.  The cookies were good … albeit with rather unimpressive fortunes.

It was a good day.

I know one thing.  It made so much of an impression that today my wife is calling in sick.  I call them “mental health days”.  Because really, mind and spirit can be sick just like the body can.  You have to take care of all of you, or the other parts will grow ill too.  My wife works herself so hard sometimes that it’s been a real challenge teaching her that she has to also take care of herself.  And with her health in a slump, it’s even more important now to make time for herself instead of burning the candle at both ends … and the middle.  She’s got to learn to at least reserve one end of that candle for her own well being.  I keep telling her, “You can’t save the world if you put yourself into a hospital.”  There’s really only so much one person can do.  I think she’s finally learning that!

And it’s funny.  I woke up at 9 because I’d snuggled so much through the night that my shoulder was sore from being on one side so much.  But my wife, she’s still sleeping.  It’s just shy of noon and she’s still sleeping.  She’s sleeping the sleep of healing.  She’s recharging.  She’s healing.  If I didn’t know better I’d have woken her.  But I do know better, so I’m not concerned.  It’s a good sign.  It means that she really has pushed out some of the negative energy.  She really is refilling that gap with something good.

And probably, she’s going to spend today “cleansing”.  Which is what I call it when the spirit heals and the body pushes out so much bad, every way it can, but usually through the usual places where disgusting dirty things come out.  It’s a nasty process, but the spirit cannot elate while the body is swamped in negativity.  And we humans with our readily available junk for food are so good at filling ourselves with things that hold us down.  There’s a balance that needs to be upheld in order to keep on the path of healing.  She’s going to need to drink a lot of water today.  And need more good food.  Time to put a scented candle in the bathroom…

You may have noticed that I got kind of quiet suddenly. I was busy yesterday. I’ve been kind of busy today. Where to start…

Well, while the wife was getting a massage yesterday (deep tissue therapeutic, not thefun kind) I went along with the idea of reading a book while I waited so that we could do all sorts of fun things like grocery shopping afterward.

But in the end I didn’t read.  Instead I went for a random walk.  I ended up in a cemetery.  It sounds strange, but I actually like it in cemeteries.  They’re serene and restful.  There usually aren’t many (if any) people around, so things are quiet.  And I figure if the dead are still hanging around, they probably appreciate the company.

I found a nice tree to sit under.  The shade was good.  That soft slightly-decayed smell of the earth was a pleasant balm.  The birds were chirping happily.  The squirrels running around madly.  It was a peace with nature I haven’t found in a long time around here.

You see, I used to live in Baraboo, Wisconsin.  I used to go to Parfrey’s Glen and Devil’s Lake often.  I’d walk with the faeries under the trees.  I’d play in the water.  I’d stand between walls of Earth and contemplate the stones of the ancients.  It was good.

I haven’t found anything like that here.  And I think it’s starting to really get me out of sorts.  There’s a local park with some trees and a tiny lake / large pond.  There are goldfish and ducks.  It’s … nice.  But there’s just no real elemental connection there for me.

Anyway, so in this cemetery I felt a connection to the Earth that I hadn’t felt in a year or so.  I took the opportunity to do my usual morning meditation.  Only this time I really felt like it was doing something instead of just going through the motions.  I followed with a Reiki session on myself, like I try to do most mornings.  And I felt much better and more positive than I had in ages.  The confusion and depression of the last couple of weeks was gone.

And in that moment I realized that I had to make a choice.  My depression was stemming from not-acting.  I had to either choose to persue my transformation, or I had to choose to stay a male.  Either would allow me to move forward again in my life and take back my control.  I’m not a Reiki master for nothing.

And surprisingly, it was clear.  I would stay male.  I’ll still have fun crossdressing from time to time, but my life is not ready yet for my transformation.  My life is not ready yet.  Emotionally and spiritually, I am.  But financially I am not.  And my wife certainly isn’t.  I could indeed find the peace of being myself, but at the cost of so much else, it would hardly be any personal victory.  So I would stay male.

For the rest of the day I felt wonderful relief in having a clear choice.  I knew I had to focus more on my writing again too.  Not my blog.  I write novels.  Only I’ve never been published.  I wrote them for me, not for the world.  But there are a couple now that I would like to see published, and on in particular.  So it’s time to find a literary agent.  And it’s time to focus on writing again.

My wife and I went shopping for groceries.  We went out to lunch.  We even went to Circuit City to pick up the Iron Man Blu-Ray.  (I’ve been dying to see that movie.  Was a bit disappointed that there wasn’t more to it, but maybe in the sequel, eh?)  And then we had a wonderful night of pizza and a movie and a new season of prime-time TV.  It was nice.

But then I woke up today, and felt, well, despondent.  Back at home, my meditation felt as flat as always.  The Reiki healing on myself felt uninspired.  And as the day progressed I began to question my own decisions.  It was then that I realized what the problem really is.

It’s not whether or not I become the beautiful woman I am.  Inside I’ll always be that me.  It’s not my trouble finding new contracts, or even better, full time work involving interaction with real live people again.  It’s not my writing.  It’s simply this fucking city.  It’s an energy drain.  It’s no wonder my wife’s health has been progressively getting worse since she moved here.  It’s no wonder that mine has too.  And that we’ve both been so emotionally drained.  It’s this place!

So now, more than ever, I’m committed to moving.  Which in today’s housing economy is not going to be easy.  The last thing I need are two simultaneous mortgages.

Still, it’s time.  I don’t know what sick joke the universe was playing when it convinced my wife and I to move here, but it’s time to leave.

Other than that, the only excitement in my life today has been my trip to a new dentist.  I hadn’t found one in the area yet.  It’d been a year.  Now that my wisdom teeth are yanked and healed, it was time for that fateful “regular checkup and cleaning”.  Which actually went surprisingly well.  No cavities.  All is good.

There’s only one thing that still nags me.  Why did I ever feel so compelled to go through my Reiki 1-3 attunements and certification a second time if I’m not using it?  What’s the point of being a Reiki master and Magnified Healer when I only work on myself and my wife?  For some reason that has been really bugging me lately.  I feel like I should be doing something with my energy work.  But I can’t seem to figure out what.  The only local Reiki Share group I could find isn’t all that local and I don’t actually get a good vibe from their online information.  I can’t find any local job advertisements for a Reiki healer.  (Not that I really expected any, but you never know.)  And I don’t have any place at home that I can even set up a massage table in anything close to a professional way.  I’m not really sure what to do.  I just feel like doing nothing isn’t the right thing to do.

Anyone who has sat through enough New Age discussion groups has got to have heard by now of the book title I’m reversing in my blog entry title.  And you’re probably already grasping the direction my words are rambling towards. I’ve talked enough about other aspects of myself.  I might as well start talking about my spiritual side. I’ve decided, through long attempts, that although I am an energy healer, a Reiki Master, certified in Magnified Healing, and familiar with aspects of many other modalities, that I am in fact not a light worker.  Oh sure, I can sit down and talk with the lightest of them, and hold my own quite well.  And often I wish, I really really wish, that I could be that nieve and hopefull and innocent. Sometimes I even am dangerously innocent. But I’m dark. But I’m an optimistic and helpful dark. Or something like that. Honestly, some times all of that sugar in the New Age fluff makes my teeth hurt. And most of the time I find myself wishing it were all just that easy. I’m a nice guy.  I’m a good person. But I often find myself amazed at how I am so for all the wrong reasons. If that makes any sense.  If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, is the opposite true?  Can the road to heaven be paved with bad intentions? Don’t get me wrong.  I have good intentions in there too.  Especially when it involves people I love.  And I do love, so very much.  And there are times when I do enjoy life greatly. But so much of my soul just seems steeped in darkness. And lately it’s been leaking out.  Which has me a bit concerned.  A few times, like when watching TV, I make a comment on how the bad guy went wrong, how if it’d been my, I’d have done it this way or that way instead.  It just comes out of my mouth unbidden.  And the sad part is, I know it’s true.  That were I in such a situation, that’s exactly what I would do.  And so I know deep within me is very dangerous potential. Fortunately for the world, I know that my existence on Earth this time through the reincarnation wash cycle is that I’m here to re-learn love.  It’s something I lost many lifetimes ago, that belief in love.  It’s something that, if anything, I’m being beaten with this time through. Gods, my first marriage was a nightmare.  I loved her.  And she loved me, at first.  But as the years passed and she wasted her life away while I supported her in every way possible, not just financially, but emotionally, intellectually, and so forth … as time marched on and she just sat there doing nothing for herself, she began to resent where her life was at.  And instead of taking it upon herself to fix what she wasn’t happy with, she began to take it out on me.  She began to blame me.  And years of growing emotional abuse later, I finally had to tell her it was over.  Of course she’d began having an affair with some guy in order to force the issue, but even then she couldn’t just be honest with me.  And the sad thing was, even through the divorce I forced us to take, I still loved her. Fortunately I learned to accept that I loved the her that she used to be.  I didn’t love the her that she was.  And so that helped me get through that. And even more fortunately, I found someone else to love.  Someone who accepts me for me, in ways my first wife never did.  I mean for the first time, at least at home, I can dress myself up as pretty as I feel inside and be something close-ish to the woman I am. But I am all things.  I may be woman inside.  But I am also man inside.  I may be a loving and devoted husband, to a flaw – which is a sad thing that love could even be a flaw – but I am also a cold-hearted son of a devil. I’ve noticed about myself that I am whatever the situation calls for.  If a leader is needed, I lead.  If a follower is needed, I follow.  If a man is needed, I’m male.  If a woman is needed, I’m her.  If love is needed, I’m a giver.  If ruthlessness is needed, I’ll put one in the head, just to be sure.  Because you always should be sure.  If a healer is needed, I can be an instrument of Quan Yin.  If a warrior is needed, just let me grab my sword and I’ll be right over.  If a friend is needed I’m not just there to help you move, but I’ll even steam clean your urine-soaked carpet to help you keep your security deposit.  (The Goddess knows, I’ve proved that one!)  If a beating is needed, I’ll draw blood if necessary.  If a listener is needed, I’ve a shoulder to cry on.  I’m sure by now you’ve more than gotten the idea. I have a lot of potential to help the world.  Because I choose to.  But it’s not always an easy choice.  I don’t even know that I do it often for the right reasons.  There’s a lot of dark in my soul.  I feel more like an old soul being rehabilitated than like a good person doing good deeds. And deep down, sometimes, oft times, I’m just so damn tired of it all. But if anything, I don’t give up, simply because I know if I do, I’ll just have to go through it all again anyway. See what I mean about all the wrong reasons?  What kind of reasoning is it to not commit suicide because you just know you’ll have to go through puberty again just to get to the same point you left off at?  How fucked up is that? I mean, yeah, I look forward to the enjoyable times my wife and I can spent together.  I know life has something to offer.  But honestly … it’s fucking exhausting too.  Just because I want to look forward to the good doesn’t mean I don’t simultaneously know there’s going to be plenty of  bad as well. So I try to fight the good fight.  I try to be the light in the darkness.  But always, always, is the darkness right there with me, a part of me.  And all too often I worry if it shadows my light maybe a bit too much.

Come to the dark side.