Sunday, April 18, 2010

Sweet, Sweet Pain

What is it about pain? Perhaps I am a synesthete (you may need to look that one up… Synesthesia). For me it is as varied and myriad as music, as flavor, as light reflecting of the waves of the restless sea, as deep and complex language. It is a bird call, it is thunder, it is sweet, it is bitter. From my earliest days of childhood I remember describing pain in tones… high pitch pain… low pitched pain… loud pain, quiet pain… it has temperature and volume… for some it may even have amperage and voltage if you see the world in electrical terms.

Pain talks to me, teaches me things that I am still trying to put into words. Pain can push me down and lift me up. It can depress me and it can energize me. It is a maze I can lose myself inside. It is a shelter, a cocoon I can crawl inside, and like the caterpillar, perhaps I am transmuted. It is vehicle, wings to lift me up.

Each voyage into pain is distinct, as unique from another as one snowflake is from its brother. Each sensation a note, each note blending into another creating a symphony… each flavor, each texture blending and complementing until it becomes a banquet, a feast for my senses.

No wonder as I am there, I celebrate, I laugh with irrepressible delight. It is the happy chuckle of childlike discovery as I find new things, feel new feelings. I wallow in it, I luxuriate, I guzzle, I devour. It is an orgy of the senses and it feeds my soul and I find my appetite is expanding.

I could easily over indulge. I am lucky that my Master is the man he is, is a bit of ascetic. Even though he enjoys the sight of me in pain, likes to hear me scream, he genuinely believes that there can be too much of a good thing. He is naturally suspicious of any kind of drug or diversion that takes me too far away from him and his control. He does not like it when I slip into the endorphin fueled thing called subspace or runner’s high or what have you. He usually will call an end to my journey once I get quiet and that zoned-out look replaces my cries and the expressions of pain, delight and discovery. There is no way I can become a true glutton, he doles out my tastes of agony like the tiny squares of dark chocolate he allows me from time to time… frequent but carefully measured out to always leave me wanting more.

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