12 Days of Kinkmas – Day #4 – She Was The Wind


She was wind. She was rain. She was ice. 
Every night, as the clock struck twelve, she appeared in his courtyard.
Every night, without fail, he greeted her. 

Who she was, or had been, he did not know. 
All he knew was that she came with the winter,
that the Earth seemed to make her,
the leaves, trailing the wind in the outline,
caught in her hair,
formed her lips. 

The remnants of snow, lifted with the breeze,
formed her eyelids,
her expression.
When the clock struck one,
the leaves crumpled back to his garden,
and she would be gone. 

So enamoured by her was he,
that he would wait moments before the clock struck twelve,
just so he would be prepared. 
So enamoured was that as he spoke to her,
he kept his head bowed,
his tone low and gentle,
his knees in the Earth.

Each and every night, he told a tale of his day.
Each and every night, the woman listened in silence.
Sometimes he had questions –
Where did she come from,
Who she was,
But no answers came,
only the watchful, unreadable eyes made of ice.

Why him,
he would wonder during the day,
So lost in thought was he that he would forget to drink,
Forget to eat.
Why him why now why this place
he would ask her during the hour,
and still he would get nothing but a smile,
sweeter than any smile he had seen. 

So eager to see her was he one day,
That he was early to the hour,
Where the night kept him company
While he slept.

Me, Nudity & Mental Health

The other day I saw a scene in a tv show in which a child, maybe 13 at most, sitting in the bathroom talking animatedly to his mother while she bathed and it got me thinking.

I never had that open relationship with nudity in my family. Even being shirtless in the present makes my family seem to cringe – and it’s weird to me.

Did this lead to an unhealthy view point on nudity? I don’t recall any old world biblical lessons on keeping my clothes on, but I don’t remember a whole lot of discussion about freedom on the subject either.

I felt being nude was wrong, even in the privacy of my bedroom. I felt swimming naked was wrong, running in the woods naked was wrong – but I did it anyway, was drawn to it – not because of the wrongness I feel but because I merely wanted to.

I feel a bit blah about my body now, but that’s age catching up to me. That’s my lifestyle. I still wander my home naked and I encourage my lady to as well.

What would my life or mindset be like if I was exposed to nudity, or a more liberated lifestyle by my parents?

I’d like to think that if I had children – and don’t sentences like these go down well with actual parents! – I’d be less restrictive with my children to a certain extent and age.

A recurring aspect in this community I have found is a link between low self esteem and discomfort being nude at all. Is this a case of upbringing or the things I experience as I’ve gotten older – age catching up to us?

As a Mentor, I’ve helped some grow a bit more confident in their naked bodies and for that I am glad. Focusing on the positive is a wonderful thing and can bring up about a delightful lightness.

I’ll never know the answers to any of the questions I’ve asked in this ramble. I suppose that’s another one of life’s unsolved mysteries. And that’s okay, each day I’m naked as a way to live freely and lightly and I’ll forever remind anyone struggling with their own worth to do the same.

Cherish Her

Earn her respect.

Earn her trust.

Realise that she is not just a body meant to be offered up for your own fulfilment but that she has a heart, and she has a mind. Any imperfections are beautiful in their own right.

Furthermore, she chooses to give her mind, body and heart to you. YOU. Do you understand how important that is? How mind-blowing that is?

It’s not as simple as the leader at works becoming a willing slave behind closed doors. It’s not as simple as seeing what underwear she chooses to wear, or the way she feels against you.

Something so guarded and sacred and raw is being shared. This communion, this dark communion, is all for you, a gift from her mind. Either absolute or as much as she can give to you at this point in time.

Do not scold her when she falls, fails or forgets. Be a friend. A mentor.

Remind her gently. Teach her. Teach her for as long as it takes, give her as much as you can and forever be patient.

You are blessed, for she has her trust in you. She has let you into her inner world, something she maybe has fought to restore for years, something she has been challenging herself to do, something she might feel shame about.

Cherish her raw persona. Nurture it. Encourage her in her own life, in her own experiences, to seek what she truly wants, to be the best she wants for herself. Hold her when she falls and carry her dreams when she wavers.

I am in awe of those who submit. I am in awe of the teenager setting out for the first time, some I’ve had the distinct pleasure of crossing paths with, a wife putting her heart on the line to her husband, a mother putting aside her fears to explore for her own, the women hurt by their lovers, bravely trying again.