2016: A Year in Review

Holy shit, what a year.

When 2016 started, I had no idea what I was in for. I’m not going to lie, this year was an almost irrevocable shitshow. Some really fucking awesome highs, but some pretty abysmal lows as well. Not just for me, it seems, 2016 was hard for lots of people. I try and think on that as I look back over this trashfire that was 2016, I try and remember that no matter how hard it has been for me personally, there have been others suffering just as badly… and worse.

I’m tempted to say that this year has been a revelation that optimism for the future is a mistake, but something inside of me absolutely rejects that. You see, I like to think that I am fundamentally a good person. A poor human, maybe, but I wake up most days with the drive to improve, to better both myself and the world around me. I want good things for most people, and even with the shit that has gone down this year, I can honestly say that I still have no one that I can say I truly hate. If I’ve learned anything this year, it would be that hate really is the thing that we must always fight against. It’s so easy to fall into the miasma of anger and hurt and rage, and as Yoda so famously said, all of that is the path to the dark side.

Yeah, it’s a statement made by a fictional character, but it packs some very serious truth. It’s easy to dismiss it as just a silly thing said by a silly person, but I refuse to just accept that. Because while I can’t say this year renewed my faith in humanity, it has renewed some of my faith in community.  I watch and I see how people that have given in to anger and hate have devolved into people I can no longer recognize. I’ve seen good people become bad ones, and I’ve seen good people rise above their circumstances to trudge on, not giving into the anger that can come so very easily.

I’ve lost so much this year. It’d be easy to just dwell on that, to focus on that and just give up. Hell, it’s a fucking battle not to. My mental illness has reared its head in a very ugly way this year, and I’ve taken hit after hit to my faith in people, and my faith in myself. I’ve made some pretty big mistakes in my life, and this year, it was brought home to me how much those mistakes can cost me.

This year, I lost my connection to most of my family, the person I loved and continue to love with every part of me that still can love, my trust in the American electorate, and I very nearly lost my life. I learned I cannot rely on people I thought I could, and I learned that even though I like to think of myself as someone who is very observant, I missed something going on in my own home, and that cost me nearly everything. I didn’t see the damage that was being caused to someone I love, and even when I started to see it, I thought (selfishly) that I could handle it, that I was equipped with the tools necessary to just… fix everything. To my unending grief, I was so very wrong.

But even so, I also learned that there is an incredible strength in those I’ve chosen as family. So many of you stepped up and helped me in so many ways. I can honestly say that without your love and support, I would no longer be among you. There were so many times when I just wanted to give up, to just… go away. But not once did you let me go. There was always someone that stepped up and carried my burdens when I couldn’t, and I absolutely cannot thank you enough.

You taught me about love of family in a way that my actual family has so abysmally failed at. You taught me that there are people, LOTS of people, that care. That you won't let one of your own go quietly into the dark, surrendering to the morass of ills this world sometimes can be. This year taught me that my strength isn’t always enough, that I can’t carry everyone and everything, that I absolutely capable of cataclysmic failure. But you taught me that when my strength is gone, that you will step up and walk beside me until I have passed through.

“Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.”

In my grief, you were there. In my failing health, you were there. In my loneliness, you were there. In my weakness, you were strong. When I wanted to die, you gave me something to live for.

So many times this year has taken a swing at me, and even when I took hit after hit, there was someone or many someones there to help me back to my feet. Hell, some of you even took hits FOR me, and I have incurred a debt that I can never repay.

The world tried to teach me this year that love is not enough. You taught me that love is always enough. This gives me hope, and I look forward to 2017 with breathless anticipation.

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To the events that keep asking me back - Thank you for taking a chance on me. You have provided so many wonderful opportunities to meet and love so many amazing people, and I can only express my gratitude by continuing to try and exceed the expectations you have for me. Your trust in me is inspiring, and for that, I thank you.

To my students - I love doing what I do because of you. For each expression of wonder, for each wide eyed moment of understanding, for each breakthrough and expansion of self I’ve witnessed, these are my reasons for continuing to travel and share. So many of you have become more than just students or clients, you have become my friends, and that means the world for me. Your faith in me is humbling, and for that, I thank you.

To my play partners - holy shit, we’ve had some times, eh? I don’t understand why any of you would want to do some of the crazy shit we’ve done, but goddamn. I’ve had a lot of fun this year, and I’ve been the cause of a lot of tears, a lot of pretty vile oaths, some intense glares, and some really awesome moments of release. You share with me in ways that I am continuously in awe of, and the amount of love you have shown to me is staggering in its immensity. Your willingness to let go with me is amazing, and for this, I thank you.

To my fellow NARIX board members - This year was the year the experiment became a pattern. You have put up with my insanity, and together we have crafted a reality for a dream that many people said would never happen. You made me a believer, and you taught me that when we work together, we can make something truly wonderful. We have walked through the fire together, and that means more to me than words can adequately express. You dared to dream with me, and for this, I thank you.

To the bird - You taught me that I am not observant enough. You taught me not to ignore the words of my partners. You showed me that I can be manipulated by those that I trust, and that the single minded pursuit of self is shockingly destructive at the best of times. I learned a lot about my weakness because of your selfishness, and while I weep for the lesson, I have grown. I cannot forget what you have done, but I have learned that I can forgive you. Your machinations taught me regret as well as forgiveness, and for this I thank you.

To my chosen family - You have all stepped up and walked with me through the valley. You steadied me when I stumbled, you carried me when I fell, and you dragged me from my darkness in ways I desperately needed. When I wept, you wept with me. When I bled, you bled with me. When I broke, you held me together. You taught me that I am capable of crying tears of gratitude and love, and for this I thank you.

To ka - you taught me to live again. Together we explored a realm that was utterly terrifying for me. I learned that I am capable of feeling things, and your love helped me to genuinely feel alive. Because of you, I can see some people as people, and I was able to experience empathy in a way that was both immeasurably painful and breathtakingly beautiful. You helped me to become a better human, even though it came at the price of such heartbreak. I will never forget you, and I will love you until my heart ceases to beat. You were there for me when I needed you the most, and for this, I thank you.

To L - you love me even though I am broken. You love me even though I am incomplete. You love me even though I am failed. You love me regardless of my damage, and for this, I thank you.

To my kinky community around the globe - You taught me to have faith. In weakness, there is strength. In hate, there is love. You have surrounded me in love and support in ways I never thought possible, and for this, I thank you.

Three times is a pattern. (NARIX)

What a crazy ride it’s been.

We were basically kids, even though it was only five years ago. We were annoyed with the kinds of instruction we were getting at the cons we were going to. We went to these events, we met and compared notes, and realized that there was a gap between the kinds of things we wanted to learn, and the kinds of classes available. We wanted something more, something more complicated, something that challenged us.

Those late night bitch sessions were sprinkled with hours of intense conversation on very specific topics. We tied together, our fingers burned, our heads ached, our partners were exhausted, but our drive was all consuming. We had to know, we NEEDED to learn, to grow, to touch the infinite through herculean effort and a near insane dedication to a passion that burned within our hearts. Those conversations represented literally thousands of hours of time spent at home doggedly practicing our craft. Time and money. We’d spent both freely in this pursuit, and we gladly shared it with each other.

“What if there were more of us?” The question was obvious, but Shibaricon was never going to give us a room large enough to realized this barely tangible idea. Who were we? A couple of almost-nobodies. We’d all had a few pics go K&P, but our teaching experience was almost nil. We had no tangible presence in the Rope Pantheon that casually disseminated knowledge to the rope community. Those “gods” did their best, but we wanted more, and there wasn’t any place for it.

“What if we made that place?” Ha! The idea was laughable. None of us had the cash to fund an event. None of us had a place to even HOST a thing like that. “But what if there was?” Never. Not in a million years. Dejected, but not defeated. We had an idea, and we wouldn’t fail. The three of us? We each had a slightly different vision about what it would look like, but goddamn, if we didn’t have the dedication to make it work.

“EURIX. We could do something like that.” That was it. That would be our guiding idea, how we would start. But Europe is so very different from North America. Felix was doing some amazing things over there, but EURIX, as it was styled, wouldn’t work. But we had our visions, and we had to share it.

As we struggled with our dream, the rope community changed. We changed. We had started branching out, sharing our passion with others, and we were being recognized for it. Who were we? Just a group of rope nerds with dedication to a dream. People wanted us to share? How could we share? We were just students! But they asked, and they asked, and we did. We found others that were willing to share our dream, our vision.

And then there was a turning point, a place when we hit critical mass. We’d shared our vision, screaming our need into the void, and someone answered. “I can’t host this thing, but I CAN host a place for us to talk about it, and maybe we can find someone who can.” And three became four.

That was it. We met. We talked. Everyone was so excited, everyone was bubbling forth with ideas. It was intoxicating, exhilarating. THERE WERE OTHERS THAT WANTED THIS. Then, the impossible. “We can do it where I am.” And four became five.

Holy shit. There were five of us. AND WE HAD A PLACE. How did this happen? This was supposed to be a pipe dream! An impossible thing that OTHER people did. But it was happening. We built the place, we shared the dream, and we struggled with making that vision become a reality. We argued about everything. “EURIX does it this way…” “But North Americans won’t respond the way Europeans do. We’ve gotta do it THIS way”. Over and over, we hammered out the idea, until we had something that maybe, against all ideas, maybe it would work.

We opened the floodgates, and what was a trickle became a flood. “We’ve got to make decisions. We can’t accept everyone.” But what if there wasn’t another? How do we manage THIS many people? OH SHIT, there are LOTS that want to be there, to share this impossible dream. This suddenly POSSIBLE dream.

I don’t know how it happened. None of us really had any idea what we were doing. We brought our skills together, and SOMEHOW it happened. Three insane days, and our lives were changed. In the following weeks, we realized ours weren't the only lives that had changed. Somehow this dream that we’d sacrificed so much for had been birthed into this world, and people were listening.

Then it happened again. Sure, there were stumbling blocks, but we learned a lot and we evolved to match what was needed.

Then it happened again. Last weekend. Three times the impossible happened. Lightning never strikes twice, but THREE TIMES? Ben said it right. “Two times is an experiment, three times is a pattern.”

I can’t tell you how many times one of us would catch the eye of another, and a look of shock or bewilderment would pass across our faces. This was happening. Again. And again. And AGAIN. More than that, though. It was working. What had started out as a protest that we weren’t getting served had changed into something entirely unforeseen. We realized that it wasn’t just something that we wanted, but that LOTS of people wanted. And somehow we’d stumbled upon a way to make it happen.

It was never about us. Sure, we wanted to feed our own growth, but what we were doing was helping EVERYONE. Those initial conversations had shown us that it was something that would fill a niche that the bigger cons couldn’t fill. They served a hugely important purpose, created a space where a structure could be cut. NARIX was a place where those blanks could be hammered into shape, reforged, hardened. NARIX wasn’t about personal growth so much as it was about helping our COMMUNITY grow.

Inadvertently we’d created a place for the Tribe to congregate. Without meaning to, we’d built that Central Fire, and dancers came from all over the continent to share the Fire. Murphy’s said it so many times, but I never realized it until now. We are all singing the same song. I may have a part, a few phrases, but it wasn’t until I sang my part into the infinite with a whole chorus of others that I realized that my part was only a part of a much greater whole.

I realized I wasn’t singing alone anymore.

That’s what NARIX is. It’s not about me. It’s not about the board. It’s about singing the song with our tribe. It’s about finding family, and realizing that we all have something to share, something to learn from. That we can learn together, and we all get to share in the process of watching our song grow.

Just another rope guy.

I have heard it a thousand times, in a thousand different ways.

Aren’t you just another rope guy?

As if any of us could be encapsulated into a single overriding fetish. Sure, there are some that take their obsession with <<insert literally anything here>> and can become identified primarily with that one thing, but does that mean that they are ONLY that? I love Cookies ‘n Cream ice cream, but does that mean I am going to turn down a Rocky Road when it is offered?

Aren’t you just another rope guy?

I understand that rope is the vogue thing right now, and has been for the last several years. But, before that it was whips, and before that it was Gor, and before that it was something else. These things go through seasons, and yeah a bunch of really irritating people “jump on the bandwagon”, but that does not give you, me, or Lord High AllMighty SUPERDOM the right to disparage the entire fetish. So it may not be your thing for whatever reason, that does not mean that my kink is any less important to me than yours is to you. (And, vice versa, but that is another topic)

Aren’t you just another rope guy?

Yes, I am male, and unapologetically so. But I do not give a fuck about your gender, my gender, or anyone else’s gender. I think it should be irrelevant to anything aside from… oh wait, there is no exception. But I do identify as a male. Deal with it. But do not ever assume that because I am both male and a recognized adept in my chosen field that I am going to look down on you because you are none of those things. You are a young, attractive, curious female bodied person that identifies as a Rope Top? Fuck yes, let us talk rope nerd. You choose your own damn path, and I will interact with you in whatever role you prefer. Or multiple roles if you prefer that.

Aren’t you just another rope guy?

In this instance, yes, I am. I am a part of a community that has grown up around and blossomed within the greater kink community. There are lots of people that are like me that love rope. Even within that community, I am in an even further subcultured community in that I have a passion and skill that people have recognized and wish to emulate and learn from. That has brought me the benefit of knowing other incredibly talented and amazing people that share my level of enthusiasm and obsession with a thing, and that allows me to talk to them utilizing a vocabulary that a lot of people simply do not have.

But that does not make me special.

Aren’t you just another rope guy?

No. I am not.

And here is the thing that a lot of people seem to not realize or remember: I am a Leather Man first, a Daddy second, an Owner third, a Sadist fourth, and THEN I am a Rope Top. I have been in this lifestyle for a lot longer than you might think, long before I ever really started utilizing rope as a primary tool. Control, Domination/submission, sadism/masochism, protocol, eroticism, photography, all of these came into my life before I ever realized that I have a talent for a medium that people seem to love and obsess over.

I love rope. I really do. But it only features prominently in my life alongside many other things. It is a tool that I love to use, but in the end, it is just a tool. The passion I have is for people. I love touching people. I love communing with them. I love watching the person I am playing with run the insanity gauntlet of emotions while I am playing with them. I love being there when the realization dawns that they may have made a mistake, then the relief when it is over and they realize that they were stronger than they thought.

I love watching people fall in love with an experience. I love giving them that experience. I love tasting their fear, their hate, their love, their passion, their lust, their arousal, their excitement, their terror….. The list is nearly endless.

But that does not make me just another rope guy.

Traveling and sharing my passions with the kink community is really hard work. Most people assume that getting to do what I do is a dream come true, and in many ways they would absolutely be right. I get to spend half of my weekends each year doing crazy sexy cool things with some incredible people.

But it takes a tremendous amount of work. Hours and hours of practice. Hours of sitting in airports, or driving, or on airplanes, or busses, or trains. Even more hours developing classes that effectively communicate what people want to learn. It means living out of a suitcase for more weekends than I do not. It means (more often than not) spending this awesome and amazing time away from the people that I love. It means spending an entire day pouring my heart and soul into a thing, and going “home” to an empty hotel room, or at least one that my partner is not in.

It means a tremendous financial burden, because, shocking as it may be, kink presenters are not paid very much. Sure, we get to travel a lot, and now I will not travel unless the place I am traveling to picks up the tab. But that does not always mean breaking even. It means I often have to take extended days off of work to go and do something that I am passionate about, and to share it with people that are hopefully as passionate about it as I am.

It means that often I wonder if I am going to be able to pay my bills, because instead of working at my (not very lucrative job) I am sharing space with people I barely know. It is stressful and wonderful and exhausting and amazing and worrisome and incredible and lonely and and and and….

But you know what? I keep doing it. I choose to keep doing it. When someone reaches out to me, and asks what it takes to get me to go to whatever event, I work with them to make it happen. I give up my time, my health, my financial security, my sanity, and my private self, so that I can continue to travel and share and help people.

Why?

Because I am, at the end of the day, a Leather Man. That means that I hold to a path that I believe is far bigger than I am. That means that I ardently adhere to the philosophy that the skills and talents that I have do not belong to me. Rather, I hold them in trust for the greater community as a whole, and the people that will come after.

I have been presented with some amazing opportunities. Yes, I have worked very hard to acquire the skills and knowledge that I possess. I have dumped hours and hours of my time, loads of my money, and lots of blood, sweat, and tears into the skills that I hold.

But even when I have done everything in my power to acquire those skills, they would not be available to me unless I was a part of a community. A community that provides, that shares its' knowledge, that is welcoming, that is nurturing, that allows for opportunity to exist and the impetus to go and get it. So many people have stood before me, that have given me a hand up, shared advice, words of wisdom, of caution, of love, of motivation. I have sat for hours asking endless questions to people that I respect and admire, and they have sat there with me, sharing with me their knowledge and skill.

I am where I am today because someone who came before helped me climb that ladder just a little bit higher. They took some time to stop along their own path and to turn and shine a light back along mine to help me see where I am going. I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to each and every one of them, and I refuse to ignore that debt.

This is what Leather means to me. Yes, there are protocols, fetishes, codified knowledge, traditions, and rituals. Hell, there may even be some secret handshakes. But these are ever only part of the path, not the path itself. To me? Leather is about self actualization, about bettering oneself through the assistance and guidance of others. And when the opportunity comes for me to turn around and be that light for someone else? You better believe that I will turn and give it. Not out of hubris, or ego, or self aggrandizement, but out of humility, gratitude, a heartfelt appreciation for everyone who has done the same to me.

Aren’t you just another rope guy?

No. I am a Leather Man, and I am fucking proud to call myself one.