Microfantasy Monday, week 57 : contortion

Thanks as always to Ang, the Sweltering Celt, bringer of weekly Microfantasy Monday goodness.  The theme this week is Contortion.

I’m groaning to myself, short of breath and wondering how long I can hold the pose.  I’m also cursing myself for taking so long to get back to my yoga practice.  I know it will start feeling good if I stay with it, but for now contorting myself into the cow-face pose is extremely unpleasant and the bow pose earlier brought on painful cramps.  My mind, as undisciplined as my body, wanders off on the theme of pain and reward until it lands on a memory involving a scenario Roxy’s been building for me over the past few weeks.

She has an uncanny sense of what will trip me up at any given moment, even though it’s a moving target; the things I protest vehemently one week are what makes me wet with anticipation the next.  So she searches, rummaging through my dark corners like a treasure hunter, always coming up with something she knows she can use… against me, against my better judgement.. weaving risk and reward, humiliation and praise, pain and pleasure into a tapestry exposing my inner workings.  She doesn’t demand that I do anything I don’t want to do.  Her power is in her ability to persuade me to do the things I most want to do, but am most afraid to ask for on my own.  The power struggle isn’t between her and I, it’s between me and myself.

Getting into those poses requires complex contortions of the mind, twisting back upon myself, sliding past resistance and relaxing into acceptance.  Admitting what I want is sometimes so, so very hard but she makes it worth the effort.   Most of the things we do are mental, poses and scenarios imagined, drawn intensely across my mind’s eye, the afterimage causing me to shake and squirm hours, even days, later.   And afterward, even though the exercise is mental, the endorphin rush and complete relaxation is very much like that after a good yoga workout.

Releasing from cow-face pose, I flex my shoulders back and roll into plow pose, sighing deeply.  I can feel the tension in my muscles releasing as I accept the pose, letting go of resistance and allowing myself to exist in the moment.  My mind wanders again, comparing the discipline of yoga with that of submission.  Resisting, then letting go.  Getting into a pose, then becoming the pose.   Existing in the moment, freeing all the moments before and after.   Then I smile and giggle inside, imagining what she’d do to me if she were with me right now.

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