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Subspace: The Final Frontier

I was really excited to have the opportunity to participate in Total-E-Bound’s Subspace anthology. I loved the idea for the book, one of the characters must achieve subspace during the course of the story.

Many subs (or, to use a different term “bottoms”) who have experimented with BDSM achieve subspace, that psychological place where they “fly” or “float.” It can seem disconnected from reality, nothing exists but the moment. It’s an intense physical, psychological, mental, emotional reaction. Of course, a lot of BDSM scenes cause those kinds of sensations. Endorphins rush through the system, seemingly blocking pain, kind of like a drug in the sub’s system.

Subspace can be a sublime experience, but, at least for me, not something achieved all the time. I’m not sure about you, but I’m a pretty driven person in real life. I tend to be goal oriented. My schedule is packed tight, and I’ve built in rituals to make sure I stay on track and on target. BDSM takes me away from all of that.

I’ve learned that, for me, making subspace the goal of a scene causes disappointment. If I’m focused on the goal, I lose track of the moment. I’ve had to reset my expectations. If I reach that place of nirvana, fabulous. But I can achieve joy just from participating in a scene.

On the other hand, the really great news is this: there are other places in life where I can achieve the same kind of bliss.

From previous blog posts, you may recall I love to play racquetball and hike Colorado’s 14,000 foot peaks.

Last week, I met with my racquetball coach for a one hour lesson, then I played “challenge court” for several hours. I played doubles, partnered with some terrifically talented men. I realized that, by ten p.m., I had barely had anything to eat or drink for nearly four hours. I was drenched in sweat, and my legs were shaking so bad from exertion that I had a difficult time walking up the stairs at the gym.

Once those darned endorphins wore off, reality hit, and I was exhausted. My shoulder hurt. My muscles were burning. But until then, I had spent four hours “in the zone.” For me, the feeling of playing that much racquetball—something I love but is amazingly physically, mentally, and emotionally demanding—put me in the same state as an intense scene.

I sometimes achieve this kind of mental “flying” from writing. I can disappear into my characters and story, losing track of time, forgetting to eat.

At least for me, subspace and being “in the zone” are akin to an adrenaline high. I sometimes get it from skiing, as well. It’s like a white rush of fever.

Maybe that’s part of why I keep my life so disciplined. I like the emotional high that comes with intense focus. Yes, I know there’s more to life than an endorphin rush. So I try to take care of myself (sometimes easier said than done!). After all, when the next opportunity arises to “fly,” I want to enjoy it.

Here’s to YOUR bliss.

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