Serenity & Leather: Refuge

Just got back from a Leather function with the local Leathercorps tonight with a lot on my mind. And reading some writings from a fellow Leatherman, I had to put fingers to keys and get some things out.

The week has been a trying one.

After getting back from an intense and enjoyable retreat among queer veterans in the wilds of Utah, the past few days have served as a period of readjustment to life back here. Among the world. There have been times when I wished I could be back among my veteran brothers and sisters, sharing and joking and carrying on about military minutae. There have been times when the small pain of separation has creeped in. It's a pain I haven't felt in years, literally.

Realizing how much we need one another and how much we have in common based on our life experiences is something I have found is what we, as people, need. It's hard to be able to relate your life to someone who has not experienced what you have. The disconnect can be drastically draining and, at times, deadly.

Living in recovery has taught me many things and has exposed strengths I didn't know I had.

The ability to weather physical storms of pain and exhaustion are what I've learned. Stressful situations can be dealt with in rational manners and acceptance of non-control is getting easier. I can no more control the weather than I can control the flow of post-workday traffic. And that's okay.

It has also exposed weaknesses within my being.

Cutting down to the core of my psyche and breaking down the fears and anxieties I've harbored while I tried to keep them at bay with addiction, my shortcomings and the like are brought to light. Abadonment and willful self-ignorance are brought from the sifting of my spirit like bones in an archaeological dig.

These discoveries have brought with them mists of gratefulness and shame. The arrival to complete self-awareness is a long way away. I know this.

Carrying out veteran outreach has been a jarring experience. Coming to know that there are spirits out there that need release through cathartic sharing is apparent. I know my veterans need to talk about what is going on, be it daily frustrations or painful life scars, they need to speak and be heard. I know this because I, too, need it and need to be understood. Carrying out my first peer-to-peer task has weighed heavily on my heart.

The lack of sincerity in caring for the battle-scarred men and women is appalling and I've heard it. And I've felt it more intensely this past week.

Tonight, I took the time to wrap myself in the embrace of my Leatherfolk. Zipping up my boots, donning my wristbands and wearing my cover, I reluctantly stepped into the Community. Reluctant because of all that weighed on my heart and my mind. My shoulders tightened by the stress and my head heavy with pains, I stood there taking in my surroundings.

There was a camaraderie among these Folk that I haven't experienced before. As we piled wood upon the pyre in the back area, it wasn't left to just one to keep the crowd warm. The effort of one kept the masses happy. Chaps, harnesses, caps and vests shone in the firelight as I gazed at them all: my Tribe. In those moments, we crowded around the fire, talking, laughing, flogging.

"What stories we all hold in the creases of our leathers?" I wondered. Sensuality, experience and respect surrounded us. Our skins holding scenes of submission and dominance, of respect and of caring. Consensuality coursed in nearly every caress, blow and embrace around that fire. Sirs/Daddies and their boys, Masters and their slaves, the solitary Leathermen and the curious all mingled in a handsome mass of flesh, breath and leather. I took it all in.

This is where I belong, I realized, in this time when my soul felt heavy, it was this place that I felt a sense of calm, of release.

Talking and feeling the warmth of the fire and brushing skins, it was all a salve to my bruised psyche.

Departing the circle was difficult but I hadn't felt this complete since those days in the Utah wilderness. I took that sense with me on the drive home.

I'm glad to be a Leatherman.