It's Not Personal, Sonny

  There's a great scene in The Godfather where the Corleone family contemplates an uncertain future.  Don Vito lies in a hospital bed, clinging to life after an assassination attempt by other forces in organized crime who see Don Corleone as standing in the way of their entry into the massively lucrative heroin business.

  At one point, a young Michael Corleone suggests to Tom Hagen, the consigliere, and to his older brother Sonny, running the family in the Don's absence, that their problems will be solved if they assassinate a certain New York City police captain and the mobster who's facilitating the Mafia's entry into the drug trade.

 Michael suggests that they agree to a meeting -- a meeting at which Michael will kill the police captain and the heroin distributor.  The following exchange then ensues:

Sonny: What are you gonna do? Nice college boy, didn't want to get mixed up in the family business. Now you want to gun down a police captain. Why? Because he slapped you in the face a little? What do you think this like the Army where you can shoot 'em from a mile away? No you gotta get up like this and, badda-bing, you blow their brains all over your nice Ivy League suit. C'mere. [Kisses Michael on the head] 
Sonny: You're taking this very personal. Tom, this is business and this man is taking it very, very personal. 
Michael Corleone: Where does it say that you can't kill a cop? 
Tom Hagen: Come on, Mikey... 
Michael Corleone: Tom, wait a minute. I'm talking about a cop that's mixed up in drugs. I'm talking about a - a - a dishonest cop - a crooked cop who got mixed up in the rackets and got what was coming to him. That's a terrific story. And we have newspaper people on the payroll, don't we, Tom? 
[Tom nods] 
Michael Corleone: And they might like a story like that. 
Tom Hagen: They might, they just might. 
Michael Corleone: [to Sonny] It's not personal, Sonny. It's strictly business. 

The scene is both funny and chilling.  Chilling because of the way Pacino somehow manages to convey the well-hidden steel beneath the surface, the subtle but absolute willingness to do absolutely anything, perfectly ordered and compartmentalized, even to the extent of murder.

I of course see a lesson in there . . . an important insight into the nature of Dominance.

When I look back at the mistakes I've made as a Domme, I can trace almost every one to a failure to separate "business" from personal.  

What exactly does that mean, though?  Especially since I Myself have written several times that I can't truly dominate without love being present, that the emotional aspect is so important?  

To distinguish personal from business means to separate what jeopardizes One's goals and what does not, when evaluating a situation.  It means to take into account everything that led up to the current moment, and to consider, then act, accordingly, with the wisdom and judgement the submissive has earned by committing him or herself to One.

If there is a situation, a mistake in judgement, some faux pas or other, the Dom/me needs to use the most important advantage the unequal power relationship affords Him or Her:  The power to take a brief pause, to allow that consideration and analysis to happen, before speaking or acting.  The Dom/me who punishes, physically or verbally, without taking that pause is making a mistake.

The distinction might seem picky, or strained.  These are interpersonal relationships, after all, not commercial enterprises.  But to Me, there is a mission, an objective, a desired future state to be attained.  And the pursuit of that desired future state, while it happens in an emotional arena,  is not in and of itself emotional.  And as such, when the One with the greater power lets His or Her emotions take precedence over the objective, then in a very real sense those being led are temporaril without a Leader.  And that's nowhere for one being led to be, even for a moment.

One does need to be able to express One's anger sometimes, of course.  But the wise Dom/me bears in mind that punishment should always be business, never personal . . . and that One needs, always, to find another outlet, another venue, to release that negative emotion.

Reputation And Substance, Part 2

"You don't like my music 
You don't have to use it 
Funkin is a thing that all of us release 
You don't have to get it 
All you do is let it 
Then you'll know exactly how to groove"

from "Get The Funk Outta My Face," The Brothers Johnson

There's another side to last night's post.

Just as it's easy to lose the message, to lose sight of the important things and lapse into a kind of drearily ritualized half-listening, half-being . . . it's possible also that we're too quick to think, to sincerely believe, even, that we have lost sight of the important things and sadly, to then act accordingly.

And even more amazing, to Me, is the insidiousness of this (sometimes) false idea.  It's so subtle, so stealthy, so . . . nearly invisible, that this post didn't even occur to Me until this afternoon.

Consider.  I think about these things, these kinds of ideas, all the time.  And, I like to think I've got a brain or two.  I consider every word I publish on this blog, multiple times.  After posting last night's entry, I thought I'd nailed it.  I was sad, because the conclusion of that post, which seemed inescapable at the time, felt sad to Me.  But I felt that "Reputation And Substance" was all I needed to say on the subject.

In the words of a great philosopher, "Go figure."

It is just as likely that we only think we've lost our way as it is that we might actually have lost our way.  Even if it's really difficult to be able to tell when we're really lost and when we only think we're lost . . . that's cause for massive relief and celebration.  And thus the Brothers Johnson snippet that introduced this post.

"You don't have to get it . . . all you do is let it . . . "

Reputation And Substance

Everyone not living under a rock knows that Bruce Springsteen was the halftime entertainment at the Super Bowl last night.

Bruce is a source of some (good-natured) back and forth between iris and Myself.  iris is a huge Bruce fan;  I, on the other hand, feel that Bruce jumped the shark a long time ago.  I don't know if it's ever-unchanging wardrobe, the vapid forays into political commentary, or just that his music isn't nearly as good or powerful as it once was, but Bruce does little for Me these days.

So, last night, predictably, iris and I had diverging views about the halftime show.  [Disclaimer:  I missed almost all of the first song.]  iris loved it;  I thought the song selection was regrettable at best [the ultra-lame "Glory Days" as the closer?], and Bruce's performance at times veered between haphazard [a very raggedly "Born To Run" was close to disgraceful] and hokey [adjusting lyrics for the city/event and the tried and true audience vocal segment].

But it got Me to thinking.  Often, when we are listening to an artist that we've come to love, we not only forgive a lot, but we reach a point where if we're not careful, we find ourselves simply listening to the artist's reputation, and responding to that, instead of to the emotional intent of the music.  

It's something I wonder and worry about in D/s terms.  It's been a long time the girls have been with Me.  I say the same things, in different ways, granted, but I say them . . . a lot.  Does it get old?  Or have I made it old, worse yet?  What part of indifference belongs to the teacher and what to the student?  Have I lost the emotional underpinnings of all this?

Or am I completely off base here?  Maybe My worries are totally unfounded.  

"Glory days . . . "

Burdens

"Now I don't know but I been told
it's hard to run with the weight of gold
Other hand I heard it said
it's just as hard with the weight of lead"

from "New Speedway Boogie," The Grateful Dead


I'm always saying that lessons come at the oddest times from the most mundane things. I say it and think it so often that sometimes I wonder if it's really true or I've just convinced Myself of it and can no longer differentiate lessons from well, random stuff.

Then something happens like what happened tonight. I was driving home and the voices on the radio were hurting My ears in that odd, hard to put words to way that sometimes happens. So I switched to the CD.

Song lyrics stick in Me, or wash over Me, or take Me back to somewhere, or shove Me forward, or, like tonight, just give Me a perfect little jewel of a lesson. I just have to be in the right place at the right time.

And tonight was apparently that right place right time . . . traffic came to a stop at just the right time, and those lyrics above could really seep inside Me.

So what's the wonderful perfect lesson?

More of a reminder than a lesson, really: Burdens are burdens. They all entrap and enervate us, despite how beautiful they might seem on the surface. It's folly to carry them around with us. Likewise, the ugly packages are no more worth lugging around, either. The beautiful ones make us feel important and proud when we carry them; the ugly ones make us feel noble and strong. Both are illusions. Let go.

Let go.