service

First, a truth:

You’re tired.

I know because I see you.

Out there having to perform a very specific version of masculinity. Juggling work and life and everything that comes with them. Watching self-care, exercise, good habits, and deadlines slip through the cracks. Wishing you could simply let go. Embrace your submission. Rest in the capable hands of a strong, dominant woman.

You feel every iota of the weight of those imposed masculine roles.

You feel every tug on your soul of every responsibility.

And what you want, what you need is this:

To let go.

To be yourself.

To find yourself in the first place. Because you know he’s in there, hidden by the box society shoved you into.

Sometimes, all you need is permission to let go.

So here it is.

Let go, kitten.

Rest.

Put yourself in her capable hands. Put your energy into service, into self-exploration, into care.

Rejecting the box society put you in isn’t weakness; it is strength.

Release isn’t cowardice; holding onto roles that no longer serve you is.

Courage is authenticity.

Authenticity requires surrender.

It’s work and it’s hard and it’s bone-deep relief all at once.

Let go, kitten. Let go.

When you pay for the coffee of the woman behind you in line, remember:

She could be me.

When you carry something heavy for a woman you’ve never met:

She could be me.

When you attend a party and offer to do the dishes at the end of the night, you could be doing it for me.

When you listen.

When you worship.

When you serve.

When you give.

You might be accidentally serving a goddess.

You see, we hide in plain sight. Vanilla jobs. Vanilla clothes. Vanilla grocery store runs. Until you learn to spot the divine, you will miss us. Even when you think you know how to spot the divine, you will still miss us.

We’re tricky like that.

Cloaked and hidden one moment, throwing electricity at you with a single glance the next.

But we’re there. We see when you serve. It gives us power, pleasure.

It gives me power. Pleasure.

It sparks attention. Intrigue. Especially when I can feel that you are doing it for no other reason but service to the divine.

Remember today that every small act of care toward the women around you is an act of worship. Even when I cannot see you, it pleases me immensely. And when I can see you, I remember.

I remember the quiet worshipers. The acts of sacrifice.

I remember you.