This is the BDSM portion of the site known as The Gorean Reference.
While Being Gorean has nothing to do with BDSM, and BDSM has nothing to do with being Gorean, there are obvious overlaps in philosophies and practices of the individuals involved in each segment of society. I don't call them lifestyles, because to some, they are a way of life, to others they are merely diversions, and for some they are just kinks to fill 'down time.' This place is not meant to help anyone decide anything, but merely as a perspective and accumulation of information. After the poems is a list of links that might also be helpful. Enjoy your visit.

TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND

'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.

"What am I bid, good folks?" he cried.
"Who'll start the bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar - now two, only two -
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?"

"Three dollars once, three dollars twice,
Going for three" BUT NO!
From the room far back a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;

Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening up all the strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.

"A thousand - and who'll make it two?
Two thousand - and who'll make it three?
Three thousand once and three thousand twice -
And going and gone!" said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand.
What changed its worth?" The man replied:
THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND.

And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and torn with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.

A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,
A game - and he travels on,
He's going once, and going twice,
He's going - and almost gone!

But the MASTER COMES, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
BY THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND!

By: Myrna Brooks Welch

A potter made pottery on a potter's wheel. Using the illustration of pottery, he shared a profound message on the necessity of brokenness in the hands of the Master. He surprised us all by taking the formless lump of clay and violently throwing it to the ground. As he knelt over it, he began the wedging process. The kneading is to work out air pockets and impurities so that the forming vessel will not fall apart under the stress of spinning on the potter's wheel. 

Using only a bucket of water to keep the clay from drying, several sharp instruments for cutting and shaping, and, most importantly, his hands, he threw the lump of clay onto the center of the wheel and began. 

The wheel turned and turned and he pressed the clay with his thumbs. A cone began to emerge which he shaped, reshaped, and pressed again. He commented that only the clay moves. His hands were perfectly steady because the clay must conform to the potter's hands, not the potter to the clay. He used very sharp instruments to cut away all that was not the vessel he was creating, even as the Master uses the sharp pains of training to train the slave that she might serve Him. 

To illustrate the kindness of the Master, he put another lump on off center that had not been wedged. While he was working with it, it suddenly fell apart spewing wet clay in all directions. It made a mess. He then took the half-formed vessel, waded it up into a ball, wedged it again, threw it back on the wheel and started anew to made a vessel of honor out of it. He explained that the Master isn't afraid to start over in our lives if we fall apart. Those hidden things in the slave, those unknown problems, act like impurities in the clay. Though they may be hidden from human sight, sooner or later they will emerge and must dealt with or the clay will be forever half formed. 

I noticed how much the potter enjoyed working with the clay, how he didn't mind getting his hands dirty to create a new vessel. It was a messy process but the pots and dishes he made were wonderful to behold! 

He spoke of those dry times that often follow seasons those times when you are soaked to overflowing with the presence of the Master. He explained that the drying times were important so that the vessel would retain its new shape. The dry times, those desert seasons are as critical as being on the wheel. He would put his new vessels on the shelf and sort of "forget" about them until they were ready for the furnace, much as the Master does when He seems distant, your begging is as silent screams, and you feel abandoned and alone in the cold universe. 

The potter didn't demonstrate the kiln, but he spoke of the glory of the firing, when the vessel glows white hot at some 2000 degrees. All the impurities are burned away. The silicon within the clay turns to a kind of glass and the beauty of the vessel begins to emerge. He said that firing is usually done with groups of vessels and it was critical that all be ready for the fire, because one vessel could explode and damage the rest. In the house of the Master, when one falls, it affects everyone around them.

Mastery: a poem

Passion of the Man-beast: a poem

Suggested Reading List

Relationship Red Flags