One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.
— Carl Jung
Some of the feedback I’ve received over the year since starting this newsletter has been complaints about my tone—how I come off. Before I fully address that, let me say this:
When I’m asked what valuable skill I learned most from my time in the military, I don’t give the same clichéd answers to the same clichéd question, which is exactly what this is. No, the most important skill I picked up was learning how to get past the tone of what’s being said (and, in the case of boot camp, being yelled at) and focus on the substance.
Why else the first thing a recruit faces—when they step off the bus in boot camp—is a drill instructor yelling in their face? It’s to teach them, from the start, not to focus on the “tone” of an order but the “substance.” Because in that recruit’s future, when they’re deployed, the harsh and alarming tone of an order might be exactly what they need to hear to stay alive while carrying it out.
Fast forward a few years after my time in service, I accidentally found myself in a consensual power dynamic with a “Switch” who wanted to teach me how to first find the balance between tone and substance before fully switching her polarity in the Dance, as she called it, to that of a fully trusting Submissive—having proven to her, through the trials she had put me through (to put it mildly), that I “get it.”
And in getting it, she could trust that I not only could get past the tone—the times she would need to communicate something that represented a danger not only to her but to both of us, without fearing that she would hurt my feelings or make me angry—but that I could also get past the tone of her body language.
Sometimes her body can say “no” while her words are saying “yes.”
If I can pick up on that, she can trust that I can get past the tone of disappointment that would be in her voice when I stop because—while not a life-or-death situation—not stopping could lead to her feeling regret afterward and possibly considerable trauma as a result.
Thus, the Dom must show that he has the courage to say “no” and stop, rather than worrying about pleasing her. This is often a trait of a particular type of man who, in trying to hide his badness—his Shadow—becomes overly accommodating instead of telling her “no” and risking the shame of not being considered a “nice guy.”
And for the Domme, she must also show that she has the same courage—not only to stop but also to keep going. Women face a different battle with their Shadow. To hide her badness—her Shadow—a woman might become overly puritanical, avoiding the risk of shame that comes from outwardly owning her power and her pleasure, rather than risking being called a “slut.”
It may be difficult for most women to accept (the ego expressing resistance to vulnerability), but this is the reason why women in consensual power dynamics would want to be called a “Good Girl”; the shame becomes a prison that the assuring words of a Dom help free them from.
Similarly, it’s just as liberating for a man to have his Domme call him her “Good Boy” because of the conditioning most men experience in childhood, trying to survive the Devouring Mother archetype1—the Dr. Frankenstein responsible for creating the monsters of the Nice Guy that women are forced to deal with.
So, to address the complaint, I write what I write, with the tone that I do, because of my belief that it’s not healthy for anyone to hide their badness. You will find in my stories men and women battling their Shadows. You will also find them fully integrating their Shadows so that the foundation of their Persona would no longer feel like a prison but their authentic true self because they would have been liberated from their shame.
The tone of what I write also serves a vital purpose. It’s to filter out those wouldn’t be able to get it, or refuse to get it, and would attempt to shame Content Creators like me into falling in line or else risk being called arrogant, narcissist, and the worst one of them all—toxic.
I don’t want to be beholden to audience capture2 so I refuse to modulate my tone. This is me putting you, the reader, through your own trials, because make no mistake, my content is meant to “try” you the same way I had been.
And because that’s my approach, it’s important that I clearly lay out the boundaries of this parasocial dynamic that had been put into place the moment you subscribed—clicked a link.
I am a Dom—the content will imitate life.
If there’s something in the substance of my stories and opinion pieces that could possibly save not only your relationships but also your life—especially for men who, because they’re unknowingly locked into their Covert Contracts3, try to top in their relationships from the bottom and end up angry when they see that doesn’t work—then please get past the tone.
For those who can’t, please unsubscribe; I wish you a good life.
The philosophy behind the ideas I’ve shared here is at the heart of my novel, The Beautiful World of the Alive. It contains a section called The Labyrinth that fictionalizes the real-world scenario where I learned how to “Dance” with my Switch. The novel is available in eBook and paperback on Amazon.
The Devouring Mother archetype, as described by psychoanalysts like Carl Jung and later popularized by figures such as Joseph Campbell, represents a maternal figure who overprotects, smothers, or manipulates her child under the guise of care. This archetype often leads to the child becoming dependent, lacking autonomy, or struggling with unresolved guilt and shame. In many cases, such a dynamic fosters the creation of the “Nice Guy” persona, where men, conditioned by maternal approval, seek validation through excessive accommodation, repressing their own needs and desires. The result is often a fractured sense of self, which can manifest as resentment, passivity, or covert attempts to control others.
Audience Capture occurs when a content creator, often unconsciously, tailors their message, tone, or persona in order to appeal to their audience’s preferences, expectations, or desires for validation. This can lead to the creator modulating their tone, style, or content to maintain popularity or avoid criticism, often at the expense of authenticity. The result is a shift away from the creator’s original vision or message, driven by the desire to retain or grow an audience rather than staying true to their own beliefs or artistic intent. Audience capture can undermine the integrity of creative work, reducing it to mere entertainment or superficial engagement, rather than fostering deep, meaningful connections based on shared values.
Covert contracts refer to unspoken, often unconscious agreements where one person gives something with the expectation of receiving something in return, but without explicitly stating that expectation. This dynamic frequently occurs in relationships where one partner (often the “Nice Guy” in the context of the Devouring Mother archetype) feels they must act selflessly or meet certain expectations in order to gain approval, affection, or validation. These unspoken expectations often lead to resentment and frustration when the anticipated returns do not materialize, as the “contract” was never directly communicated. Covert contracts undermine authenticity and mutual respect, as they are built on hidden agendas rather than clear, open communication.