BR@17/02/02 Late Night Walk in the Woods

Being Rubber @170202-0100 Late Night Walk in the Woods

(From: Being Rubber; an Epistolary Novel of Deep Rubber Fetishism by Ataraxia)

Dear Marla,

I couldn’t sleep. Yeah, I was sleeping in nothing but the latex body suit. This was something I had been doing regularly since Frank departed, so my mind-body had become well adjusted to it. It was the “norm” for my sleeping. Emotionally, there was nothing was particularly bothering me. I liked my new job. Something in my body chemistry was probably off somehow. It might have been the new brand of pizza we had for dinner that night — the pepperoni seemed to be especially spicy. Anyhow, I tossed and turned.

Finally, at around 1a.m. I got out of bed. Light from the full moon was streaming in through the big sliding glass doors and played on the floor. The woods outside were illuminated and seemed inviting. Maybe a little bit of fresh air would help me get to sleep.

In the two months or so that I had been there, I had never seen a single soul in the woods. I had begun to take the extreme isolation of the Hahnastery for granted. I felt quite sure that there would be no one roaming around in the woods at that hour to see me.

But it was a tad on the chilly side. I didn’t want to go out there in just the latex body suit so I put the heavy natural rubber butchers apron that Mr.Hahn had given me on and slipped into some shoes. I opened the door, boldly stepped out on to the deck which extended the full length of the back of the house. A second glass sliding door at the dining room also opened out on to it. It was home to a wide assortment of typical deck furniture, the hot tub and and a gas grill.

I wandered a little ways out into the woods into the cool, moist night. I came to one of my favourite spots next to the creek and not far from the house. As always, there was a light mist which made everything glisten with moisture. Even though I was quite familiar with the trees, ferns and other things that lived along that path, they looked completely different in the moonlight. Their shadows and colours were all different now. I sat on my favourite rock for a few minutes, enchanted by all of this.

That is, I enjoyed it until the first mosquito bit me. Then another! Damn bugs! All of the enchantment suddenly disappeared as my attention shifted to swatting at them defensively. Soon I became aware of even more mosquitoes who had, apparently, smelled my blood and began to gather around me for a feast. Shit! They ruined the moment!

Then I had an idea. I quickly returned to the house and put my old black latex catsuit and hood on along with some gloves and a pair of steampunk-style goggles to cover my eyes. I also had a gag attached to a piece of latex that fit over my mouth. There! Except for two small holes for my nostrils I was completely enclosed in my “bugsuit”!! Finally, I put the heavy latex apron back on to protect my suit from scrapes while out in the woods. Ok, bugs! Try to bite me now!

I went back out into the woods to my rock and sat down again. Soon I could hear the mosquitoes flying around my ears and occasionally see them in the moonlight but, as expected, they could not get at my skin to bite me. They seemed to give up on me after a while.

At first I could not feel the magic of the woods because the latex seemed as a barrier isolating me from the sensations of what was around me. However, I soon realized that I could feel small breezes and the coolness of the moist air condensing on my suit. I could also feel the uneven surface of the rock I was sitting on. My mind was adjusting to my total enclosure. Latex is a particularly good conductor of both heat (and cold) and tactile perceptions — perhaps much more so than just about any other fabric. I could also hear well through my latex hood and see well through the glass lenses of my goggles.

But I still felt isolated from the outside world, “protected” from it by a thin layer of skin-like latex. I was, so to speak, “anaerobic”!

My awareness of the raw sensation of the latex against my skin had been slowly creeping into my general consciousness since I had put it on. It felt good — really good. It was like “going home”. Something in the depths of my being said this where I was “supposed to be”, as if it was where my heart dwelt. My fetish for rubber “talked” to me in the only language it knew: tactile sensation. Lots of it. It spoke directly to my skin in words about a wide range of pleasant tactile sensations which were overtly sexual at times but most were deliciously sensual and not focused on potential orgasm [[like a back scratch?]] . “What marvelous conversations! At times, it seemed reminiscent of my mother’s womb. It felt wonderful to be home.

I understood, of course, that the suit was not actually a living, sentient thing. It was just latex produced in a factory somewhere. It was the fetish doing this. The fetish, itself, was alive. Somewhere along the line I began to (playfully) think of my fetish as the manifestation of a sort of goddess of the latex rubber tree who has cast this enchantment on me since my early childhood (and for reasons I have never understood! Why me?) You can almost think of it as being a classic magic spell as in Sleeping Beauty and others. I call my rubber Mistress “Hevea”, from hevea.brasiliensis, the species name of the commercial rubber tree. It’s just a metaphor or trope[TROPE: (noun)The use of a word
or expression in a different sense from that which properly
belongs to it; the use of a word or expression as changed from the
original signification to another, for the sake of giving life or
emphasis to an idea; a figure of speech.]. I sometimes imagine it to be some sort of test in which I have been challenged to do something positive and constructive with the fetish.

However, after after a while I was surprised when snippets and teasers of new perceptivity began to become apparent. Something was happening. It was very subtle at first. I really cannot explain this very well except to say that I suppose I started to become very faintly aware of the energy field of the ferns and trees around me. Oh, this is weird — If I closed my eyes, I could still somehow feel them around me. I could for example, (and with my eyes still closed) sense that a big, benevolent, living thing was near me on my left. There was a faint tingling on my suit, almost as if the latex, itself, was some sort of ‘conductor’ of life force. When I opened my eyes, I could see that this sensation came from an big old tree a few yards away from me. I somehow knew that it was there! I closed my eyes again for a much longer period. This time I began to perceive some of the other trees and ferns around me. It was all very, very subtle, but it was enough to make me realize something special was happening here.

I stayed out there for an hour, caught up in the enchantment of this discovery. However, soon I began to yawn and shiver from the cold so I realized I should head back to bed.


Carpe Rubber Diem!

Carpe Rubber Diem!Seize the Rubber Day!

Your fetish is a gift. Celebrate it!

One way to do this is by wearing rubber mind fully and with a sense of purpose and devotion to yourself. Let it add new levels of richness, passion and depth to your life well beyond the sexual side of it. Make it “sacred” in your mind. Ritualize it. Wear your rubber as a “symbolic action with style” which speaks to your mind and heart but does not need to make sense in a literal context. Cultivate a sensitivity to symbolism and metaphors. Use your rubber rituals to provoke your imagination and creativity in the mundane acts of everyday life.  In a life animated by rituals there are no insignificant things. Think of your garments as a “shrine” to your inner being.  Try doing simple rubber acts every day, solely and deliberately, for the purpose of doing those acts as an end in themselves. They do not need to be grandiose or lengthy or involved. Doing them with regularity is much more important.  Focus your attention on the “now” of the rubber on your body. Practice rubber mindfulness. Keep in mind that rituals are symbolic acts. Wear rubber for the sake of wearing rubber.

(Note that a “ritual” is an act or symbolic gesture deliberately intended to mark an event as special or sacred. It need not be logically connected to nature of the event itself. Shaking hands when you meet someone is a classic example of a ritual to symbolically mark the occasion as being special. It can be totally spontaneous, unrehearsed, unscripted and it need not be repeated. It is the intent of the ritual that matters. It is very different from a “habit” which is mindless repetition of a mundane act. A “habit” lacks the deliberate intent of a ritual.)

This does NOT mean that you have to wear several layers of rubber for hours and hours, totally enclosed, etc.  Certainly, these more demanding, intense activities can be rituals, but there are also many, many much simpler, much less demanding rituals as well. For example, you might keep a box of disposable latex gloves in your car and create a daily ritual of deliberately wearing a rubber glove only on your left hand during your commute to work.  This simple act, done regularly and with a sense of purpose and ritual symbolism, becomes an act of devotion. It is a way to “seize the rubber day” and express your life more creatively as an “art”, which makes it more worth living.

Research the concept of “mindfulness”. This is a very simple meditative technique that anyone can do virtually any time, any where and for very short bursts of time — even just a few seconds at a time.. It can be readily adapted to your rubber rituals and will add significant depth to them and, ultimately, richness to your life.

Be an explorer of your soul — a pioneer. Look for possible pathways to spirituality through your fetish. Think of yourself as a kind of “Priest/ess” of your own temple. Seek value, virtue and substance well beyond mere sexuality in your fetish. Use your fetish energy to create a personal culture to improve the quality of your life and, perhaps, enhancing it’s spirituality whilst not disturbing or conflicting with your real “religion”. Think of it more like an “art of living” concept much like Yoga or meditation.

For whatever reason, your fetish is part of you — it runs deeply within you. It’s a fundamental part of your identity.  Do something positive with it! Make it a creative expression of your soul.

Make your fetish your “art”! Celebrate rubber!

Seize the Rubber Day! Carpe Rubber Diem!

Seize the Rubber Day! Carpe Rubber Diem!

rubgbernaut at rubbernaut dot com