Locktober Reflection #18

This morning, as I walked into my kitchen and my eyes fell on the tree in front of our house – now dressed overnight in a coat of brown, beige, yellow, and orange leaves – I realized for the first time this year that autumn had truly arrived here in Germany, in all its force and beauty.

I don’t know how it is for you, but autumn has always held a special fascination for me. Over the past few days, the temperatures here have steadily dropped, and although a sunny autumn day like today invites you to go for a long walk, I find myself increasingly drawn to the comfort and coziness of my own four walls – where, with soft music playing, a warm cup of tea, and candlelight around me, I like to simply be alone with my thoughts, daydream a little, or reflect on the past.

And as I sit here now, listening to an autumn playlist on Apple Music and feeling the afternoon sun breaking through the clouds to touch my face, I find myself wondering how – and if – I can bring the words chastity and destiny into harmony with each other.

To explore this idea, I first had to reflect on what destiny truly means. For a long time, I didn’t draw much of a distinction between it and Schicksal – the word we use in German, often translated as fate. But fate implies that everything in my chastity journey – the people I’ve met, the experiences I’ve lived, the moments that shaped me – was already set in motion long before I had a say. Destiny, on the other hand, as I understand it today, is something different. It’s a path that still requires me to choose, to act, and to shape it with intention.

Because of course, it took concrete decisions and deliberate steps for me to ultimately choose chastity as my lifestyle – not because someone else told me to, and certainly not because I was forced to, but simply because I decided to.

What’s important to me here is that this was never a purely rational process where I weighed pros and cons or asked myself what was right or wrong for my life. Instead, I followed my feelings – my intuition, my inner voice. And what guided me most was one simple question: What feels right and meaningful to me?

Of course, as I’ve mentioned before, this process was far from linear. I experienced ups and downs, setbacks and disappointments. But one thing I never doubted was my fundamental desire to make chastity – and the wearing of my cage – something deeply mine, something that defines me and is inseparably connected to who I am.

That conviction helped me overcome moments of doubt that did arise. Naturally, I wondered how others might react, whether there could be negative consequences. But in reality, almost none of those fears ever materialized. I’ve never faced major rejection from people close to me, nor have I ever been humiliated or ridiculed for my choices.

At the same time, I want to acknowledge that a cage can be confusing – even unsettling – for others, especially those who have never encountered chastity before and might imagine things that don’t reflect reality. I’m sure most of us have experienced something similar with other kinks or fetishes. That’s why I try to approach my lifestyle with awareness and sensitivity – because there’s nothing to gain by alienating others.

Instead, I choose to invest my time and energy into writing reflections like this one. Because in many ways, I now see this – writing about my experiences, sharing my thoughts and impressions, and creating spaces for connection within our community – as my true destiny when it comes to chastity.

I’ve dreamed about doing this for a long time, but it wasn’t until this year that I finally dared to put it into practice – and looking back, it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Even though writing these reflections and thinking deeply about these topics takes time, I’ve realized that it brings me two invaluable things: greater clarity about my own journey, and a much deeper sense of connection with so many of you.

It also reminded me of a quote from the American researcher and author Brené Brown, who once said:

“Staying vulnerable is a risk we have to take if we want to experience connection.”

That sentence feels especially true on a day like today. And as the autumn sun breaks through the clouds once more, I’m reminded that destiny is rarely a grand, distant moment waiting for us somewhere in the future. More often, it’s woven quietly into the small choices we make, the stories we share, and the courage it takes to remain open and vulnerable – with ourselves and with each other.

Maybe that’s what destiny really is: not something written for us, but something we write together, moment by moment.