Over the years, desire has evolved beyond duality—yes, it’s a play of words. In the esoteric world, there is a notion that everything is one beyond the duality of polarity. And everything is just vibrations, mass and energy, they say, you know. But in my case, it’s very pragmatic, in the sense that no exercises will be done with just two people. Instead, we always work in trios and quadruples, solo by ourselves or together with the entire group. We will actively avoid the simple polarities of dominant/submissive, leader/follower, etc., because they are simply already explored. But there is a deeper reason: growing up in today’s society, most things get polarised, into black or white, left-wing or right-wing, masculine or feminine. Similarly, many concepts work by comparison; something is hot because something else is cold, and someone wins because another loses.

The esoteric eros is different because it embraces the ever-changing complexity of things and attempts to play with them in a win-win situation. Expect cognitive dissonance instead of straightforward truths because that is how the eros works—it’s a messy maze of desire filled with opportunities to explore. How do we know what to pursue intimately with others, and what should remain a private feverish daydream? It all comes down to being safe, brave, and vulnerable enough to share it. It’s not about you and the love of your life, happily married forever after, as promised in the fairytale of duality. Instead, it’s about being adopted into an ensemble of elegance and absurdity, where your forbidden desires appear petite and playful—BUT without turning into a circus or joking away the seriousness of the situation—this is the balancing act I offer you. And I do it because your desire deserves it.

Note: ANDY BURU x DESIRE in Amsterdam December 14+15 will still offer the option of duality, as that was announced before this five year revision of the curriculum.

At the Bode, a note from my personal kink journey

Christianity is my kink, I think to myself while re-listening to this lecture series about meaning-making, the ability to make sense of the world from a historical and psychological perspective—hours and hours about the language, grammar, and thinking that defined the transition from Hellenism to Christianity—Socrates, Plato and Aristotle via Alexander the Great and Marcus Aurelius to Jesus and his disciples. There is this idea that haunts me about being with the Gods, using them, pleasing them, bribing them—to have them on your side—in war and in love. Something only available to the abled male citizens, the kings and warriors. And then comes Jesus, offering Agape, unconditional love to everyone. When you give a banquet, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind… Lucas 14:13. But of course, it gets corrupted, like when Adam and Eve eat the apple and become mere sinful perverted horny humans. A great place in Berlin to observe this is at the Bode Museum, with its grand halls of depravity hidden away in endless sculptures and paintings from hundreds of years ago.

We matched on a dating app a day prior. My presentation is rather direct, as I don’t chit-chat much and am rarely in the same city for more than a few days—I want to stalk you in one of my favourite museums, I write her with a smiley.

The brave stalkee arrives at the museum early before the tourists and school classes. They bring a book to read, something poetic and erotic. It gives the stalkee a reason to sit down among the old marble statues, making themselves easy to find. At first, I’ll observe the stalkee from a distance, evaluating the choice of skirt—preferably tight knee-length—and shoes—low heel-toes visible, maybe ballerina flats—and tied-up hairdo. The neck, throat and jawline must be clearly visible. Once the stalkee feels themselves being observed, they will stay absolutely still and keep reading their smutty words while I come closer. When the intensity becomes too much, the brave stalkee will stand up and walk to see the exhibition. If they stop again, I’ll come close and eventually touch them, but nothing too vulgar or extreme. If especially brave, they’ll seek out the crooks and corners where no prying eyes will see us. Maybe, most importantly, they may not look at my face because that’s our stopword if things get too intense. Instead, if possible, they shall remain focused on suffering sinners, crucified in surrendered ecstasy, the subtle warnings of immoral behaviour, and what comes to those who fall victim to their lusts.

At the Bode, there is a balcony overwatching the first main hall. I think it’s mainly used as a passageway between the east and west upper galleries. The heavy wooden doors open and close slowly, with a reverberating echo, making it easy to know when the stalkee is alone with me—but most visitors never go there. Eventually, she allowed me to get very close. Her heart raced, and her skin shivered under my breath. So I took her by the hand and led her there—to that balcony. She obediently lets me place her hands on the marble barricade as we watch new museum visitors enter and leave the grand stone hall underneath. Lifting the skirt just an inch reveals her thighs radiating hot. Her red manicured nails claws at the marble, so I put my hand on her hand. With a gentle kiss on the bare neck, I leave her waiting, eyes closed, not daring to watch—distorted voices and footsteps echo all around—disorienting her feverish fantasies.

Later, she tells me about growing up Catholic in the American South and her first confession—how she believed that the priest could forgive everything—in the name of Jesus Christ, our saviour. Later, when discovering her perverted fantasies as an early teenager, so forbidden that she knew that the priest could never forgive them—she kept them hidden inside, so they grew.