Consent could be split into before, during and after doing things to each other. ‘Before’ is knowing, guessing and predicting what something will be like, based on previous experiences of one’s own practice and one’s partners. It can be seen as an attempt to steer the interaction in the right direction. ‘After’ is the evaluation of what transpired. It happens directly after the play ends and can continue for weeks, months or years. In the best cases, it leads to learning something about oneself, and in the worst cases, to regrets and broken relationships. I want here to focus on the ‘during’ and on how to evaluate and communicate what’s happening in the now.

How to navigate consent in the thick of things, as it were, is tricky. Few come pre-programmed with the ability to artfully and respectfully navigate these emotionally fraught waters. In modern consent circles, it is popular to emphasise that not only is stated consent needed but, enthusiastic consent. I’ve never been 100% certain of what that exactly means. Possibly it means to always look for a clear and full-bodied ‘Yes’ during play, physical or verbal.

It could also mean being ready to accept at any moment a ‘no’, even in places where there was a previous ‘yes’. It is always possible, after all, to misuse prenegotiated consent as an excuse to not be present and attentive in the here and now, or to signal displeasure with someone for changing their mind.

But you wrote in your profile that you liked anal!

However, depending on how enthusiastic we expect our enthusiastic ‘yes’ to be, we might also limit what emotions are welcome in what space. It might be hard to be enthusiastically positive and cry simultaneously, for example. To better understand these conundrums, I need to dig deeper into the anatomy of a yes and no and how they function in an ever-shifting present moment.
I can see a yes in the present taking three possible shapes: encouragement, validation, and acceptance.

Encouragement would be driving your partner on by maybe saying yes, yes, yes, moaning in pleasure, or humming peacefully. Validation would be answering inquiries. Are you okay? Do you like this? And acceptance would simply be saying nothing if everything is good. Sometimes, one merely wants to float away and enjoy the situation. The same idea applies to both verbal and non-verbal communication. Non-verbal encouragement could be seeking proximity, validation to move along when one is led, and acceptance to simply be still. It’s questionable if acceptance is a yes, or maybe in some grey zone.

How Trauma Impacts Our Ability To Say Yes and No

Before going on, I think I must define trauma and triggers concerning saying no. This time briefly because I’ll return to the subject many times, each time more in-depth. In short, a traumatic experience is being pushed outside one’s window of tolerance. This can be defined as the range and intensity of experiences that we can at any given moment tolerate. This range may be narrowed or expanded by any number of factors, be they internal (how well rested one is, how effective a person is at self regulating stressors, etc) or external (such as work/relationship/financial stressors, etc). When a person finds themself outside of their window of tolerance, the body tends to respond with one of the F’s-Fight, Flight, and Freeze. While these responses are common knowledge, the social adaptation isn’t as discussed. To give it another F-name, this is sometimes referred to as the Fawn response. This is putting one’s personal needs aside to please or adapt to another. 

Trauma responses can occur either quickly, like in a car accident or repetitively, like being in an abusive relationship. The nervous system is built to deal with and resolve a traumatic experience, but if that process fails, then triggers may remain. Old remnants can instantly push the nervous system outside the window of tolerance into one of the F’s.

Some people know their triggers well, and others encounter them more like unexpected landmines. These ideas come from the work of Judith Herman in her book Trauma and Recovery (2015). Saying ‘no’ should not be traumatic if it happens inside the window of tolerance. But if the ‘no’ is not understood or ignored, it might lead to a trauma response (one of the F’s) and possibly a lingering trigger.

To break down the verbal no’s, I want to remix the FFFF model.

Verbal fight no: Stop it, asshole! I’ll kill you if you continue.

Verbal flight no: Please, no, can we maybe do this instead?

Verbal freeze no: Silence, unable to speak.

Verbal fawn no: Trying to please the other by faking a yes.

You can see that verbal freeze and fawn responses are very similar to an accepting yes, and this can cause miscommunication.

Then there are the non-verbal no’s.

Non-verbal fight no: Being aggressive, reclaiming space.

Non-verbal flight no: Moving away, giving away space.

Non-verbal freeze no: Stop moving, maybe losing bodily tension, being unresponsive.

Non-verbal fawn no: Trying to please by following along.

Again, miscommunication is a risk because the non-verbal flight and fawn no can be seen as a non-verbal validating yes. Fawning can even take the form of encouragement. So the best non-verbal no might be the fighting one because it’s evident and in obvious contrast to submission and surrender.

How Do I Know When To Say ‘No’?

Even I have dozens of ways to say ‘No’. The trickiest question is to know when to say no. One way is by sensing my nervous system and recognising how it feels to near the borders of my window of tolerance (if I even know the limits of that window). This is the embodied approach. If I wish to say no before getting too close to those edges, I would need to balance my assessment of the before conversation and anticipated consequences of consent. This would be to avoid the classic hangover phenomenon: it feels great right now but the aftermath is not worth it. One’s self-knowledge evolves gradually over time through practice and life experience. For example, knowing how many glasses of wine can I have without sacrificing the gym the next day. Or knowing how deeply I can surrender and submit while still feeling that I am taking care of myself. Sometimes too, a no might be related to a principle or person outside the current situation, like only wanting to kiss my primary partner, or having bruises from someone I play with regularly.

The idea from Michel Foucault’s book The History of Sexuality (1976) that I find intriguing is the concept of being guided by pleasure. In European or Christian societies, sex and sexuality are often defined and categorised into likes and dislikes, good or bad, hot or not, sacred or perverted. These definitions are based on societal agreements and relationships, but they take us away from the essence of sexuality as mere pleasure and into a realm where it is difficult to trust our instincts about our windows of tolerance. In contrast, a simpler view of sex is that it is only about pleasure or eros, and the best way to experience it is to listen to our bodies and be present.

But in contrast to all this active communication, there is the fetishization of passivity. All these ideas about yes and no, verbal and non-verbal, comes from wanting something. What if the strive is the complete opposite, to be a perfect doll, a corpse, or simply an object? Then any present reaction, muscle tension, or sound would be considered a no. The only enthusiastic consent would be negotiated in advance. It is hard to achieve, to silence any embodied response—mind over matter. That requires a deep state of submission. Nevertheless, I think it can be a great practice to understand the instinctual yes and no by only being allowed to feel but not to react, to stay in the feeling, so to say, and not get carried away with the chain of reactions.

40 

Standard Edition. Paperback. 499 pages.


20 

80Mb 7-day digital download. 499 pages.

It took forever, but my book is finally available—either as a printed paperback or a downloadable PDF. Watch the trailer on the left!

Dear unknown friend, to access the adult-rated material you must create a free account and log in. This is due to social media and their algorithms. Sorry for the inconvenience.

FIRST PARADOX

BEING AND DOING

SECOND PARADOX

SELF-SACRIFICE

AND SELFISHNESS

THIRD PARADOX

SELFISHNESS AND

HOLDING SPACE

FOURTH PARADOX

UNITY AND POLARITY

FIFTH PARADOX

SYMBOLS AND REALITY

FIRST RITUAL

SUBMISSION

SECOND RITUAL

DEVOTION

THIRD RITUAL

REJECTION

FOURTH RITUAL

DESIRE

FIFTH RITUAL

DEATH

“M”

Rituals and paradoxes- the intimacy of belonging in sadomasochism and esoteric eroticism by Andy Buru.

“Take my hand, follow me, be not scared, I got you”

“You do not need another guru, do not follow the man with a beard”- the words echoe in my mind when I start reading “Ritual and paradoxes- the intimacy of belonging in sadomasochism and esoteric eroticism” by Andy Buru, professional Japanese rope bondage practionner/teacher: besides almost being named guru, he indubitably takes a position of authority by publishing himself, and considering the subject matter and that I do in fact have some first hand experience of Andy (double-entendre intended) – should I not be a bit scared and keep distance?

Drawing from his extensive experience as teacher, body worker and personal life, Andy approaches the subject through a set of paradoxes that are defining sadomasochism, or “eroticization of pain and power”. These paradoxes create polarities which sadomasochism explores through careful and compassionate play with the inherent tensions that varies between individuals and the power dynamics of ”dominant/submissive”. The resulting book, a solid block of nearly 500 pages, reaches however far beyond an introduction into bdsm, a guidebook, or a collection of personal reflections.

Instead, the aim is to bring attention on esoteric qualities of sadomasochism, as in the ritualization of sexuality towards enlightenment or union with God/Divine. Sadomasochism, with its inherent polarities, has according to the author a high potentiality to address deeper needs usually associated with spirituality, such as belonging, submission, self-sacrifice, and devotion, which according to the narrative are not promoted in our pleasure-seeking western societies (“joy joy lala land”) that mostly focus on achievement and selfishness, on “doing”. The sadomasochism that Andy presents and cultivates provide thus as a contrast a safe playground to discover or further dive into meaningful and transformational states of being.

So what am I holding in my hands? First of all I cannot hinder to be seduced by the format and structure. After all, the presentation is significant when your topic is rituals, and the writing project in itself is introduced as mystic for the author: a compact volume beautifully segmented all in black and white by the paradoxes that define sadomasochism, visually chaptering the thought in numbered lemmas/verses, accompanying poetic lines followed by a clear, straightforward prose, occasionally punctuated by Andy Buru’s warm humour, at the rhythm of sneak peaks into his very intimate (at times thick and sick) diary. Abstract concepts are both cleverly illustrated and made tangible through illustrations and a selection of tastefully curated photographies taken by the author himself during his sessions, seducing with their raw beauty and display authentic vulnerability.

“Rituals and Paradoxes” is a companion to anyone’s own paths of self-/collective exploration- practical or intellectual. Andy Buru acts as a Virgilius, not taking down seven levels of hell as one might associate sadomasochism to, but truly accompanying the reader on a journey. His written edifice is a temple where the dark meanders of eros find light and love, in which the paradoxes are pillars and a room for rituals are formed/performed, and where the self is absorbed in the community. Pushing the comparison further, one might find that the fragments of experience that Andy Buru shares, at moment heavy and intense as incense, are counterparts of the vibrant paintings hanging in the side-choirs of a baroque church. (The dramatic lives of saints and martyrs, full of suffering and self-sacrifice, are after all early tangents to the world of bdsm).

The Reading of “Rituals and Paradoxes” could be an invitation into a sacred place with many shrines and as such be decisive or it may stay at the level of a mere tour, an exotic sight-seeing of deviancy and perversion, depending on maturity and receptiveness of the reader. One anecdote from the book (or should I qualify it as a votive picture in adoration for the Japanese culture and to which the author is so indebted?) may provide some evidence of the author’s expectations on the reader: a flower arrangement school in Japan, where everyone gets the degree, but you would, by paying proper attention, be aware of if you actually got to the deeper sense or not.

I think that the strength of the book comes from this sensible approach, where the mystery, despite being unfold for us and made available in words, by the end of the day needs to be “felt” as well, or to paraphrase the first paradox, “to be”. Regardless of your previous experience in bdsm or more generally within sex, or your degree of self-knowledge, the book has nonetheless something essential to offer as an invitation to discover or further explore the vast inner universe that is yourself and your sexuality, but also, by making you sensible to the esoteric dimensions involved in bdsm and thus to elevate your practice to a profoundly metaphysical act.

Yes, Andy, maybe I will take your hand, and follow you, I am not scared, you got me.