There is a studio at the top of the house. A large bed sits in a corner, and there are large oil paintings and candles everywhere. In the bed lies a motionless body. Almost asleep, as if dead. She is dressed in a simple white nightgown, and her hair is tied into a knot. Her breathing has slowed down so that it’s barely noticeable. I sit on the side of the bed. I raise her hand. It is heavy and as if lifeless but also reassuringly warm. I feel the pulse in her wrist. It is excited. Time passes while I get to know her body. The smell of the soft, smooth skin. Her heart beats in contrast with all the displayed passivity. Slowly, I taste her. Bite down hard. But she is good and remains entirely still. I look around the room. Find her wardrobe and choose the most beautiful underwear and a dress. Tricky to dress a totally passive body. It weighs so much. Only when I change her panties do I discover how wet she is.
I slap her bottom and feel proud of how still she remains. I understand the submission this requires, to stifle the body’s reactions. So I slap her again, this time harder. She squirms a little in pain, and I realise I need to calm down. Instead, I go to the kitchen and make some tea. I take a break and wonder if I should drag her into the bathroom to take a bath together. The thought of dragging her by her hair down the corridor tempts me, but I realise this is impossible. The evening turns into night as the game continues. It feels earnest and a bit solemn. Finally I crawl into bed next to her and whisper that she is her own again. It takes her a long time to regain her will, the impulse to do something, anything.
Later, I contemplated about why this was so exciting. Maybe because there was so much vulnerability. The complete opposite of being a reaction junkie. Here, there were no reactions at all. Only my will. Sometimes we breathed together, perhaps even subconsciously synchronising our inhales and exhales. Clinging to some small shred of security. A thin silver lining in the compact darkness. We had talked a bit about consent beforehand. It was extremely challenging to be completely passive where every movement would be interpreted as a no, that something is too much, too fast. Afterwards, everything feels so very close. So nice.
It took forever, but my book is finally available—either as a printed paperback or a downloadable PDF. Watch the trailer on the left!
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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.
Rituals and paradoxes is an adult-rated linear but non-chronological odyssey into my research of sadomasochism and esoteric eroticism up to today. To keep social media and its algorithms happy, you need to sign up to access it. If you prefer listening along, you can also find it on Spotify.
It’s also my five year long writing project, it was in large rewritten in 2023 together with my friend and editor Steve K from Tea and Touch, and the graphics are made by talented artist Inga Tsernova.
As I want this knowledge to spread, the written material is licensed under Creative Commons BY 4.0 that means that you, my dear reader, are welcomed to copy and make it your own. If you follow two rules.
Attribution means that you must give appropriate credit to me as the source, provide a link to the license, and indicate any changes that you made. It can be as simple as “I learnt this from Andy, check out this web-page for the original.”
Non-endorsement means that you don’t claim to be an official teacher or facilitator of some kind of “Andy style”. I’ve been asked to teach facilitation and trauma informed bodywork but I don’t.
However, all non-written material is copyrighted and may not be copied.
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