An esoteric guru, the kind who finds energetic bliss through meditation and mantras, once asked me about sadomasochism. He was interested in surrender and submission, and why bother focusing so much devotion and sacrifice to a humble human being when there is the divine, god, and oneness. From a sadomasochistic perspective, I heard him asking, why go looking for more pain and suffering when plenty already exists?

Sadomasochism was given its name by philosophers and poets like Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, Marquis de Sade and Sigmund Freud, who started to investigate the relationship between pain and eros. It’s confusing and fascinating as it breaks one fundamental dynamic of classic human behaviour: seeking pleasure and avoiding discomfort. However we can see several examples of this in our culture when people choose to sacrifice ease in order to gain something worthy of the pain. It’s also evident in our religions as but one example, Jesus’ death on the cross, and in our bodies when we for example experience a runner’s high after pushing ourselves painfully hard. Evolution made the human body and mind experts at endurance. This gives meaning to our short time on earth.

When I think about sadomasochism, I think about a controlled exercise of discomfort—starting in the physical pain but soon bridging over into the emotional and spiritual. It is controlled because it is meaningful, ritualised, and intended. I think sadism is far from rage because rage is spontaneous, unpredictable, and overwhelming. I don’t believe that sadomasochism is either good or bad by default, but it has to be controlled. Mechanisms like consent, empathy, and consciousness make it more ‘good’, while manipulation, malice, and ignorance make it more ‘bad’. This may be stating the obvious, but I obviously only advocate ‘good’ sadomasochism.

The Sadomasochistic Agreement

I often think about a cat catching a mouse when I think about sadism. It isn’t an act of blind rage but something meaningful that shows the cat in all its grace. Once the hunt is over, a ritualised game begins. The mouse is toyed with, almost allowed to escape, only to be recaptured and proudly put on display. It is a controlled act of pain and humiliation. But does it make the cat evil? There is definitely no consent, empathy, or consciousness shared between the hunter and prey. One could argue that a more profound, almost existential agreement exists between the cat and the mouse in the ecosystem. 

On a more human level, what is the difference between a sadistic dominant and an abusive psychopath? Two of my favourite books are Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence—From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror (2015) by Judith Herman and The Forked Tongue: A handbook for treating people badly (2015) by the pseudonym Flagg. One is about abusive relationships and post-traumatic stress, and the other is about emotional sadism and power. And they describe precisely the same human behaviour. Yet one book describes it as loving and consensual, and the other as abusive and destructive. To understand how the same actions can be both good and bad depending on circumstances, I think one must investigate the sadomasochistic relationship. 

There is a shared understanding in the sadomasochistic relationship. On how far things will go. This is true both for the conscious and consensual as well as the abusive and destructive versions. There is an emotional reason why someone stays with a wife-beater, like Stockholm syndrome, addiction, dependency, etc. Known suffering is preferred to the unknown. Once one becomes self-aware and understands that there is suffering and, ultimately, death, then trying to control that is the logical thing to do. The other path is to ignore it, leading to nihilism and hedonism. The sadomasochistic agreement can be conscious, subconscious, or experimental and is ever-changing. Some people in the sadomasochistic subculture define their agreement in laminated slave contracts and hang them on the wall. In contrast, most vanilla people have an unspoken way of navigating these waters, like drinking two bottles of wine on a Friday night and having frenetic sex once the kids are asleep.

Suffering For Something Known

Why does this relationship exist at all? Why are people sadistic and masochistic? Fundamentally, I think, it comes back to control. Exposing oneself to controlled suffering helps to avoid the unpredictable and overwhelming. In a way, it’s similar to anxiety, that being anxious about something helps avoid experiencing it for real. Many find sadomasochism to be a stress release, maybe because the entire being supports masochism, from spiritual beliefs and relational patterns to hormonal releases and meaning-making—the controlled suffering.

Sometimes people in the sadomasochistic subculture, especially when using the abbreviation BDSM, proclaim that consent is the difference between BDSM and abuse. I also argue the same thing from time to time. But here in this chapter, I use the word sadomasochism for both the good/loving and the bad/abusive because there are many similarities. Later in this book I’ll ask if consent is enough to judge good from bad?

I also think sadism and masochism are ultimately two sides of the same coin because the focus is on pain-and by extension, on the experience of the person in the controlled suffering. So they are the hero of the sadomasochistic story. In comparison, meaningless suffering is not masochistic but only self-destructive. Most ‘good’ sadistic people, in my experience, are very emphatic because they want to feel with the masochist; otherwise, it’s not meant for them. So sadism is masochism moved outside the self. Creating the two separate roles that stand in polarity allows both to go deeper and form a more profound bond. Sometimes, I joke that most people get more sadistic and less masochistic as they get older because they get lazier. The out-sourcing of suffering is quite common in our culture. For example, we delight in watching people compete on survival treks across the Siberian tundra on TV.

Now back to the guru’s question, why explore sadomasochism at all?

I think the answer is two-folded. First, that sadomasochism generates intensity, so it makes us feel alive. If that is perceived as positive, it’s pleasing, just like the relationship between nervousness and excitement. The bodily reaction is the same: raised heartbeat, butterflies in the belly etc. If life feels dull, why not spice it up with some sadomasochism. Also, when sexually aroused or in a state of surrender, many confuse pain and pleasure, and it all gets transformed into intensity. 

Secondly, learning to be at one with hardship makes one more resilient. Pain and suffering can be endured when it feels meaningful. In ourselves, when masochistic, and in others, when sadistic. But when we are pushed outside our window of tolerance and lose control, either by panic (fight or flight) or dissociation (freeze) or adaptation (fawn) and then we can no longer tap into our masochistic self. 

Unless people understand well how sadomasochistic relationships work, I see a few potential dangers. There’s a real risk for individuals with a masochistic inclination to remain in a harmful relationship longer than those without such tendencies. Similarly, individuals with a sadistic inclination may push the boundaries beyond what is acceptable. Determining whether the relationship is destructive or meaningful, loving or abusive, can be challenging. Nonetheless, if the connection between the sadist and masochist is severed, the relationship will likely come to an end, for better or worse.

It is important to evaluate one’s practice of sadomasochism, as it cannot be inherently labelled as good or bad. To simplify the evaluation process, three levels can be defined: conscious and curious, embracing a lifestyle, and pathological. The first is the happy-go-lucky stuff in beginners’ retreats and the people who use kink to spice up their otherwise ordinary sex life. The second level centres on sadomasochism as a significant and sometimes overpowering aspect of one’s sexuality, as reflected in the glamorous and illustrious leather lifestyle. In contrast, the third results in pathological and abusive relationships. Unconsciously attracting suffering is often related to trauma. All three levels activate erotic desires and are characterised by intensity and excitement, making the evaluation process challenging.

Ultimately, the simple answer to the guru’s question might be that sadomasochism is learning that sacrifice and suffering are inevitable so we can truly live life meaningfully. Therefore practising surrender within a sadomasochistic play may prepare us to meet God. Or so I told the esoteric guru.

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Standard Edition. Paperback. 499 pages.


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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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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.