Salt with a Dash of Tantra
“It’s like opening Pandora’s box”—that’s how one participant described her experience at our retreat TANTRA WITH A PINCH OF SALT. The things that come to the surface once one refuses to take things for granted. Like when I participated in my first Tantra workshops, I just took for granted what the teachers told me… For example, that we were engaging in authentic tantric practices by doing massages. And then, on the first evening of our retreat, we learned in Eva Hanson’s lecture that those massages were actually never a part of tantric philosophy and spiritual practice.
They are basically the brainchild of some white men in the 1970s who were riding the hippie-New Age wave like so many of their peers. And while some of them actually studied Sanskrit texts, what I took for granted as something traditional was just a fusion of those Westerners’ approaches: their fascination with sexuality, the “Orient,” and their own inventions of gestures and rituals surrounding touch. We also learn that many Tantra massage institutes actually struggle with the word “Tantra” since it has nothing to do with actual Tantra. But calling it “erotic massage” or “sensual massage” (in our discussion group we even came up with “occult massage”) evokes different associations. And many massage institutes wish to distance themselves from the stricter prostitution laws. So the word Tantra gives them an air of something else. Something healing. Something therapeutic. Something to be respected. The lecture gives us some insights into the cultural history and the geopolitical-imperialistic backgrounds of Tantra massage by also explaining how it is tied to the invention of psychoanalysis and, with that, the invention of a new subjectivity that is quite invested in navel-gazing self-development. After the lecture, one participant rightly points out that all of this feels quite disappointing. She thought she would learn something substantial. And now it’s all a farce. “Tantra – The Path to Disappointment,” we jokingly rename our retreat. The German word for disappointment—Enttäuschung—actually holds a comforting promise. Ent_Täuschung basically means that an illusion or deception is undone. What happens after this? After no longer clinging to the illusion? Or, as Eva asks us, pointing to the first sentence of our retreat description (“It’s time to declutter tantric massages”): “What is left after the decluttering? If the whole thing is actually built on the clutter?” A good question. Our retreat isn’t built on answers. It’s more of an invitation to a work in progress where we facilitators started doing things differently because we were simply frustrated and fed up—with the workshops we attended, where there was an imbalance between male and female participants, for example, so the facilitators invited more women to come at a lower price, basically to serve as resources for the men.
Through this retreat, we do not wish to come across as gurus with definitive new answers. But anyone who wishes to embark on a process of inquiry, experimentation, and deconstruction is welcome. Once this collective attempt at deconstruction began, however, we realized just how vast the project actually is that we are trying to hold space for. It is more than simply letting go of the trappings of Tantra massage—like wearing lunghis with elephant prints, burning patchouli incense sticks, or smelling like Monoi de Tahiti. More themes need to be addressed. Can we talk about sex work and how doing this for money influences the “ritual” we learned in tantra retreats designed for couples? Can we talk about unique approaches, creativity, and freedom, because we wish to spare others the experiences we had when we went way beyond our boundaries—since we had no alternative to starting a massage with eye gazing or letting someone sit on our lap in a so-called lotus position? Can we talk about gender politics? That not every man has a “lingam” and every woman a “yoni,” and that whatever they have, they might wish to name and approach it differently? And while most Tantra workshops claim that both men and women embody masculine and feminine energy, they rely on stereotypical distinctions: masculine as the active, logical, goal-oriented aspect, and feminine as the passive, intuitive, nurturing one. Following queer theorist Paul B. Preciado, it might also be possible to approach Tantra massage as embodying and balancing both the “semiotechnical codes of white heterosexual femininity belonging to the postwar pharmacopornographic political ecology” and the “semiotechnical codes of white heterosexual masculinity belonging to the postwar pharmacopornographic political ecology” within oneself. And that would mean aligning the inner “Shakti,” which could then serve as the archetype for
“Little Women, a mother’s courage, the Pill, the potent cocktail of estrogen and progesterone, the honor of virgins, Sleeping Beauty, bulimia, the desire for a child, the shame of losing one’s virginity, The Little Mermaid, silence in the face of rape, Cinderella, the ultimate immorality of abortion, cakes and cookies, knowing how to give a good blowjob, bromazepam, the shame of not having done it yet, Gone with the Wind, saying no when you want to say yes, not leaving home, having small hands, Audrey Hepburn’s ballet shoes, codeine, taking care of your hair, fashion, saying yes when you want to say no, anorexia, secretly knowing that the person you’re really attracted to is your best friend, fear of growing old, the need to be on a diet constantly, the beauty imperative, kleptomania, compassion, cooking, the desperate sensuality of Marilyn Monroe, the manicure, making no noise when you walk, making no noise when you eat, making no noise, the immaculate and carcinogenic cotton of Tampax, the certainty that motherhood is a natural bond, not knowing how to cry, not knowing how to fight, not knowing how to kill, not knowing much or knowing a lot but not being able to say it, knowing how to wait, the subdued elegance of Lady Di, Prozac, fear of being a bitch in heat, Valium, the necessity of the G-string, knowing how to restrain yourself, letting yourself be fucked in the ass when it’s necessary, being resigned, precise pubic waxing, depression, thirst, little lavender balls that smell good, the smile, the living mummification of the smooth face of youth, love before sex, breast cancer, being a kept woman, being left by your husband for a younger woman …” ¹
- to align this with your inner modern urban Western “Shiva,” which would then serve as an archetype for:
“James Bond, soccer, wearing pants, knowing how to raise your voice, *Platoon*, knowing how to kill, knowing how to smash someone’s face, mass media, stomach ulcers, the precariousness of paternity as a natural bond, overalls, sweat, war (including the television version), Bruce Willis, Operation Desert Storm, speed, terrorism, sex for sex’s sake, getting hard like Ron Jeremy, knowing how to drink, earning money, Rocky, Prilosec, the city, bars, hookers, boxing, the garage, the shame of not getting hard like Ron Jeremy, Viagra, prostate cancer, broken noses, philosophy, gastronomy, Scarface, having dirty hands, Bruce Lee, paying alimony to your ex-wife, domestic violence, horror films, porn, gambling, bets, the government, the state, the corporation, cold cuts, hunting and fishing, boots, the tie, three-day stubble, alcohol, heart attacks, balding, the Grand Prix, a trip to the Moon, getting wasted, hanging yourself, big watches, calloused hands, keeping your anus clenched shut, camaraderie, bursts of laughter, intelligence, encyclopedic knowledge, sexual obsessions, Don Juanism, misogyny, being a skinhead, serial killers, heavy metal, leaving your wife for a younger woman, fear of getting fucked in the ass, not seeing your children after the divorce, the desire to get fucked in the ass …” ²
That was one idea for workshop exercises in which we engage with the full, honest complexity of gender and archetypes, letting go of what no longer serves us, crafting our own approaches, and embracing paradoxes and challenges.
Furthermore, the Pandora’s box of Tantra massage has more to offer. Can we talk about bodies with disabilities? Can we talk about abuse in spiritual communities and how to grieve it—and how to hold people accountable, whether through the power of the law or through restorative justice? What about toxic spirituality? And could satire, parody, humor, comedy, and laughter (an approach typical of luhmen d’arc) serve to breathe fresh air into those overly serious approaches, or could they even be tools to immunize people so they aren’t so easily deceived by narcissistic, manipulative leaders? Or if humor and satire actually get in the way of delving deeper and seeing how important and serious bodywork and spirituality can be? Oversalting the actually warm, nourishing soup of sublime oneness... As cultural theorists Lauren Berlant and Sianne Ngai describe it: “Comedy’s pleasure comes in part from its ability to dispel anxiety, [...] but it doesn’t simply do that [...], its action just as likely produces anxiety: risking transgression, flirting with displeasure, or just confusing things in a way that both intensifies and impedes the pleasure. Comedy has issues.” ³ So is it taking a piss when we need to laugh during a demonstration because there is always not only something transgressive but also something aggressive in laughter? (S)laughter… What needs to be slaughtered in Tantra massages?
And on top of all that, we still want to teach techniques! We show how to move a body gracefully and how to touch someone by trusting your intuition. We present the typical mess—Matís demonstrating how, back then, he would start massages by holding the other person’s hands, letting them lean back and breathe heavily, then suddenly clasping his hands over their head to somehow “hypnotize” them or something and weaving an invisible thread from their head to their toes… and me not being able to stop laughing as his demonstration guinea pig because it’s just so very creepy!
And we want to create group experiences… that are both fun and challenging… and perhaps therapeutic at times… The process of pairing people into duos or trios for the exercises… And we want to make ourselves nonessential. At least that is one ethical pillar for us as facilitators: to enable and empower the group to self-regulate and be true to their own interests, needs, and experiences more and more, without needing our permission or without sticking to a plan for the sake of the plan. Education as a practice that aims to dissolve itself—and the educator—after all, while the person who has been educated becomes independent. Or even a better teacher. Knowing that what is alive in this unique moment is more important than a recipe for some kind of “Workshop 101.” Which means that sometimes the uncomfortable stuff is more important and potent than the fun wellness stuff. To get there, this approach must not shy away from vulnerability and transparency when necessary: in order to understand the current group dynamics, and the relationships between peers as well as between facilitators and participants. In order to address certain patterns, projections, unclear expectations that nobody agreed to, and unresolved issues that lead to unnecessary overthinking. It’s a bit like in a relationship when you go to couples therapy and become more aware of how one person tries to micromanage the other so they will change and fit more comfortably into a certain mold. How people-pleasing happens and how this might feel nice at first, but then one realizes the causes behind it and the price it exacts—like disrespecting boundaries. And boundaries aren’t nice. How there are dependencies and projections of parental figures onto facilitators who can—and should—never live up to them. How can we cooperate instead? And in what ways can we show up for each other and ourselves then? (But this topic of the ambivalent role of facilitation should be discussed further in another blog post...)
And all of that is a lot. Especially in a diverse group where what is heaven for one person is hell for another. But it also holds the potential for magic. When suddenly some participants create a beautiful ritual honoring the mistress (not goddess) of squirting between workshop sessions, gracefully guiding the chosen ones into the flower-adorned swimming pool, letting the liminal beings float and then scream in unison with the peacocks surrounding us…
Perhaps trying to declutter our tantric massage retreat actually led to even more clutter. If our workshop wasn’t one thing, it certainly wasn’t minimalist. Looking back, it felt more like a kaleidoscope in which a new pattern emerges with every turn. New clutter. We must admit: our relationship to clutter is ambivalent. We aren’t refined enough to offer you a decluttered tantra massage retreat after all, because we’re too messy for that, too in love with excess, too flawed, and not ascetic enough ourselves. When we’re in good shape, we can offer something else—hopefully something like a “distinctive blend of excess and precision.” ⁴ Those words are from a review describing the work of author Dodie Bellamy, and somehow this review serves as a role model I look up to; I hope our workshops could be described in this way, too:
“Rather than simply dismissing or ridiculing cult beliefs, however, Bellamy tenderly explores this longing for meaning and community, asking, ‘Dare I reclaim what is considered vulgar in spirituality?’ Reclaiming vulgarity has always been at the core of Bellamy’s project: reclaiming the vulgarity of the body, in all its discomforts and desires, and reclaiming the vulgarity of unregulated emotions—needy desire, obsessive fixation, corrosive heartbreak”
And I think: “Yes! Exactly! That’s what I want when I run those workshops!” And finally, upon rereading the review, I also come across an approach to clutter that fascinates me. The reviewer describes how Bellamy’s “writing feels more intimate and tender in its cultivated messiness, as if we were accompanying Bellamy through the untamed landscape of emotion in all its lush wilderness.” Cultivated messiness! Yes! And then it pays tribute to how Bellamy describes relationships, and I bow deeply: “How bloodless and transactional it would be to have friendships or marriages in which we offered one another only our best lines, rather than all the fumbling between them. It’s consoling, even consolidating, to be witnessed in our uncertainty, our banality, our clutter.”
Namaste.
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¹ Paul B. Preciado: *Testo Junkie: Sex, Drugs, and Biopolitics in the Pharmacopornographic Era*, The Feminist Press at CUNY, 2013 [2008], p. 120 ff.
² Ibid., p. 121.
³ Lauren Berlant and Sianne Ngai: “Comedy Has Issues.” In: Critical Inquiry, Vol. 43, No. 2, The University of Chicago, 2017, “Comedy, an Issue.”
⁴ Leslie Jamison: “A Fearless Experimentalist’s Stealth Reputation.” Revered among the better-known writers of the New Narrative, Dodie Bellamy has made uncompromising excess her artistic credo. In: The New Yorker, Books, November 8, 2021.
