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 you stop taking things for granted. Like when I took part 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 giving massages. And then, on the first evening of our retreat, we learned in Eva Hanson’s lecture that those massages were actually never part of tantric philosophy or spiritual practice.
They are basically the brainchild of some white guys 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 very own inventions of gestures and rituals involving 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 provides insights into the cultural history and the geopolitical-imperialist 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 deeply invested in self-centered 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 that? After letting go of the illusion? Or, as Eva asks us, pointing to the first sentence of our retreat description (“It’s time to declutter tantric massages”): “What’s left after the decluttering? What 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 in which we facilitators began doing things differently because we were simply frustrated and fed up—with the workshops we attended, for example, where there was an imbalance between male and female participants, so the facilitators invited more women to attend at a lower price, essentially to serve as resources for the men.
By holding this retreat, we do not wish to come across as gurus with set, definitive answers. But anyone who wishes to embark on a process of inquiry, experimentation, and deconstruction is welcome. Once this collective effort at deconstruction began, however, we realized just how vast the project actually is that we’re trying to hold space for. It’s more than just 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 issues 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 want to spare others the experiences we had when we went far beyond our boundaries, simply because we had no alternative to starting a massage with eye contact 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 highly concentrated cocktail of estrogens 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 constant diet, the beauty imperative, kleptomania, compassion, cooking, the desperate sensuality of Marilyn Monroe, the manicure, not making any noise when you walk, not making any noise when you eat, not making any 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 understated 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,” who 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 movies, porn, gambling, bets, the government, the state, corporations, cold cuts, hunting and fishing, boots, ties, a three-day stubble, alcohol, heart attacks, balding, the Grand Prix, a trip to the Moon, getting plastered, 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 doesn't serve us, crafting our own approaches, and staying with paradoxes and difficulties.
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 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 could humor and satire actually get in the way of delving deeper and recognizing just 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 is just as likely to produce anxiety: risking transgression, flirting with displeasure, or simply confusing things in a way that both intensifies and impedes the pleasure. Comedy has issues.” ³ So is it making a mockery of things 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 chaos—Matís demonstrating how, back then, he used to start massages by holding the other person’s hands, letting them lean backward 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—ones that are both fun and challenging, and perhaps even 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 become increasingly true to their own interests, needs, and experiences, without needing our permission or sticking to a plan just for the sake of the plan. Education as a practice that ultimately aims to dissolve itself—and the educator—while the person who has been educated becomes independent. Or even a better teacher. Recognizing that what is alive in this unique moment is more important than following a formula for some kind of “Workshop 101.” This means that sometimes the uncomfortable stuff is more important and powerful than the fun, feel-good stuff. To get there, we 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 no one 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’ll change and fit more comfortably into a certain mold. How people-pleasing happens and how it might feel nice at first, but then you realize the underlying causes and the cost it entails—like disrespecting boundaries. And boundaries aren’t always pleasant. How there are dependencies and projections of parental figures onto facilitators who can—and should—never live up to those expectations. How can we cooperate instead? And in what ways can we be there 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, out of the blue, some participants create a beautiful ritual to honor the catress (not goddess) of squirting between workshop sessions, gracefully guiding the chosen ones into the swimming pool decorated with flowers, letting the liminal beings float, and then screaming in unison with the peacocks surrounding us…
Maybe trying to declutter Tantric massage actually led to more clutter. If our workshop wasn’t one thing, it certainly wasn’t minimalistic. Looking back, it felt more like a kaleidoscope in which a new pattern emerges with every turn. New clutter. We have to admit: our relationship to clutter is ambivalent. We aren’t refined enough to offer you a clutter-free 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 at our best, we can offer something else—hopefully something like a “distinctive blend of excess and precision.” ⁴ Those words come from a review describing the work of author Dodie Bellamy, and somehow, to me, this review serves as a role model I look up to—and I hope our workshops could be described in this way, too:
“Rather than simply rejecting or mocking 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, with 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’m leading 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 lifeless 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 in between. It’s comforting, even grounding, to be seen 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.
