On Wellness and Exorcism: An Essay on What Makes a Session Valuable
It’s always a balancing act: the whole issue of sitting in a circle during workshops. It’s unbearably didactic when everyone takes turns, like chickens on a perch, laying an egg and having to say something (side note: and, interestingly, how often people end up talking about their own tiredness or alertness). On the other hand, it’s also wonderfully democratic when everyone is given space to speak and listen, without shyness or self-confidence (or overconfidence) determining who speaks. And then there is the admittedly always powerful symbolism of the circle, which in séances even causes tables to move as if by magic… And much like in these spiritualist circles, it seems that in workshop discussion circles, too, the greatest potential can be summoned through precise questions.
During our lastbondage massage workshop in Karlsruhea few weeksago, a question like this arose out of necessity—and was incredibly exciting for me personally. The spirits evoked in that discussion continue to haunt me, at least.
A brief background: The course explores how the mindful and artful use of ropes can enrich massage rituals and offers a repertoire of techniques, tips, inspiration, and suggestions for creating sophisticated and sensual interactions orsessions. The workshop lasted three days; we concluded the second and third evenings with one-and-a-half-hour sessions in which participants could try out what they had learned and brought with them in free play with a receiving partner. The appeal and challenge of these scenes lie in their improvisation. Unlike the guided exercises, here you are no longer led by the hand, but instead open yourself up to the spontaneous, unpredictable here and now—to yourself and the other person. Perhaps you enter with certain ideas and intentions, but you must surrender to the involuntary impulses of shared improvisation. Then magic can emerge—or you may lose your way. What, then, should one hold onto? The formulaic practices, patterns, and instructions? Simply throw in as many sensations as possible so the recipient doesn’t get bored—or to mask one’s own insecurity? Fall back on what has worked so far? Especially when interacting with someone you’ve known for a long time, behavioral routines that provide security come to mind. But what is a session really about? Why do we actually do this? In the end, it shouldn’t just be about getting through the 90 minutes—so to speak, the main thing is to get through it without a hitch and with plenty of highlights. And somehow, you do it to experience more or something different in the end than you would otherwise while enjoying yourself with some Netflix-and-chill fumbling.
On the third day, after a brief warm-up exercise, we began the day with this very question: What makes a good session for you as the recipient? What is important to you in that regard? What are you looking for when you want (or even book) a session? Thanks to the input discussed afterward, the scenarios in the second round felt much more well-rounded and substantial.
In addition to emphasizing honesty (what one truly wants—and doesn’t want—with this unique person in this unique moment), agreeing on signals to stop or change the scene, and trusting that one’s partner will clearly communicate when something is no longer right, I found the reminder that sessions are not about wellness particularly thought-provoking. Comfortable relaxation can be one aspect. However, the curious and courageous exploration of one’s own boundaries—or the confrontation with whatever is currently at hand, whatever one wishes to try out, or whatever needs an outlet—invites the realization that one does not always have to feel classically“happy”during the session. Because, to put it grandly, one wishes to experience something existential about being human. For example, moments of shame (which in everyday life usually carry only negative connotations) can manifest as processes in which an individual, in a state of nakedness and surrender, confronts themselves in intimate self-awareness, thereby becoming a stranger to themselves and yet reclaiming themselves on a deeper level. When sessions evoke ecstatic states, this intoxication generates certain forms of clairvoyance that offer the subject access to realms that are otherwise closed off—and the emerging emotions that are hospitably welcomed (such as shame or anger, for which there are otherwise hardly any adequate outlets without getting oneself into trouble) can serve as a gateway to these realms. This is not always easy or risk-free, but it can be enriching and, above all, extraordinarily pleasurable.
The reflections on the initial question also made it clear that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Yes, it feels good when someone strokes the back of my knee, kneads my tense shoulder, and wraps a rope around my wrist. But that’s not quite it—just a little stroking here and a little tying there. The terms “composition” and “dramaturgy” came up—so it’s about structured sequences. In a sense, during a session we tell a story that has a beginning and an end, with a narrative arc in between. How one event leads to the next is not arbitrary, but follows a specific logic—even if this logic operates below the level of reason and in non-linear, labyrinthine realms.
Writing workshops teach how to develop plot arcs as central themes and connecting threads that hold the story together, in order to sustain readers’ attention, anticipation, and interest across multiple pages. Like a fire that must be stoked slowly, the drama is gradually intensified, striving to preserve the unpredictability of the story’s unfolding, which remains plausible and logical in retrospect. Suspensearises from a sensitivity to delaying resolutions and incorporating surprises that emerge from the narrative’s own logic—rather than being arbitrarily inserted. This kindof storytellingtranslates wonderfully to bodywork sessions. However, to maintain the fine line between “non-arbitrary” and yet “unintentional”—so that the receiving person is not stubbornly and purposefully forced to accept something that has nothing to do with them and their needs—a key concept is “presence,” which most participants wished for from their partner during their sessions. In any case, as the recipient, I can tell whether I’m just getting a slap on the butt—not because the situation calls for it, but because my partner thinks it has something to do with kinkiness or simply wants to fulfill a very specific image instead of staying present with us.
Presence makes me feel that someone is there with me and genuinely interested in me and my desires, wanting to draw something out of me, exploring and investigating. When it was my turn in the circle of cushions to share what makes a successful session for me, the somewhat drastic term “exorcism” came to mind—a term that may not carry the same promising connotations for everyone as it does for me, yet captures certain aspects I recognize from great sessions: a ritualistic element that leads me into a state of heightened sensitivity, with the aim of excavating something (archeologically?) from within me—something that lies dormant and perhaps doesn’t dare to emerge in everyday life (or isn’t allowed to). That the giver must sometimes take a risk for this. That in the process, I might be startled by what is within me, or at least surprised by it, or simply allowed to shamelessly enjoy the forces within my body. Something invisible wants to be made visible. Wants to reveal itself. And the session holds a safe space in which I am allowed to do that and am accompanied in the process. Where it is not“too much,” not soothed away, not exploited, and not therapeutically interpreted or “healed” away.
Being seen and realizing that the other person—completely without judgment and with genuine kindness (even if it’s a bit awkward!)—truly enjoys seeing and recognizing this otherwise hidden part of me makes the situation downright hot. Because it creates a radical sense of closeness and intimacy. And because it generates endless spirals of resonance: it turns me on that you find it hot to see me; my heightened arousal triggered by this, in turn, turns you on more, which triggers something in me that triggers something intense in you,…
However, this seems possible only if, during the session, you’re willing to stick with something that proves to be the key to interesting reactions and further, deeper exploration—which, in turn, suggests that, as the leading partner, you shouldn’t cling obsessively to your own plan and ideas that are still waiting to be realized. “A lot” isn’t always “more,” and there’s nothing to be gained by shooting your whole load right away (although deliberately employing overkill might be worth a try). Even if there are then points of suspension and you really wanted to show off your newsuspension skills, you might just be distracting from something exciting that was unfolding inthe floorworkas you touched the leg bound inthe futomomo. So why not linger there a little longer? Instead of applying all sorts of binds, perhaps more—and with greater virtuosity—can be achieved simply by wrapping another layer of rope around that very leg that’s already tied up. And another, and another…
This brings us to the next factor—one that should not be underestimated—for a stimulating session: duration. You can probably only access those truly intense moments and states offlowif you take your time and let time work in your favor. This is perhaps comparable to a sequence in a film that consists of a single, long take, in which a special visual experience only unfolds within that duration: the image, so to speak, gains volume; the viewer can immerse themselves in the image and in their own delight in the experience of perception, because it is no longer about following the narrative and figuring out who the murderer is… In sessions, as the person providing support, I experience these moments when, after some time, like peeling an onion, layers of civilization have gradually been stripped away until I suddenly perceive somewhere in my counterpart’s expression a highly sensitive and receptive ‘core’ (though this is not meant to be essentializing, because the ‘core’ refers more to an openness) in which there is so much of what always has to do with mortality and birth, and which I can only describe very clumsily. Being allowed to observe such a vulnerable yet strong expression is comparable to a feeling that once moved my spirit during a trip to Israel after a long hike through the Negev Desert, when I suddenly arrived at a large crater and then, overwhelmed, humbled, and awestruck, with a feeling of light, pleasurable shuddering or “delightful horrors,” simplylooked into the crater and had to endure the fact that this crater is now there, in all its unassimilable and mind-boggling presence.
In interaction with a person during a session, a sense of stark responsibility and highly sensitive intimacy is added, one that feeds on the trust that all participants must have brought to the situation once it has reached the point where such a moment of the sublime arises.
Since we started sharing the circle, I’ve been approaching sessions differently. Because everything becomes more intense when I remind myself that, beyond the pure joy of creativity and inventiveness that the sessions demand, and their moments of fun with alternative forms of communication, it is above all those subtle insights and sublime spaces of wonder that constitute the decisive appeal of playing with others in the first place. Above all, however, the practices learned in the workshops are not an end in themselves or a means of self-optimization, but rather a means of intellectual curiosity and encountering the other in an empathetic sense.
