27 May Memory, meaning & movement
There was a couple of years ago since we tied last time. It was in London and there was a misunderstanding, of us both not hearing each other, so we had to have a talk. It was an experience which proved we could talk through something difficult, and then we tied again and it was good. That was many years ago, and even though our paths have crossed since, there is always that thing about not having enough time to do rope together. Not having enough energy to tie again. ’Yeah, we will find time later’ ’Yes love, it would be great to do rope, try tonight?’ ’Aw full schedule can’t plan anything more’ ’It’s ok, it will happen’ is usually how that dialogue goes. I suspect it is a conversation many people can relate to…
Bondage Expo Dallas was fantastic. I pushed myself to be in as much rope as possible, to take every chance to learn more about how I function in rope. To accept where I could go and trust my body more. So what is this body? What can it do? Who does it belong to? I’ve asked myself that so many times, struggled and fought, against windmills, against expectations, against myself and my own mind. Against the thought of it being first and foremost ok as it is. Of being OK.
Rope has made me find my way back to my actual flesh, but it has also contained multitudes of troublesome times. Cutting out the images and expectations of a certain body type is hard work. A longer text on this is forthcoming, but as of now, I want to think about what we felt on the last evening of BED.
My everything was sore. We were in a space for tying and I had just landed efter the most delicious with a lot of pain. I still checked if he wanted to tie because this was probably going to be the only time we would find before that bloody continent thing made it impossible to crack rude jokes face to face again. So I walked up to him and asked if he wanted to go Yukimura on my ass. Because thats how we roll. Crude and rude. As we sat down, it felt different from that other time in London, many years ago. I think we were still a bit tired after a long weekend, but it was the kind that made us relaxed instead of tensed up. There was a slow embrace, a rope being uncoiled. A door opening, two mutual friends of ours walking through the doors being completely shitfaced. We sat and smiled at each other and just keep on going. We are grounded, our bodies firmly planted into the ground. Nothing wavy, nothing flimsy. Even the ropes feel firmer, closing up around the skin. My wrists tied infront of me, tied to the hard point. I sink into this and then he release the ropes around my wrists, takes my hands, diverts them to behind my back, accompanied by my usual fear. The usual worry. Me and my shoulders and the gote position. Being a problem. It is a good day today though, after so much pain and so much movement, and so much rope, the shoulder is not as tired as it could be. I have hardly been in any gote shibari up to this point, which means my boundaries have been respected and now that means that I have something left to play with. Somehow there is less resistance, only a slight ache in the left shoulder. It feels doable and my concern is turned off again, and instead we both turn into light again, where movement becomes easier as I’m folded down onto the floor, with a line on the gote planting some stability into my upperbody. That is the movement I love, the grounded but light, light as a feather but never flimsy. Never wavy. Circles, always circles. As he allows the ankle rope to dig into my skin for a moment, I suddenly realise what this is.
It was everything we could not reach a couple of years ago. A way of tying that was not accessible to my body, and a way of tying that we could not do because of the myriad of reasons. Then, these movements and this way of tying was not something that was accessible. We know more now, sense more and now we can access this. He lifts my leg through my ankle, a smooth movement again. Then I realise a second thing; all of this that we are doing, is thanks to someone who he learned from that had just passed away. All of these small things that he had studied was not techniques but was about how to be close and to move. A movement and a way of tying which was developed by someone who was not interested in the flashy suspensions. A movement and a way of tying that was adapted to the bodies involved, both for the person who is being tied as well as for the person who is tying. The result is seeing bodies being carved out by the rope, revealing layer after layer of desire.
And here we were, so many 1000s of kilometers away from the man who taught him, tying in this manner. I can’t lay claim of too much knowledge or having even studied with Yukimura, but what I can do, is say how much I appreciate that which he shared with rope lovers who I adore for their passion of rope. I can express gratitude but really not to mourn in the way in which those close to him mourns. That reminder though, being in his ropes, knowing where principles of this tying came from, felt like an appropriate way of giving thanks. So in that embrace on the floor, I feel a sadness and a gratitude. Also a sense of guilt, having invoked the memory of someone who just passed away.
Tying can be an appropriate way of reaching a mutual point of interaction that can be so simple. So difficult. We can tie for each other. Fill the ropes with our shared and individual meaning; joy, fear, sadness, mourning, celebration, intimacy, shame and objectification. In one scene with ropes, around one body, there are so many multiple meanings present that the only way we can understand and listen is to listen so very closely to each other. Trying to understand the buttons we press, the ropes we caress with.
Thank you, for sharing that time late in the evening amongst other . For giving space and listening. For letting me see your sorrow the way you created and saw others pain in ropes and for honoring someone whom I know meant a lot to you.