Every way we move in our lives has a purpose. Every movement of our soul has an internal engine that propels and nourishes it.

It has been a while since we talked about what drives us to practice ropes at KinbakuMania Shibari Dojo, and the different inner drives that can motivate others in their journeys, and how we feel about them.

Personally, I feel that the frantic race to learn how to suspend someone with Shibari as quickly as possible can, in the long run, leaves a feeling of emptiness. When you realize and perceive the infinite posibilities behind a rope session, acrobatic feats and ties for a simple photo may fade into the background and become a thing of the past.

But how does one reach that inner awareness where you seek something beyond the simple bondage, where you can look beyond the texture of the rope, how it looks, or what the knot is called, and see the bigger picture? The process requires the development and maturation of the rigger’s consciousness.

As a person grows in the art of ropes, their initial steps are closely tied to the rope itself, the ways they create structures, how to achieve what they saw in a photo or a video. They try to remember knots, loops, and all kinds of names and stories.

Suddently their almost immediate goal turns to suspend somebody as soon as possible. And of course do it in the most spectacular way. Then they compare themselves to others, and everything turns into a competition of skills, originality, beauty, and production that is fostered and fed more and more rapidly on social media. The focus of the importance in the practice is rarely perceived as “the experience of the person being tied”  but rather as a canned product with the name of Shibari, which has become trendy lately. In that world, there are only two feats, those of the rigger and those of the model, experienced separately, culminating in a photo, a short video, or a simple exhibitionist show, far from feeling like a conscious communion experience from both rigger and model.

With a given time, as a person evolves in their path as a rope artist, their interests go beyond measuring themselves by the quantity and spectacularity of the figures they can achieve. Their shibari becomes something more complex and profound. Their interests are no longer motivated by the ability to repeat certain ties. On the other hand, the one being tied also begins to feel that time and endurance is not indifferent to them and starts to seek something beyond their physical skill.

The deeper and more artistic path of shibari begins when the rigger’s eyes stop seeing the knot, the structure, and they no longer need to repeat an established guide to achieve their purpose. They may continue using certain structures, like someone using a particular tool, or someone choosing a path for their meditation, but their vision will be centered on the proposal as a whole, and their ultimate goal will no longer be, for example, “to suspend the model upside down,” but to take them on a path of sensations and a rope experience that flows according to the moment and, if successful, allows to show the expectators something of their inner souls and shine.

I’ve always felt that shibari has a great resemblance to dance. Whether one dances alone or with a partner, what matters is not only where one places their feet or whether they do it following the rhythm or not. What really matters is what you can transmit to the person dancing with you and, eventually, be beautiful to the eyes of those who observe the situation. Similarly, in that magical ritual of two people, ropes can allow us to fly and travel in our sensations in a back-and-forth that proposes thousands of different, unique, and unrepeatable experiences each time.

That’s why when someone asks me about learning Shibari Kinbaku, I always inquire and care to know what drives them to ropes, what they wish to achieve. When that person only sees in those first steps that it’s all related to the learning of knots and loops that the rope makes on the model’s body, the names of the structures, and asks me how long it will take to learn it all, I just share a bit about all of this.  I try to focus my teaching path with the same patience my teachers had with me at some point in the beggining. Perhaps, at another time, when that person’s shibari evolves, destiny may want I’ll be the one to accompany them in their growth as well.

The path of ropes, as it becomes deeper and more profound for both riggers and models, allows for working on aspects of their personality. Among the many situations that can arise are anxieties, shyness, fears, frustrations, lack of perception of one’s own limitations, attention deficits, lack of awareness of time, space, and tension, lack of empathy, among others. Personally I believe that nothing happens by chance. I feel that these same aspects are, by reflection and syncretism, present themselves to me as an opportunity to work on my own personality. That’s why I appreciate every occasion when my students allow me the opportunity to help them and help myself improve.

Perhaps that’s why my way of teaching shibari kinbaku is different from many others. Perhaps that’s why some may understand it, and others follow different paths, which are also absolutely valid.