Swirl<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.laquartacorda.it\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/3\/2020\/05\/miss-swirl-tagliata-600x338.jpg\")
This is the kind of post that will knock my mom\u2019s eyes out. Probably she will come to the door to tell me that it\u2019s not good to write about these things.<\/p>\n
She\u2019s right.
\nBut I\u2019m sorry mom, this morning I got tied up, even if it\u2019s not good.<\/p>\n
People know I don\u2019t mince words, so I can add it was incredible. It was like the stinging feeling when you dip a toe in the boiling water in the tub. It was like that time of uncertainty before indulging in the hot embrace of the heat and the water, like the feelings of your body, your heart, your thoughts, your breath slowing down until almost you disappear.
\nYou close your eyes since you want to doze off with your head leaning on the edge of the tub, with his shoulders, his rope, his breath in the silence and the music fading off.<\/p>\n
Let\u2019s start by when the master told me to play with ropes together and I answered: \u201cWillingly\u201d.
\nIt\u2019s normal, isn\u2019t it, that the local rope master sends you a message because he saw you in some photos, saw you in a class and he understood your potential in being his \u201ctest animal\u201d.
\nWait, no. \u201cTest animal\u201d isn\u2019t the right word. He tries his art on me, but I\u2019m active too, it\u2019s an exchange, a duet, and my whole being, my existence, are there to go along with him in the dance of the ropes.<\/p>\n
Yes, \u201ctest animal\u201d isn\u2019t the right word.<\/p>\n
Help me please: how can I define who allows being tied all over the body putting them life in someone else\u2019s hands just on trust?<\/p>\n
Irresponsible? Fool? Brave?
\nMaybe.<\/p>\n
I think the right term is \u201cconjoined\u201d.
\nLike twins.<\/p>\n
Kinbaku means \u201ctight binding\u201d.
\nIf you try to google this word, the first shoots you find are some wonderful rope trees with a stoned heart and a suspended girl in the centre.<\/p>\n
I haven\u2019t called it \u201cart\u201d at random. The body is the first artistic representation of beauty in nature.
\nWe are fascinated by the power of the body when we watch it with an enchanted and suspended gaze.<\/p>\n
The room was cold, but it was bearable.
\nHe asked me to sit on the knee, with my back on him.
\nHe caressed the skin of the arms, not with his fingers, but with his whole hand, as he should console me.
\nMy feed touched his legs. Yes, we were so close.<\/p>\n
He took my hands and brought them behind the back, grabbing them with one hand while with the other he controlled my shoulder, checking there weren\u2019t involuntary tensions in the arc of my arms.
\nThere weren\u2019t.<\/p>\n
Then he did what made me filling \u201cconjoined\u201d.
\nI\u2019ve never seen the master alone, I\u2019ve been never tied up by him alone and he, hold on me, simply put his forehead between my blades.
\nA door opened in front of my chest, a light entered inside me, I felt in total harmony with him, as we were the one the projection, the extension, the link of the other.<\/p>\n
I felt some mixed emotions I had to rattle off later.<\/p>\n
First, undoubtedly, motherhood. It was a gesture of tenderness that got a smile from me, relaxed me and appeased my whole body.<\/p>\n
Second, trust. In the silence this gesture told me:
\n\u201cHey, I\u2019m here, I will abandon myself to you if you let yourself abandon to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Third, humility.
\n\u201cI\u2019ll be the strength that supports and hurts you at the same time, but you have to know I\u2019m here for you.\u201d
\nIsn\u2019t that a comparison with love?<\/p>\n
Ropes are tight. Really.
\nYou are at the mercy of every push, every breath of wind.
\nRopes fly quickly when he creates the tie, they slow down marking your body, biting your skin with marks, blushes, decolletages.
\nRopes grasp your breasts, your hips, they carve in the most erotic points until the neck, like a snake.<\/p>\n
I was there, lightly suspended, with my body laying to the gravity, my soring wrists, my head leaning on the suspension line, and his hand, his rope twirling on my neck, one, two, three, four times.<\/p>\n
My pulses were slowed down. My mind was an empty box.
\nAt that moment, with my neck in a vise, a thought occurred to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cOk, I\u2019m dead. I embedded in this story and now I\u2019m dead. It\u2019s the natural selection! I should have thought about it before. I\u2019m dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sometimes he laid a finger in my hand and I squeezed it as a baby does. I smiled.
\nWe squeezed our hands, we watched in our eyes. He embraced and caressed me.<\/p>\n
No, I\u2019m not dead. I could breathe, but I would\u2019t. Like in the tub when you are plunged in the boiling water between life and death until you reawoke and the world is still looking at you.<\/p>\n
Does it hurt?
\nYes.
\nWould I do it again?
\nAlways.<\/p>\n
What did I win being tied?<\/p>\n
You must have a healthy relationship with your body, you must feel at ease because you put yourself in the hands of another person.<\/p>\n
With my condition in adolescence I had trouble because I could NEVER let go. NEVER.
\nTo lose control meant to expose me and to show my weak points.
\nNo one could come near my head. How many times I stayed someone\u2019s hands, how many times I ran away, how many times I\u2019ve closed myself off to something amazing for fear of exposing myself.<\/p>\n
This is no longer the case. My weak points are now my strong points.
\nBut not always. Sometimes I still stay on the edge of the ravine and I don\u2019t have a go, because I don\u2019t have the stregth to jump.
\nSometimes I sit and gaze the infinity, waiting for the sunset to devour the landscape and to take it away forever.<\/p>\n
Not today. Today I took a running leap and\u2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I knew Swirl during a workshop. After a little online conversation, we met at my…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3979,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[24,25],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2142","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-nawame","category-vlogs-and-posts"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.laquartacorda.it\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2142","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.laquartacorda.it\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.laquartacorda.it\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.laquartacorda.it\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.laquartacorda.it\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2142"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/www.laquartacorda.it\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2142\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2154,"href":"https:\/\/www.laquartacorda.it\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2142\/revisions\/2154"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.laquartacorda.it\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3979"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.laquartacorda.it\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2142"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.laquartacorda.it\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2142"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.laquartacorda.it\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2142"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}