Held in Stillness – Touched by Touch

I don’t know exactly when it happened.
Maybe it was the moment the rope first touched my skin.
Or maybe it was the moment I realized I didn’t have to hold myself together anymore.
That I was being held.

I was curious—but nervous.
Tantra. Shibari. Two words that stirred something inside me—and raised questions.
What if I can’t relax?
What if I feel too much?
Or nothing at all?

But then there was Florian.
Silent. Present without expectation. Hands that didn’t want anything—just listened.
And ropes that didn’t bind, but invited.
Invited me to let go.

The first touch was gentle.
The rope glided across my skin like a question with no words.
Not demanding, not rushed—but with the reverence of someone entering sacred space.

The massage began almost at the same time.
Slow, warm strokes. No goal. No path to follow.
Just being. Sensing.
I felt my breath shift. Deepen.
My body slowly began to trust again.

And then there was this moment of stillness.
I was bound, but free.
Touched, but not overwhelmed.
Seen—not through words, but through presence.

My skin softened. My heart opened.
I felt memories. Old ones. New ones.
A tremble, a smile, the shimmer of a tear.
Not from pain.
But from that inexplicable sense of finally being allowed to be.
In my body. In my feelings. In myself.

I didn’t feel like an object. Not like “the woman” or “the receiver.”
I felt human. Whole. Breath.
And between rope and skin, there was something like prayer.
A quiet: “You may.”

Since then, I feel my “yes” more clearly.
And also my “no.”
I touch myself with different hands.
See myself with different eyes.
And when I get lost, I remember that hour of being held.
That hour where, through touch and binding, I found my way back to myself.

*Lea, 2023