i make love for money
„if love is a language, i make poetry.“
i touch naked strangers.
that´s my job.
some call it a ritual, some a form of spiritual practice. some call it a service, some a profession, even a calling.
some call it unconditional love.
how can you love everybody? you may ask.
sounds weird.
i do not.
love everybody.
this love is not a feeling, but an act. it is not inside me.
neither do i give it.
this love takes shape in between me and the stranger.
it is the way i touch them. it is the way my gaze falls on them. it is how my breath aligns with theirs. it is the tender space i weave around us.
this love is not personal. it has nothing to do with the person in front of me, what they do, who they are, how they look.
is it fake, then?
maybe this love is actually more truthful than the personal and romantic kind.
i do not make love to strangers, but with them:
we create it together by a leap of faith and the willingness to surrender to the magic of the moment.
what i do make love to is the human experience.
all of it.
what i make love to is our pure humanness. our vulnerability.
our longing for sense of safety, for just being, for pleasure, for surrender, for the vitality that lives in our loins, which can flow into our whole being - if we know how to let it.
i celebrate the fact that our bodies are always here for us to provide pleasure and calm. if we know how to let them.
i do this by touching them with warm oil.
by caressing. holding. kneading. stroking. gliding. embracing. flowing. washing over them with my whole body. pausing and holding.
sounds weird?
it is not.
the separation of body, mind and soul is a terrible lie.
i believe humans are whole beings.
therefore, i touch their hearts by touching their bodies. gently. thoroughly. without exception.
my hands whisper softly: you are safe here. you are okay. i´ve got you. all is well.
and then
i show that love can also be a form of art.
the materials: gentleness, care, attention, humor, rhythm, tension and release, excitement and ease.
i make love for love´s sake.
i do that for money.
sounds weird?
it is.
it´s weird. and cruel.
and necessary.
no one with a full job can give tantra massages on a regular basis.
the only way to give what i can (and am meant to?) give, is making a living from it.
it´s hard sometimes.
but not because making love is hard.
because living is hard.
it is tough to be/become/stay whole and sane in a mad, broken world.
because i know that, i can help with it.
sometimes i think trust is the hardest thing there is.
and the most important.
feeling safe and radically welcome for a little while is no trivial matter.
being able to create that for a significant number of people feels extraordinary.
some call it magical.
is it magical?
no idea.
if you consider it magical that naked people come to trust a complete stranger within minutes, almost only based on nonverbal communication, to the degree that they entrust them their whole body and soul …
if you consider it magical that „energy“ (also known as Prana, Chi, Mana, Ki, Ha …) does its thing and things happen, no matter what you call it or if you even believe in it …
if you consider it magical that people change. within one massage, or many, a significant change is often perceivable.
a glow in the face. a straightening up. a softness towards themselves and everything around them.
i make love for money.
does it matter that people pay me for an experience of being utterly themselves, utterly human, utterly here and now, utterly peaceful - utterly something that feels completely and so pleasantly unrelated to the despicable mammon or the idea of labor.
i was never sure about this, and probably never will be.
what i do know: in the silence … in the full, warm, soft silence … when it is all over … right before i leave the room …
it does not.
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