S
o far, my life’s scariest
moments have been:
20-hour childbirth, a
shark cage dive in the
deep black waters of
South Australia’s Port
Pirie, and 360-degree
barrel rolls in an L-39
fighter jet – surreal, physically exacting
moments that made me rethink my
motto “anything for a laugh”.
How soon we forget. Again, I’m
doing something that can only be
described as nuts. My chest is trussed
with raw rope and my hands are tied
behind my back in a series of knots so
complex that Houdini himself could
never get free. I am bound. Restrained.
The man in total control has encircled
me with intricate interweaving loops
and knots to form a perfect harness.
In this state of surrender, with no
use of my hands, a lightning bolt of pan-
icky, primal fear puts me on high alert;
I am about to lose footing and be
suspended above hard concrete. “Trust
the ropes,” my rope master whispers.
Just like climbing the first peak of a
roller coaster, I know I am no longer in
control. Flee-the-building panic over-
takes me, flooding my body as I scream,
“I need people to hold me now! Help!”
Well, it looks like I found my “edge”.
Welcome to shibari (‘‘to tie”), the ex-
quisitely rarefied art of Japanese rope
bondage, originally created by Samurai
warriors to entrap prisoners. This year’s
Adelaide Fringe Festival featured a
shibari performance, describing it as
“a hedonistic blend of sensual bondage,
control, eroticism and lust,” and insisted
it would appeal to anyone who’s bored of
Sexpo or who’s read Fifty Shades and is
looking for a new sexy high.
The shibari subculture thrived in
the shadows over the past few decades,
with codenames and invite-only par-
ties. Now shibari is moving into the
light. The internet has allowed a global
community to post performance dates,
share imagery and socialise. It even has
its own circus, “Cirque Shibari”. Some
couples will add shibari to their sexual
repertoire and install a DynaBolt in
their bedroom; others use it to explore
trust and partner up platonically.marieclaire.com.au 53CHALLENGE