A Week on Feeld with… a former monk

Welcome to a week on Feeld with Max, 43, male, heterosexual, based in Munich, Germany. Join as he explores partners in different cities, while reflecting on his previous life as a Catholic monk, and how his current Buddhist teachings inform his sexual life. 

I grew up in a Catholic area in rural Bavaria but was not baptized (contrary to local custom) until I was 9 years old. This was because my family did not find it important, but I believed I had experienced a calling to monastic life and priesthood. I entered a monastery boarding school at age 13, and began studying philosophy at a Jesuit university in Munich in 2002. After finishing my BA, I entered a Benedictine monastery in the Bavarian Alps and became a novice, taking on the monastic name of Fr. Augustinus. 

After a year, I left due to a severe crisis of faith that led to my conversion to Buddhism. In 2005 I became a student of Buddhist monks in Thailand. I learned healing arts and Vipassana meditation, and over the course of the next two decades focused my study on full contact martial arts, which I have been teaching, along with writing, to this day. 

Now, I’m back in Germany, exploring Feeld alone and with my partner—while remaining deeply embedded in Buddhist practices.

Friday

Hardly ever have I found the ascetic discipline of my former life as a Catholic monk more helpful than in recent days, spent with my partner in Berlin (I split my time between my home in Munich, and hers in the capital). The old adage that all men wish for a woman with a high libido until they find a woman with a high libido is amusingly true in our case—or it would be if I didn’t have certain fallback strategies up my sleeve when I spend longer periods with her. (Strategies taken from my time as a monk, but also my current work as a teacher of Buddhist martial arts and contemplation). 

So, as in the days when I wore the habit of the Benedictines, and climaxes were forbidden fruits, I have prohibited myself from release for the last four days in order to be able to keep up with the... appetites of my partner. This is a feat I find even more difficult than the complete chastity of the past, since the latter becomes easy once you forgo any external—or internal (via fantasizing)—stimulation. Being the plaything of a demanding woman, on the other hand (poor me, I know)... the stimulation never ends—so neither can the discipline. 

However, as it’s our penultimate day together, I finally allow myself to go over the edge after five days of "fasting." The ecstasy after the long wait is of course enormous and blissful, but the aftermath reminds me why I decided to refrain in the first place: I turn into a cat-sloth incapable of any activity other than cuddling and napping.

Still, we’re in Berlin, the capital of German kinkiness. I’m intrigued about the prospect of pairing our Feeld accounts and finding someone interested in joining us for some FFM play—a scenario I have had huge fun with in the past. However, my partner would prefer to pause on this idea for now. Patience it is. Odysseus remains bound to his mast for the moment and ignores the lures of Berlin.

Saturday

Our last day together this time around. For a long-distance couple that has only been dating for a few months, this is a day charged with emotion. And while all the feelings of passion, closeness, and the poignancy of farewell for now are very much present, there is a second narrative playing out within me as well: let’s call it re-alignment. As someone who has spent most of his life alone, focused inward, spending so much time closely together with another person is new and challenging. 

If I’m honest, a large part of me welcomes our parting. Not because I don´t love her or don’t want to be with her, but because I don’t quite know who I am yet within such a close connection. When I am by myself, there is austerity, yes, but also clarity. Every hour of my day is structured and focused. There are time slots allotted to meditation, breath work, martial arts, writing, working, walking. And I revel in that clarity; it is a constant source of strength and creativity. It’s no wonder that ascetics and ascetic communities all over the world have been wellsprings of art and scholarship—the lack of distraction wonderfully focuses all faculties on the tasks the practitioner sets himself. 

I am well aware that the joys offered by a relationship, the emotions and passions that come with it, and all its unpredictability, can be a challenge. The equilibrium that upholds the crystal palace of meditative tranquility can quickly be swept away. There may be masters who are able to integrate this dimension within the framework of their exercitium or zen (in Latin and Japanese, "spiritual exercise"), but I am not yet one of them. For now, it is a see-saw game of focusing—interacting—and refocusing, a new kind of practice that I am learning to take one day at a time.

Sunday

My first day by myself in ten days. For the moment, the joy of re-establishing my routine outweighs the sadness of separation. I consciously avoid most human contact, let alone the use of dating apps, in order to re-anchor myself. Reflecting on the seemingly paradoxical knowledge that I actively enjoy being separated from the person I love the most in this world, I realize that this is only a contradiction if I allow it to be one. All my life I have been able to draw the most strength and inspiration from my time alone, and my partner loves me as that very person—so perhaps there’s no contradiction at all. I allow myself to recharge in order to be fully present in our relationship once we reconnect.

As I write this, the irony of my writing for Feeld hits me: I am compiling reflections on a relationship I would have considered deeply sinful 20 years ago. How did that monk become his polar opposite? The urge to pursue a monastic path had made itself felt early. All my life I had been fascinated by myth: Greek, Norse, Middle Eastern, Celtic—but the Christian myth was set apart by one defining characteristic: It was still alive. I could never hope to become a Homeric hero or a knight of the round table, but the magic formula "verbum caro factum est" (“the word has been made flesh”) is still enacted in churches all over the world today. 

But as attractive as this theodrama may be, it simply was not enough. To me, it was re-enactment of past events, a drawing of lines out into emptiness. Buddhism, though, was a different story. The method handed down from the Buddha and his successors could be put into practice right away, and with immediate, groundbreaking results. It also allowed me to see that I was living in celibacy for the wrong reasons—proving myself superior to the unwashed masses by my greater willpower and self control.

I am deeply grateful to this day that I was able to work through both the guilt and self-loathing Catholicism left me with when thinking about my sexuality, and the twisted competitive asceticism that had suppressed my longing for physical and emotional connection. For someone who didn’t grow up within a framework of curtailed sexuality, the intensity of liberation from it is probably hard to imagine. But take it from me: once you realize the rules are made up, the entire game changes. As I began to take my first tentative steps into exploring my sexuality in my mid-twenties, I soon found that—after lifting man-made laws—I could move freely within a field delineated by three guidelines: Respect for myself (which includes knowing where my limits are and not overstepping them), respect for my partners’ boundaries, and honest transparency. In more definite terms, for me this meant that the concept of monogamy suddenly felt like Theoden’s crutch in The Lord of the Rings. I had held on to it only because of the whispers of advisors from the past. It was time to let it go. 

Similarly, I learned that the pressure cooker of catechetical morals had had a very interesting side effect. Since all active sexuality had been forbidden (yes, even masturbation—long were the years), my mind had become a fertile ground for fantasies—to the delight of my partners. I still remember the day I dared to share a glimpse into what was going on in my mind with my very first partner. I feared that I would be met with rejection or even disgust. But on the contrary, she was grateful that I had trusted her with such a vulnerable part of my personality. We ended up acting out the fantasy I’d shared. 

I began to become more and more outspoken, which became dirty talk, which soon became engaging in erotic role play and writing erotic short fiction for my partners. My fantasies had always revolved around power play, and from my first erotic encounter I knew that receiving and inflicting pain only served to heighten stimulation for me. Imagine my joy at learning there was a whole scene out there, waiting to be explored. I came to dating apps rather late (around 2018) and discovered Feeld only 3 years ago, but it has opened the door to real possibilities I once thought would only remain fantasies.

Monday

"For it’s witchcraft, wicked witchcraft," to speak with Sinatra. As (bad) luck would have it, I immediately make a new Feeld connection on the day I am leaving Berlin. Her profile says she is living a semi-nomadic lifestyle with Berlin as her hub, and I am immediately attracted to her sporty physique. I compliment her and receive a friendly reply; we agree to stay in touch and maybe meet if we show up in each other´s cities. But for now, all I can do is say goodbye and return to the kink-wastelands of Bavaria. 

I spend the day on the train, pretending to work while my mind is replaying pleasant memories of the past week, refocusing on the present moment as well as distracting me with fantasies about future encounters with my partner.

Tuesday and Wednesday

The contrast between my semi-monastic life in Munich and the wild days in Berlin is quite stark, in a positive way. My routine—sleeping on my tatami on the floor, meditating, training and teaching martial arts—provides me with a constant flow of energy that is a joy in and of itself. While the desire for connection always returns after a while, infallibly, these two days are complete the way they are, and perfect in the solitude they offer.

Thursday

After an intense day at work, I meet my Munich-based play partner in the evening. We met on Feeld a few months ago, and I’ve enjoyed our contact immensely ever since. Her profile wasn’t very elaborate, but her pictures still intrigued me. The first time we met, I was immediately enthralled by her humor and quick-wittedness. After a few dates, we agreed that we wanted to explore Feeld together and linked our profiles. For my present situation, it is the perfect kind of connection since both of us are content with the status quo as friends with benefits and don´t want any deeper emotional attachment. What I particularly appreciate about her is her sense of adventure and desire for playful exploration. She has introduced me to the joys of voyeurism, I returned the favor with anal sex, and we have had one very entertaining threesome with another woman. That particular experience fulfilled my ultimate switch fantasy, where my partner instructed me on how to dominate the woman who had joined us, allowing me to be submissive and dominant simultaneously,—so far a once-in-a-lifetime experience. 

This time is a bit strange, though; at first my body does not react to the moment. While it isn't the first time I’ve experienced this, it’s been rare in recent years, and has never happened with her. Thankfully, she reacts with understanding and humor. But I am quite baffled: my theory is that I may be experiencing something I´ve heard the monogamous crowd talk about—that you can be so exclusively focused on one person that you simply don’t react to another. My body may have arrived in Munich but my mind obviously still resides in the North. Once this becomes clear to me, I make a conscious effort to come back to the present moment, which resolves the issue. We spend a fun evening together, exploring Feeld to find a potential partner for another threeway. We quickly notice that our respective tastes in women are quite different, which leads to a bit of mutual teasing and debate. We narrow it down to maybe five or six potential future partners but get no immediate connections. So, we part with a shared curiosity, anticipation, and a promise to continue the search. 

As the week comes to a close, I find myself quite baffled upon realizing how strongly intertwined matters of the spirit, heart, and flesh have become in my life. From a philosophical perspective, this is of course not much of a surprise, but experiencing it firsthand is an altogether different matter. I remember one of my great inspirations, the 15th-century Zen poet Ikkyu: The tools of the spiritual trade need not necessarily be meditation cushions or weapons. Embraces may be similarly valid and effective. Translated by John Stevens, Ikkyu writes:  

“The narrow path of asceticism is not for me; 

My mind runs in the opposite direction. 

It is easy to be glib about Zen—I´ll just keep my mouth shut

And rely on love play all the day long.” 

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