On Intimacy, Porn, and Using the Raft Appropriately

I wrote this piece during a phase in my life when I was slipping, almost deliberately yet half-consciously, into consuming soft porn, the kind the internet offers effortlessly, endlessly.

One winter evening in Northern Thailand, I drew the curtains across my room, letting the outside world dim into silence. The air was cool. The hum of distant cars and scooters faded. The simple act of closing those curtains felt like giving myself a quiet permission slip. As I returned to my phone the screen, I could almost feel the script unfolding before it even began. Almost immediately, my mind connected this moment to past patterns: soft porn leading to harder content, leading to masturbation, leading to immediate gratification, followed by a familiar or a new narrative that suppresses guilt for the night… only for it to resurface the next morning.

This time, something shifted.

For the first time, I asked myself a different question:

What would it be like to not complete this loop and simply crash into bed? And instead, explore what is already here?

So I stayed.

I noticed my relationship with the bed, my immediate surroundings, the warm light in the room, and the objects that quietly shape my nights… a lip balm, an e-reader, my journal, a multi-ink pen. That curiosity felt interesting enough to curl myself deeper into the blanket on this chilly night without succumbing into a habit pattern leading to guilt.

And then came the realisation.

What I had been addicted to wasn't porn, or even pleasure.

It was guilt and shame.

At first, this felt counter-intuitive, like many insights that arise not from the conscious mind, but from deeply rooted experiential patterns emerging from the subconscious. The mind often takes time to catch up with what the experience is already revealing. Part of this delay comes from a shield of ignorance we develop in daily life, a disconnection from what's happening at the physical level, at the level of sensation in the body.

What became clear was how guilt and shame, despite being unpleasant states we actively try to avoid, can still find a deeply rooted home within us. A home that is not nourishing, yet familiar; one we often remain attached to because fear of the outside, of the unknown, has long been part of the mind's default programming as Homo sapiens. Over time, even these unpleasant states begin to form layers of identity, often labelled as ego, which we unknowingly associate with, much like the pleasant ones.

This discovery didn't come overnight. It emerged through continuous engagement with this theme over the past few months, years, cultivated by a non-judgmental, mindful observation of the lived experience.

In my coaching work, I often sit with men who aren't struggling as much with the habit itself as they are with the heavy emotional residue that follows… guilt, shame, and the stories that quietly shape how they see themselves.

I don't yet know what my journey ahead looks like. But it became clear that I was willing to heal my relationship with shame and guilt; the attachments I now recognise as no different from the unhealthy attachments I've had with other humans, situations, or my own habits and behaviour patterns in the past.

What would it take to consistently and gently take opposite action instead of crumbling into guilt?

This is the same willingness I support my coaching clients with. A willingness we already carry within us. Much like the bright blue sky, which remains vast and luminous even when covered by dark, heavy clouds. The clouds do not diminish the sky's nature; they only obscure it.

In much the same way, our potential as human beings is not diminished by shame, guilt, fear, or difficult emotions. These are simply the clouds the mind surrounds itself with. With continuous practice, they can clear. Allowing us to move toward what's possible by repeatedly returning to our willingness, and designing our lives from there.

In the days that followed, as I observed my mind asking for the familiar loop, I noticed something else: this pattern had often been the mind's way of rebooting. For years, it had also supported the transition into sleep. When the mind is tired, it often seeks more stimulation before crashing.

This led me to ask a different question whenever the urge to masturbate arose:

What does my body actually need right now?

More often than not, the answers were simple:

rest, time away from screens, a short nap, a healthy (and tasty) snack (especially around late afternoon when sugar levels dip), hydration, connection with another human being… a friend, partner, a family member, movement, a walk, time in nature.

In short, a change in physiology.

And when these needs were met, I often felt more energised than drained.

I want to end with a reminder that even insights like these are not meant to become new identities or beliefs to cling to. They are tools: useful, but temporary.

As the Gautama the Buddha reminds us through the metaphor of the raft:

A man walking along a highroad sees a great river, its near bank dangerous and frightening, its far bank safe. He collects sticks and foliage, makes a raft, paddles across the river, and reaches the other shore. Now, suppose that, after he reaches the other shore, he takes the raft and puts it on his head and walks with it on his head wherever he goes. Would he be using the raft in an appropriate way? No, a reasonable man will realise that the raft has been very useful to him in crossing the river and arriving safely on the other shore, but that once he has arrived, it is proper to leave the raft behind and walk on without it. This is using the raft appropriately. In the same way, all truths should be used to cross over; they should not be held on to once you have arrived. you should let go of even the most profound insight on the most wholesome teaching; all the more so, unwholesome teachings.

— The Buddha

The Enlightened Mind

Anthology of Sacred Prose, edited by Etephen Mitchell

This reflection is not intended to make a case for or against porn, masturbation, or any human desires, either independently or in relation to each other. It is simply an observation of my lived experience. What I am exploring here is not behaviour, but my relationship with guilt, attachment, and the insights that emerge through direct, mindful observation.

If this exploration resonates with you, and you find yourself wanting to understand your own patterns with greater clarity and compassion, I'd be glad to work with you. Together, we can gently examine what lies beneath behaviour, and what may be ready to shift.

Konark Sun Temple, Orissa, India (Dec 2025). A reminder that human desire has always been part of the human story.

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