Speak to me gently, softly.
Caress me. Move with me. Sway with me.
Sink into the shape of who you are.
Breathe with me into the space between. Inhale the fragrance of connection. Taste the deliciousness of moving together.
Every experience opens onto a panorama of joy and beauty, Every encounter an invitation to surrender more fully into life’s embrace.
I am enthralled with my lesson with Deborah Sclar, teacher from Boulder, Colorado, www.danceoftheheart.com. Very early, I recognize this lesson is not about adjusting a step – though it starts there. Nor is it about learning a dance sequence – though we deconstruct a few.
Of course, we take time to practice walking and adjusting my posture and finding my axis, forever revisiting the fundamentals. But this is all merely a prelude to exploring something more personal; my missteps happen to be clues to something deeper.
Delving deeper.
This is not merely about tango. We have touched something deep within. This lesson is quickly becoming about who I am at my core as a dancer, as a lover. The points of balance, the pivots, the embrace are all tell-tale signs as to how much of me I dare to bring to the dance floor and share with my partner: my strength, my courage, my desire for connection, my openness to intimacy.
Body-mind.
Deborah appreciates that the body has a mind and will of its own, which is not governed or directed by my intellect or will. For the body to hear and understand, it must be caressed, cajoled, spoken to in the language of the senses that bypasses words.
She addresses my chest, my heart chakra, directly: “Where are you hiding? Why do you shrink away when I approach? Why are you shy?”
She massages my sternum, runs her fingers down my breastplate, then waits for a response.
I have been told this before, repeatedly, about my chest collapsing, hiding. This is not new. It has been a focus of all my dance instructors and therapists since I started dancing. This is a big problem in tango of course, since the connection and communication come from the chest.
Dancing in my power.
The chest is the centre of power: I am afraid of dancing in my power. OK. I have lots of reasons or excuses as to why that might be. I have had plenty of years experiencing power as manipulative and abusive, cellular memories that my body guards within. (If you care to know more, check out my book, Trauma to Tango).
Deborah addresses my body again: “Come out. Show your strength. Present yourself. Handsome. Strong. Daring to dance. You are the centre of this universe. Enough mincing. Strut your stuff.”
Truly, none of the past reservation or hesitation serves me now. I step forward boldly with conviction. I bring my whole self to the embrace.
We rehearse the sequences that were problematic previously. They all have been miraculously corrected. I am leading without shrugging or steering, pulling or pushing. I am giving a clear signal of intention through my chest, which my partner is having no trouble following.
There is no hiding with tango.
Tell me how to change my dancing, and I am intrigued. Tell me how adjusting my dance will change me and I am inspired.
Tango is one of the few places that such reclusiveness, reticence and fear gets identified, addressed and resolved.
I walk around my office the next day, adjusting my posture, aware of how habitual and pervasive my slouching is. That evening my dance partner comments: “You seem taller.”
The message is reinforced. If I want to change my sense of self, it is not enough to think or talk myself through the process. I have to invite my body into the mix as well. Treat it with respect and tenderness as if it has a mind of its own. Which it does. Then resolve to practice the new me moment in and moment out.