I took time to revisit the previous night’s dancing. What stuck with me, what I kept, what opened me up emotionally and stretched my heart, was a surprise and revelation:
- the pause amidst the fancy flourishes and maneuvers to rest in my partner’s arms, relishing in the stillness, the warmth and comfort of body against body.
- a few magical moments when the music and our motion melded exquisitely.
- breathing with my partner
- the brush of her hair against my cheek.
- an encouraging comment shared in conversation around the coffee table.
- looking directly into my dance partner’s eyes for the first time.
- having the opportunity to share concepts like “aligning the heart.”
- being goofy.
These are the intricate, delicately embroidered moments of intimacy that nourish me. And they come in so many varied ways, on or off the dance floor.
The common thread is the shared space, the connection, the melding of creative energy. It has surprisingly little to do with the proficiency of our dancing (or lack thereof), stumbling through those elaborate, complicated maneuvers that we spend all our practice time attempting to imitate and never quite getting.
Sure there is the delicious, albeit fleeting, satisfaction that comes when I finally manage to contort my body in the prescribed way with a modicum of elegance. But this does not identify the critical ingredient about Tango that draws me back to the dance floor.
So what is the appeal, the pull, that keeps me plugging away, long after the delusion of proficiency has been ground under the excruciatingly pinpoint honesty of my partner’s stiletto heels?
The answer also remains my quest:
the conviction that, as I invest myself fully in this precious, present moment with someone equally as vulnerable, fragile and questing as I, I need never feel alone.
(Revisiting a blog post from 2015).
Reflecting upon your blog this morning. What touched me most in this post, Aydan, was the reminder that connection lives in the quiet moments. A shared breath. A glance held. A body resting against another. A moment of being seen.
What matters is the vulnerability of showing up fully, imperfectly, and meeting another person in that tanda.
Maybe that is what we are all longing for: to feel deeply connected, even for a moment, and to know we are not alone.
Beautiful. YOu always express things more eloquently than I.
I adore your writing. I am only different than you. LOL