Intentional Touch.

My daughter and I are sitting at an outdoor patio cafe overlooking Kitsilano Beach, downtown Vancouver, idyllic. Two young gentlemen (I use that term in the broadest sense of the word) sit down at the next table and begin spewing mouthfuls of sexist slurs. 

My daughter, straight out, calls them on it. “I’m gay and I don’t appreciate you referring to people as faggots.” 

“Sorry,” they respond, appropriately embarrassed, “We didn’t intend anything by it.” 

Sara, “That is just the thing. It means what it means whether you intend it or not.” End of story.

We walk away. The two husky fellows are left to reflect on how they have just been put in their place by a 5’2” young woman. 

I have on occasion, (OK, lots of occasions), found myself on the wrong end of similar exchanges where my presentation didn’t match up with my intention. Or, just as likely I had no idea what I was intending. Perhaps, as the fellows above, I didn’t intend anything by it. I just let fly without any forethought as to what I might mean or how someone else might perceive or receive it.

That’s just the thing. It means what it means. No excuses or lame apologies.

Communication is difficult and challenging – especially when we add in the non-verbal component.  Social sciences tell us that 80% of what we are communicating is through non-verbal cues, involving our entire body, actions, gestures and intonation. 

Another non-intended conversation: 

I am at a funeral. I approach an estranged family member with the intent of smoothing over some past offences. I put my hand on her shoulder and compliment her on her appearance. We exchange a few brief pleasantries and then both go our way.

End of story??? Not quite. My approach was perceived as a sexual overture. An enhanced dramatization of the event was circulated throughout the family, leaving me with a lot of dirt to clean off my face. And the fractured relationship remains to this day. 

Of course, I had not intended to offend. I was trying to be polite, and mend fences. But that’s just the thing.  Good intention does not guarantee how an action is received or perceived. Given the context, I can appreciate how my approach was intrusive and disrespectful.  

Good communication requires considerations of intention, context and execution in addition to content. 

Especially if it includes touch. Physical separation is the last boundary or barrier between ourselves and another person. Touching someone is a penetration of that boundary and presumes an intimacy or familiarity. It needs to be attempted with utmost care and consideration. 

A coffee table discussion: “Bloody hell! It’s a minefield out there. How on earth are we supposed to know all this? Do we have to draw up a legal contract before we touch someone? Should we get the other person to sign a waiver in case they take offence? Maybe we should just play it safe and not risk getting close at all?”

Not an option. We have to communicate and connect, physically and verbally. It is what makes us human. We are social creatures. Our sense of self comes from being in relation, seeing ourselves mirrored in other’s attention, touching and being touched. 

The solution is not less contact but more – of the right kind.   

Communication and connection, especially with touch, require skill. It is a learned art. Of course we make mistakes, errors in judgement and execution, all the time. That is how we learn. Hopefully, we do not cause too much harm in the process and grow from the occasion. But we have to learn and learning is difficult and painful. 

This is what makes Tango so rich. The Tango just happens to be the perfect medium for learning how to communicate non-verbally, matching intention with perception. Tango is communication par excellence. Consider …

… the skills that enable two dancers to move as a super-individual ensemble, to communicate without time lag, and to feel the partner’s intention at every moment. How can two persons – walking in opposite directions and with partly different knowledge – remain in contact throughout, when every moment can be an invention? (Michael Kimmel, Intersubjectivity at Close Quarters: How Dancers of Tango Argentino Use Imagery for Interaction and Improvisation.) 

Michael goes on to describe this process in a 50+ page technical description of all the elements involved in the dance! A much more accessible and fun option? Weekly YEG Tango lessons!

The real benefit of the Tango form is that all of this intricate, sensitive, sensual learning is constricted to the structure and limits of a 10-minute spin around the dance floor. One is allowed, even expected to make mistakes: holding someone too tight, stepping on someone’s toes, not understanding someone’s intention, learning to say “no” to an invitation to dance… The list goes on. 

Yes, Tango is not easy or simple, but then neither is communicating. Over time one learns to be comfortable in close proximity to another person. One develops a sixth sense for when it is OK to touch, even just a hand on the shoulder. Perhaps even more important, one learns to be comfortable in one’s own skin and with being touched.

Addendum:

I have to add one more interesting tidbit of Tango learning. I am quite aware of late that my partner, a follow, reads my intention even before I express it bodily. How do I know this? 

Brain farts! 

Every so often I lose my concentration or intention for a nano-second (not nearly enough time for it to register in my lead) and my partner stumbles instantaneously. We both apologize profusely, assuming responsibility for the stumble. Truth is, the misstep was a co-creation as a consequence of my loss of concentration (brain fart). She is dancing my intention even more so than my actions. 

Fascinating. Quantum entanglement? Maybe next blog.