(No, not too much communion wine. And we seldom drink at milongas. Read on.)
The hangover.
Reflections on the night before the morning after …
I took time to revisit the previous night’s dancing. What stuck with me, what I cared to hold on to, what opened me up emotionally and stretched my heart, was quite surprising:
- pausing amidst the fancy flourishes and maneuvers, languishing in the stillness, the warmth and comfort of body against body.
- a few magical moments when the music and our motion melded so exquisitely.
- looking directly into my dance partner’s eyes at the dance’s beginning and end.
- synchronizing my breathing with my partner.
- the brush of hair against my cheek.
- trying something outrageous and laughing at the discombobulation. Relieved that no one was injured.
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, irrespective of the proficiency of my partner‘s or my dancing.
The common thread is the shared space, the connection, the melding of creative energy.
It has surprisingly little to do with “fancy dancing,” stumbling through those elaborate, complicated maneuvers that sell The Tango on YouTube or at performance venues, (the steps 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 defined way with a modicum of elegance. But this does not identify the critical ingredient about tango that draws me back to the dance floor rather than, say the hockey rink or the gym.
The Holy Grail
What is it that you seek and whom does it serve?
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?
My answer is my quest: the mystical sense that bubble-wraps my partner and me.
It is the conviction that, as I invest myself fully in this ever-precious present moment with someone equally as vulnerable, fragile and questing as I, I am not alone.
My husband, Doug Hunter (passed Sept 9th). He loved the Argentine Tango, he loved all his teachers and most of all he loved all his dance partners. I think from what he described…… he did experience that bubble wrapped feeling…that heart connection. We all begin in silence, pass through the music and dance of life, and return to silence. I know Doug would want to thank you Ayden for your writing and your heart connection with the community in the dance of life. Your writing is amazing. What you describe here to me is the dance as a safe way to explore all ways of knowing ourselves through a momentary connection with another.