propagation effect
in the line, i am behind a good leader (whose partner is clearly in bliss); deliberate, careful, predictable. quickly, i synchronize my movement with his. he pauses. i pause. he turns right. i turn right. i begin to understand his interpretation of the music. i become part of a larger movement.
collision
in front of me, he was practicing a pattern that he had just learned in the class before the milonga. very likely in the first weeks of his journey into this art, he was exuberant. after 15 seconds of staying in one spot, repeating the same pattern many times, i tapped him on the shoulder, and said, "if you want to do patterns, please go to the center of the floor, not in the line. i get nervous when i don't know where you are going." in response, he said, "well, my back is to you, so you are responsible for not running into me." i said (believe me when i tell you that i did not raise my voice, nor was i threatening), "all i am saying is that i get nervous when i don't know what you are going to do. so, if you are doing patterns, please (gesturing towards the middle of the room) go to the center." he glared at me the rest of the evening*.
this was an unnerving moment, because i had been thinking about a proper way of expressing my frustration to a leader who enters my space and jeopardizes me and my partner...
... the night before, a tanguero rammed into me twice. this man (always) behaved as if the floor was his private space. so, whenever i sensed him, i maneuvered my back towards him. anyway, the first collision was so powerful that even as i absorbed most of the blow, the remaining shockwave was still strong enough to pop my partner away from my embrace. incredibly, to the beat, i recovered, brought her back into the embrace, and led her into a turn, away from him. i did not want to think what might have happened had my partner been between him and me.
... during a conversation, not too long ago, a friend told me that while he could project his intention, he really wanted to project a moving presence, an impenetrable space belonging to only him and his partner.
i want the tangueros to respect my space.
this is my space. stay the fuck out**.
--
* i admit that i thought he was going to wait and ambush me outside, with the kind of looks that he was throwing my way. i considered the possibilities: knife? gun? bare knuckles? yes, it was probably a preposterous flicker of a thought. in any case, i sighed, thinking that i really was not in the mood for a confrontation. i am just not that kind of person. if anything, i have found myself, time after time, diffusing tense moments in corporate settings. and these encounters have always left me drained, sometimes physically shaken, for hours afterward.
** a part of me wonders whether i am unable to preserve my space because i am usually quiet and i don't (at least i don't think i do) project any need to be territorial. i am so gleeful to be on the floor with my partner, so thankful that i am able to dance, that i just don't "want" more. to me, any space, no matter how small it is, as long as i can dance, is happiness.
this was an unnerving moment, because i had been thinking about a proper way of expressing my frustration to a leader who enters my space and jeopardizes me and my partner...
... the night before, a tanguero rammed into me twice. this man (always) behaved as if the floor was his private space. so, whenever i sensed him, i maneuvered my back towards him. anyway, the first collision was so powerful that even as i absorbed most of the blow, the remaining shockwave was still strong enough to pop my partner away from my embrace. incredibly, to the beat, i recovered, brought her back into the embrace, and led her into a turn, away from him. i did not want to think what might have happened had my partner been between him and me.
... during a conversation, not too long ago, a friend told me that while he could project his intention, he really wanted to project a moving presence, an impenetrable space belonging to only him and his partner.
i want the tangueros to respect my space.
this is my space. stay the fuck out**.
--
* i admit that i thought he was going to wait and ambush me outside, with the kind of looks that he was throwing my way. i considered the possibilities: knife? gun? bare knuckles? yes, it was probably a preposterous flicker of a thought. in any case, i sighed, thinking that i really was not in the mood for a confrontation. i am just not that kind of person. if anything, i have found myself, time after time, diffusing tense moments in corporate settings. and these encounters have always left me drained, sometimes physically shaken, for hours afterward.
** a part of me wonders whether i am unable to preserve my space because i am usually quiet and i don't (at least i don't think i do) project any need to be territorial. i am so gleeful to be on the floor with my partner, so thankful that i am able to dance, that i just don't "want" more. to me, any space, no matter how small it is, as long as i can dance, is happiness.
wuss
i have wanted to dance with her for some time. a month ago, when i approached her (ok, i ambushed her), she declined, gently.
enough time has passed, so i decided to try again.
during the cortina, i stood up, peeled off my high-tech-because-i-am-always-ready-to-go-on-an-expedition-at-a-moment's-notice-jacket, took off my glasses, and discovered that she was far away. now i am stuck. i waver, not sure what to do. not even sure whether she is allowing me to make eye contact. i start to fumble. i adjust my shirt. i unbuckle and rebuckle my belt (don't ask. it was something to do), i put my glasses back on. and then, i sat down. yes, i am a wuss.
of course, she witnessed all of this.
she walked towards me, and invited me to dance.
it was lovely.
enough time has passed, so i decided to try again.
during the cortina, i stood up, peeled off my high-tech-because-i-am-always-ready-to-go-on-an-expedition-at-a-moment's-notice-jacket, took off my glasses, and discovered that she was far away. now i am stuck. i waver, not sure what to do. not even sure whether she is allowing me to make eye contact. i start to fumble. i adjust my shirt. i unbuckle and rebuckle my belt (don't ask. it was something to do), i put my glasses back on. and then, i sat down. yes, i am a wuss.
of course, she witnessed all of this.
she walked towards me, and invited me to dance.
it was lovely.
..insert title here..
She was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, looking at the dance floor. I asked her to dance. She offered an open embrace. (OK. No problem.) And then, within a few notes, I remembered her. About six months ago, while we danced, she looked bored. I was relieved that she ended the set early. This time, the same demeanor, the same I-am-here-but-I-am-really-looking-for-someone-else-(not-you) expression. She appeared to be more interested in the brick wall than in being with me. Fine.
Then, she asked, "How long have you danced?" I replied, "Two years."
I have found two reasons (yes there are others, but these two are the most interesting) that people ask me this question. One, they think I am good. If I think this is the reason, I answer this way: "You know, it takes a lifetime." Two, they think I am a novice and they are saying it to elevate their status above mine. To these, I answer directly.
Anyway, I asked her, "And you?" She said, "Six years. In my old country, I was an assistant."
This went through my mind: "But you are not that good. I have experienced truly sublime dances. And you are not even in the same galaxy. I don't feel any connection with you. I don't feel any emotion from you. You receive my body's offer, and yet you do what you want... Why are you even dancing with me?"
I watched her the rest of the night. She kept looking at the dance floor, and she hardly danced.
Then, she asked, "How long have you danced?" I replied, "Two years."
I have found two reasons (yes there are others, but these two are the most interesting) that people ask me this question. One, they think I am good. If I think this is the reason, I answer this way: "You know, it takes a lifetime." Two, they think I am a novice and they are saying it to elevate their status above mine. To these, I answer directly.
Anyway, I asked her, "And you?" She said, "Six years. In my old country, I was an assistant."
This went through my mind: "But you are not that good. I have experienced truly sublime dances. And you are not even in the same galaxy. I don't feel any connection with you. I don't feel any emotion from you. You receive my body's offer, and yet you do what you want... Why are you even dancing with me?"
I watched her the rest of the night. She kept looking at the dance floor, and she hardly danced.
tenacity
One way to win a match in Judo is by pinning (for as long as 25 seconds) your opponent onto his back. The "rule" is: you are in control of your opponent if s/he cannot escape without your release. When the referee sees the start of a pin, he extends one arm, palm down, and utters "Osae Komi."
In this video, the aggressor quickly turns his opponent onto the mat (amazing control). The opponent fights with everything for as long as he could. You can see that, exhausted, his left hand just drops down to the mat (what a symbol!), at the end.
...
It is so easy to give up. There had been hundreds, if not thousands, of times when I had given up. (To be fair, I had also been stubborn enough to tough through many moments.) On the other hand, perhaps it's good to know when to fold...
Anyway, I wonder, how come I have not once wanted to give up the Tango. (Maybe I just haven't been in it long enough?)
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