“Look here,” he says, pointing at his left shoulder, the one furthest from me.  “Look here rather than at the inside of the embrace.  When you look inside your head goes crooked and you’re pulling away from your axis.  Look here and it will make all the difference in the world.”

“But I can’t hide when I do that.” I replied.

“Hiding?  There’s no hiding in tango.  Why would you go out to dance in a public place and try to hide?”

I bit my tongue for a moment and then let it loose (and no I was not drinking the wine), “But it’s not the public that I’m hiding from.” I said.

I felt a moment’s hesistation in his step and then he understood.  Or I think he did.

Later that evening I finally got brave enough to ask him, though my question was still a bit vague as I was embarrassed to be asking it in front of others.  I asked him if he ever had that happen, when the connection hits so strongly that you feel dizzy and forget that you’re dancing and you completely lose track of everything but the buzzing that seems to be flooding all your senses.  He said that as the man/leader in the dance it would be quite a bad thing indeed if that happened and that was one of the biggest responsibilities as the leader, to stay present.  He also said that on the rare occasion he had experienced something that seemed like what I was describing.  I further clarified my question by asking what one did when the connection seemed to be interfering with the connection (Tango is all about the connection).  He said that was a good question as he stood up to dance with someone.

The woman that was sitting there with us asked me if I was talking about the chemistry between people or if it was something else.  I told her I thought it was more than just chemistry as it didn’t have to mean that I was attracted to that person outside of that moment of dance.  It’s just a huge surge of energy/connectiveness that overwhelmes me.  I still didn’t feel brave enough to say just exactly how it affected me.  I didn’t say that the reason I lose my place in the dance and can not spare a single thought for collecting my ankles is because I’m saying a mantra to myself about not kissing the man’s lips that are ever so close to my face.  I didn’t tell her how I breathe in his breath.  I didn’t tell her how even if it’s someone whom I’d not want to kiss that I still feel this urge to wrap myself around them and crawl inside their skin.  And, no….I didn’t quite tell him exactly why I had opted for looking at the inside shoulder when I danced with him.  Life has taught me that that feeling of connection does not mean that one needs to act on it.  It sure is hard for me not to though and I wanted to know if anyone else had trouble with that too and what I could do (if anything) to not let it affect my dancing.

The next time he danced with me he told me to pay more attention to my connection with the music than my connection with him.  This was exactly what I needed to do.

I still smelt his breath.  I still felt the heat of his lips.  I still felt the energy vibrating between us but I didn’t get lost in it.  I listened to the music.  I let my body move to the music rather than just to his lead.  I let my own expression and interpretation (however novice still) come out of me instead of relying solely on him for each step.  I still ”followed” but he (and the connection between us) wasn’t the single focus point….I was also dancing to the music.  We were dancing to the music.  And the music led us around the dance floor.

Tango is a very sensual dance.  There are many that would argue that it’s not sexual but when you really connect with someone you connect all the way through and the more-than-occasional feelings of arousal and desire are just one part of that connection.  I close my eyes and feel and I see the connection between each chakra in his body and mine (depending on who I’m dancing with of course but irregardless of my skills as a dancer).  That energy doesn’t care what they look like or what their age is.  That energy doesn’t care if I can hold a conversation with that person or if we have anything more in common than dancing a tango together.   That energy is why I don’t close my eyes like so many suggest.  I close my eyes and I lose all concept of reality…and I get so dizzy that I’m truly afraid of falling down.

My physical response to connection has been a problem for me all along in this past year of learning tango.  Actually, it’s been a problem for me most of my adult life, it’s just that I’ve been facing it head on (slight pun intended) of late.  It is very hard for me not to act when I feel a strong connection with someone.  It’s hard not to want to run full on after it and immerse myself in that wash of bliss.  I’m realizing more and more that’s what it’s all about.  Wanting to connect.  Wanting to unify, whether in spirit or flesh.  Wanting to be One. 

There’s a way of being One on the dance floor.  That’s what tango is all about.  I’d just been using the wrong equation.  It’s not 1 + 1 = 1 it’s 1 + 1 + 1 = 1.  And when you listen to the music, when you follow the red notes, you don’t ever get lost.  Not really lost.  Not ever. Not even when you can’t hear the notes…. 

Because without the spaces between the notes, you’d not have any music at all.