i belong to the music (a continuation of “on being ‘good enough’”)

i started going out to dance for the dance…
and for the haunting music.
but it wasn’t hardly a moment before i started worrying about whether or not i could belong.
and whether or not i’d ever be ‘good’ (let alone ‘good enough’).
or if i’d always be too clumsy and too big and too fat…

i get ready to go dancing tonight
after a year and a half of bad ankles and surgery and healing…and still healing
and an additional 15 lbs.
and i’m not worrying about whether or not i belong
or how good i’ll be
i’ll be as good as i can be
and i’ll talk to who i want to talk with…
and i’ll dance as much as i can dance before i can’t anymore….
because i’m back to dancing for the dance
and i belong to the music.

If only for the music…

I got the bad news on my other ankle today.  Seems it has the same defect as the right one did and it’s going to take surgery to correct.  I was suspicious of it when it started swelling…which is why I haven’t been dancing much.  That and my right ankle wasn’t quite ready for it yet (it told me so).  *sighs*  I’m very bummed out…I was so looking forward to dancing again let alone being able to do all my normal activities like hiking and bike riding and chasing around after Emma.  I don’t suppose they’ll be doing the surgery for a while yet as my right ankle isn’t recovered enough to take on the full weight load.  I’m going to work hard at riding my stationary bike (that doesn’t seem to bother either ankle too badly) and keep after my diet.  I really need to get the weight back off that I accumulated over the recovery period from the last surgery before I get incapacitated again (was sorta counting on the dancing to help me out with that this summer).  I might sneak into a milonga or two for the music but I know my dancing has severely suffered from this.  The pain is too distracting after the second dance to really enjoy myself, let alone be an enjoyable partner to dance with.  I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m out of it for another year.  I should probably just invest in that better lens and an off-camera flash and become a tango photographer…  

I’ll be back, someday.  If only for the music…

onetothreefor….fivesixsevneight

 

Sometimes I wonder if it is the safety of a three minute dance that lets me feel free enough to express/expose myself…
It wasn’t always this way…
I can remember a life when I wasn’t so afraid…
But in the dance at least…I’m learning to let go.
At times it’s still difficult but when those moments of paralyzation hit me I know that it will be over soon enough no matter how frightening it seems…
And so I find a way to keep moving my feet, even if I lose the rhythm for a step or two or three…
Mabye the trick is to dance our life in three minute increments…
Then it wouldn’t be quite so scary…
And you could avoid eating half a box of chocolates just because you’re afraid to look someone in the eyes.
Because eye contact is not a necessary evil when dancing tango…unless you want it to be.

And no, I don’t dance anything like the girl in this video…but I can dream.
Oh, and I do have a pair of red shoes…

I still have my red shoes, yes I do, yes I do…

And today I swept my floors for the first time in seven weeks. (Okay, so hubby swept them a few times too but they were seriously b.a.d.)  It felt like a major accomplishment and I can handle the clutter much better when the floors are clean.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll try mopping.

It got me to thinking (while I hobbled around in my brace).  I could almost imagine dancing again…almost.  I know it’s still a very, very long ways off but the little thrill was there.  

I’ve been keeping myself away from the music.  Not being able to move to it was too disheartening and I decided that if I was to be still that I was gonna be “still” but I’m ready to hear the music again tonight and so I feel like sharing.

This is El Pulpo.  I actually met him when he came to Charlottesville.  Alas, I was too shy and self-conscious to dance with him and my babysitter expired at midnight so when he asked me (as I was heading out the door) I had to refuse stating my car was soon to turn into a pumpkin.  (Sometimes I really want to kick myself.)  Anyways, he’s got quite a unique style and it’s not the norm but it sure is cool!

This music is by The Gotan Project.  It’s what they consider Neo-tango – tango with a modern twist.  I like this style in moderation – I really love the “classic” sound in comparison (though what’s “classic” can be a topic of hot debate) but there’s a great flow to this style.  And this video is so amazing on so many levels.  It really captures all the angles of a tango (no pun intended) but that’s a whole ‘nother post (or two or three) about polarities.  :D

And here is Ester and Chiche.  My German friend dances with them and someday I’ll be in this very salon dancing tango through the night and working on our book during the day.  It’s gonna be one heck of a working vacation.  As you can see this style is quite different again - there are so many styles of tango dancing with the “Argentine Tango” umbrella.  I get irritated with “this is the right way” and “this is the wrong way” unless we are talking about basics of course (which I’m still trying to master).

And now for my favorite style of all….milonga.

When a set of milongas come on the dance floor generally clears.  Not many men are comfortable dancing to this quick beat.  If I’m lucky (and I work hard at being lucky) I’ll snag one of the finest milonga dancers I’ve ever danced with and it’s the most joyful thing I’ve ever moved my feet to.  It’s very earthy and there’s a lot of room for expression (if you can move your feet that fast!).  I LOVE dancing a milonga …

*sighs*

Yeah, I can’t wait until I’m dancing again…even if I have to wear my little flat jazz shoes.

“So long Fred…”

Well, the time has come.  I’m not too fond of goodbyes but this is one farewell that won’t hurt too badly…at least I hope not.  I’ll certainly have some pain for some time but it won’t be forever like it seems it’s been already.  Talk about being holed up for the summer…I sorta feel like I’ve been in prison.  Me and my cell mate Fred.

Of course, it’s not all Fred’s fault.  Really, it’s not Fred’s fault at all.  Fred (my ganglion cyst) is actually a byproduct of something the doctor referred to as OCD.  No, it’s not that…it’s an osteochondral defect (and yes, I had to look that up) most likely stemming from one of the many, many times I badly ’sprained’ my ankle in my teen years.  Me and my flatter-than-a-pancake feet have gotten into more than our share of mishaps…

So, not only will they be removing Fred (and no, I’m not asking for a jar of formaldehyde (can you believe my husband suggested that? (okay, so he probably joking (probably))) they will also be digging around in my joint, removing the piece of broken bone/cartilage that’s floating around in there and then doing a bunch of stuff (I stopped listening when I heard the word “drill”) to stimulate my body to produce something-like-cartilage.  End result hopefully being a whole lot less inflammation and pain and the avoidance of severe arthritis in the joint when I get older.

*sighs*

Yeah, I’m really not looking forward to this but it’s for a good cause – my health.  And once I’m healed I’ll be able to start working off those 15 pounds I gained since the pain became so intolerable that I had to back off my dancing and bike riding.  And I’ll be able to dance again…really dance.

From Elephants and Mechanical Engineering to Tango

talks on combining tango and salsa leads to:
universal oneness
center
dancing
i love african music
(did you know that latin rythyms originated out of africa?)
youtube
vistas
nature’s song
elephants
how fast do they go?
do they run?
really?
who knew?
reading mechanical digests
thinking about that chapter in science class that covered the workings of a diesel engine
remembers when diesel was cheaper than unleaded
remembers when unleaded was under a buck a gallon
thinks that with the price of hay being what it is it still might be cheaper to drive
which doesn’t really make me miss my horses any less
but there’s a bleu on on the table…
and tango doesn’t have to include the brass band
especially as the night goes on

It Takes Three to Tango

“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.

Swish-swish!

There’s just something about walking down to the corner convenience store in my jeans, flip-flops and a black t-shirt to buy a bottle of Diet Pepsi (yes, I know soda is BAD for me) and a package of Starburst that makes me feel nearly 20 (if not 17) years old again.

 

Or maybe it’s because my hair is up in a pony tail.

 

Or it could have something to do with that cute ’checker-boy-with-the-cleft-chin’ that smiled at me as he rang me up.

 

Yeah, could be that….

 

Of course, I don’t think it could possibly have anything to do with the new “swish-swish” walk that my instructor has me practicing at for tango. 

 

Nawwww…..can’t be that.

soul writing

Ever feel written upon?
Ever feel like each word, glance, touch…
left a mark that will never go away?
Oh, it may fade….
like the marks on the bottoms of my tango shoes….
but they never really go away.
They just get layered upon.
And if one keeps moving, keeps breathing with each step….
You’ll see within,
layer over each layer…
what was there from the very first step.

And it is beautiful.

(Related through current events and inspired by the one and Ony.)

They’re here…

…and sure to inspire a round of photographic evidence, which will be supplied as soon as possible.

Did I mention they were red?