Tales From the Tango World

“Let your life lightly dance on the edges of time like dew on the tip of a leaf.”      -Rabindranath Tagore

I’ve been delving into other forms of dance after belly dancing took me under its spell. Lately, I’ve been practicing tango. This is by far one of the most difficult forms of dancing I’ve learned. There’s no formula to it; one needs only to listen. I am gradually getting better – but this has been an excruciatingly long process.

I’m just about three months into it now. I know how difficult it can be as a lead and a follow, as I’ve practiced both. I’ve been practicing more as a follow lately. My tendency in dancing throughout my life is to automatically take the lead and laugh maniacally on the inside as my dancer partner attempted to rein me in. There is no flexibility for that sort of nonsense in tango and I have to learn to yield to someone else every now and then.

There is a tremendous amount of trust that one gives another in order to follow in tango. I'm learning to trust. I have yet to figure out if the hesitation is PTSD, my own reserve or just plain stubborness.

I think this cat displays better posture than me. 

There are good nights and bad ones. Sometimes one gets off on the wrong foot – literally and metaphorically. The partners that are most patient are the leads that I most enjoy.  I make a step they didn’t want. They tell me it’s okay. They remind me not to tense up and relax and the crazy things I’ve come up with that are most likely not a move in any form of dance expression have even amused some. I am grateful because they are willing to teach me, give patient and gentle instruction and aren’t too bothered by what can only be described as my sacrilegious tango antics.

This is lovely, too . . . and also far more advanced and trusting of her partner than I think I'll ever be.

Not all nights are as fun. There are times I can’t connect with the music, I can’t connect with the lead, and the lead is very annoyed by me. Last week I arrived at the practica a tad bit late. I was out with girl friends and lost track of time. I was partnered with an older and more experienced dancer. He was immediately frustrated because he said my step was not wide enough and this was thwarting his attempts at a pivot turn. I widened my step. He rolled his eyes barked that I was over dramatizing the move. I had no clue what this guy wanted from me. I felt bad because it was obvious that I was frustrating him. I tried again. He dropped my hands in the pose and said, “She just showed us this five minutes ago.”

Needless to say, I ran away as quickly as my legs would carry me without breaking a run as soon as the lesson was over and I avoided eye contact with him all night . . .  and was a horrible follow that night. I wasn’t connecting with anything and far too afraid of pissing off the leads. Truth. He attended the milonga last night; I still avoided eye contact, but did exchange the superficial pleasantries of “How are you?”

I’m horrid, but I’m learning. There are times I can get into the music and share a beautiful moment with my dance partner, and then I make a mistake, tense up and start to over think and anticipate much to the dismay of the lead. It can go downhill quit rapidly from there.

Regardless of the handful of bad experiences, I’ve stuck with it. When I first began a tango course at Portland State a seasoned dancer was kind enough to take me under his wing. He encouraged me to stick with it, praised me when I made a ‘perfect step’ and told me to own it because I am elegant. I thank you Kind Sir. He would never let me apologize. Ever. While I have not seen this gem of a lead and overall fabulous human being in a while, he still sends me links to events he thinks I’ll enjoy.

I remember once when we were practicing a tango form of a box step. We were doing well. He had me switch sides with him so I could watch us in the mirror. It was lovely. Our legs moved in synch and perfect alignment. I would not have been so excited about committing myself to this had he not shared that moment with me.

See how beautiful it can be? 

To the encouraging leads of the world: I commend you.

I imagine for most dancers, there is always room for improvement. I am still stepping on toes, getting my toes stepped on, kicking, being kicked. I almost always carry a bruise or two from a tango grapple. I don’t mind; it’s worth it. I have a very long way to go to look as graceful as most of the women out there. Every time I sit out a set I watch as they effortlessly float across the floor in their narrowly heeled tango shoes.  They are as lovely as the dance.

Perfectly pointed toes. I don't know how they do it. 

I hope the clumsiness and awkward movements dwindles away eventually and I can be as graceful as they are. I imagine it’s much more enjoyable for the leads – even the patient ones who are willing to let me dance sacrilegious tango as part of the learning process.

“To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful,  more powerful.” –Agnes De Mille