Dreaming Of My First Tango. What Will It Be Like?
December 17 — I’m at a restaurant in Buenos Aires. Music is playing and people are dancing. A man walks over and takes my hand without asking. He leads me to the dance floor where I have never been. Without saying a word he knows I cannot Tango but he’s a strong dancer and will lead me.
I’m amazingly comfortable with him. We don’t speak the same language yet our bodies understand one another. He moves my body effortlessly to the direction in which it should go. I’m finding space to breathe but not think. Thinking will cause me to doubt and not feel the music or the movements of my partner. I catch his eyes for a moment and they tell me that I’m doing okay, not to worry, he will lead me. I trust him. How could I not?
Our bodies have become one and my leg wraps around him. He can feel every inch of me. I can hear his heartbeat. It is much slower and steady than mine. He isn’t nervous because he has done this so many times. My heart pounds so loudly I fear it will drown out the music. It’s hard not to be embarrassed because I know he can feel how fast it’s beating and with every beat it screams of how uncertain I am about myself.
Before I realize it the dance is over. I was so caught up in every possible flaw I don’t remember hearing the music end. The face of my partner is unfamiliar and I couldn’t pick him out of a lineup. The moment is gone. Over. I’m left to go back to my chair and wonder if I’ll get another opportunity to dance.
As I open my eyes I know that I have imagined things both correctly and incorrectly. It’s the dream of the person I am and the person I want to be. I do want to Tango. I do want to dance with a partner that will lead me. Will I allow myself to be lead? Will I allow myself to enjoy the moment or will I think it to death?
I can only laugh that even in my daydreams I pick apart my imperfections and shortcomings. In my imagination I still overthink and completely ignore the joy of living in the moment.
To say I love to dance would be an understatement. When music comes on I can’t even help myself. Some of my earliest memories were dancing with my father. Not the type of dancing where he puts me on his feet. I was always free to dance however I wanted and he was my faithful partner. As I got older I indulged him as we would strut, shuffle, and swing. We were great partners.
The plan is to learn to Tango. I’m sure it will not be as dramatic as I imagined. My hope is that I can be as willing to try. It’s a serious dance and when I get that nervous and uncomfortable I laugh. Your partner is seriously pressed up against you. I get self-conscious hugging people. This is way past that line.
I won’t think about it anymore. Or should I say, overthink it anymore. I’ll come back down to earth and continue to count the days until I leave. I’m ready to go.
My end of day gratitude:
- All the dances I’ve ever had.
- For the true possibility of learning to Tango in Argentina.
- The ability to imagine. It’s here I begin to change my life.
Check out my reason for making this trip here.
