Tangoing into 2011

Four milongas in row from tonight and the weather has calmed down enough for it not to get in the way. I’m so looking forward to each of the next four nights, partly because I haven’t danced for over a week, partly because of the very different venues, and partly (or mainly) because I’ve recently felt so liberated in my dancing – in how I dance and who I dance with. I’m going to embrace 2011 in the same way I aim to embrace my tango partners. Here’s to a tango-filled new year!

No tango tonight

I was so looking forward to the milonga tonight and to dancing with one of my favourite dancers, but the weather has me putting my shoes away and opting for a night in instead. Fingers crossed that the snow stops soon and that I can get to the other milongas planned for the rest of the week.

Tango Turns Me Inside Out

Having split from my regular partner and visiting the milongas in my own right rather than as part of a couple, I’m enjoying my tango more than ever. I’ve found a new confidence and a new connection with my partners, the music and the floor. All the tension, the awkwardness, has gone – a liberation in more ways than one! I’m back to the tango turns me inside out feeling I had lost and mourned. I’ve found my tango again and don’t intend to let it go.

Tango Treats and Traumas

My recent tango experiences have been mostly extremely pleasant, sometimes disheartening and certainly eye-opening. Floating on a sea of compliments after several milongas in succession, I accepted an invitation to dance with someone I’ve known off the dance floor but had never danced with until then. Halfway through the first tango, he told me I was dancing automatically, from memory, and not following his lead at all. I answered that I was dancing what I felt. We danced a second tango and it was no different. He then muttered something I didn’t catch, but didn’t pursue either. The third tango of the tanda was very tense and unenjoyable and I was glad when it was over. My lead said he’d like to dance with me again, but would try out a different embrace next time. I just smiled and returned to my seat,  my confidence slightly rocked. Since then, I’ve dance with lots of different people, some I know and some complete strangers. Again, I’ve received compliments. Just days ago, a woman told me a very similar story and we both puzzled over how and why this happens, that there’s someone we just can’t dance with – or someone who just can’t dance with us. It’s an odd feeling, but I’ve learned to take it at face value and not let it put me off. Maybe these people are simply sent as a test now and then, both to keep us alert and to make us appreciate all the other tangos we dance.

Invisible Tanguera

At the milonga last night, I felt invisible. Apart from a few dances with two men I regularly dance with, I sat most of the evening and watched. Although I enjoyed watching the others enjoying themselves, I couldn’t help getting frustrated and unhappy. Another woman came up and asked if I didn’t want to dance at all. Well, I guess after a while it must have looked that way, but in reality I was longing to dance. And once the frustration sets it, it’s then difficult to overcome it and I just feel I want to flee.  I suppose that must show somehow, although I tried hard not to let it. I’m starting to think I should switch to another tango community and stop going out with my regular partner. I just want to dance.

Tango Tranquility

I’m not sure where I read it or in what context, but Jantango recently wrote that: “One leaves the details of their life at the door in BsAs”. This struck such a chord and has stayed with me ever since. Despite having shared private aspects of life with certain tango friends, we manage to hang it all up with our coats and leave it there for the duration of the milonga. With some, there’s a spoken agreement that we just leave things unaddressed. With others, its unspoken yet agreed that we’re there to dance, to unfurl and to forget. I think the only place or time I’m really me is when I’m dancing tango. It’s only then that I’m in touch with my inner-most self. I suppose it’s as close as I’ve ever come to finding the tranquility I seek – to being able to stop the world and actually get off. Of course, this doesn’t happen with every dance or at every milonga, but whenever it does, then tango is my oasis, my solace, my sustenance.

Tango Crossroads

Tango Crossroads

I seem to have hit a crossroads in tango that I didn’t expect. I’ve always been a relatively confident dancer and, for the most part, have had lots of good feedback. I love tango, learn quickly and enjoy all styles. Onlookers say I have a good style and dance nicely. So why am I suddenly so unsure of myself? Admittedly, there are some non-tango issues that are causing me to be distracted and not altogether happy with myself. Still, I feel there’s something else that’s purely to do with tango. I have a niggling feeling that I’ve reached a point where I’m starting to define my tango identity. Does that make sense? Does that go with just ‘being’ when I dance? Am I supposed to be able to follow anyone and everyone? Am I supposed to want to? Since my last milonga, where I was told by two different partners that I wasn’t following properly, I seem to have lost my tango nerve and haven’t ventured out to dance for over a week. I’ve missed out on so much. I thought I was stronger than that and had more belief in myself. I so want to get out and dance, but I keep talking myself out of it. Talking to more experienced dancers and to teachers, they all tell me they’ve been and still go through phases, where they doubt their own abilities and feel uncomfortable with their cross, their ochos or whatever. One told me they’d gone for months without dancing and that it’s ok to feel like this. I’ll have been dancing tango for two years soon and have done workshops and classes with different teachers to get different insights and learn different styles – some more intensively than others. Was that too much? Has it confused my tango brain? I certainly didn’t expect to feel this inadequate at this stage. I thought I’d be relatively skilled, confident and sought-after on the dance floor, yet I’m acting like more of a beginner than I did 18 months ago. I hope it passes.

Tango Swings and Roundabouts: Is it me or is it him?

A few nights ago, after a long drive through snow and ice, I arrived at the milonga rather tense and a bit worried about the equally long drive back in the early hours of the following morning. So perhaps I was a bit preoccupied and less relaxed than I might otherwise have been. Anyway, after a warm drink to thaw me out and quite a long wait until my first dance, I found I couldn’t – dance that is. At least that’s what my partner told me. We’ve danced before and enjoyed it. This time he asked me very politely if I would mind if he led me a bit more forcefully as I just wasn’t following properly or doing what he wanted me to do. I had noticed that the communication wasn’t working as well as it could and should have (we’d danced together before), so just agreed to being led with a bit more ‘force’. The more forceful lead was far more comfortable (present). So did he lead more forcefully or with more intention? Or was it that I followed more actively having been pulled up? Our subsequent dances were better and he said I did exactly what he intended, but I still felt something wasn’t quite right. I felt it with a subsequent partner later on, so didn’t dance for a while after that as I thought I was too distracted and had somehow lost it. Perhaps it was me. Then, later on I danced with one of the local tango teachers and then with someone else I’ve danced with a few times. Everything was fine and really enjoyable. So looking back on my first dances of the evening, was it me or was it him? I guess I’ll never know.

Alexander and Tango

Any tangueras out there who have taken or who take Alexander Technique lessons? Has it helped your tango posture and/or technique? I’ve only had three sessions so far and so am still in the process of learning to apply Alexander to everyday movements and situations. I’m starting to feel the benefit and am really looking forward to learning to apply it in tango. I’m hoping it will help me overcome a foot problem and generally improve my balance and posture. I’ve tried to do it while dancing in the past week or so, but find it difficult to feel tango and think Alexander at the same time. No doubt it comes with practice and probably becomes automatic over time. If anyone has any input on this, I’d love to hear from you.

Tango Timewarp

There are so many opportunities to dance tango right now that I could be out every night of the week if I wanted to be. And part of me wants to be, believe me. But then the other part says no, if you’re out every night you’ll neglect some other part of your life and your tango outings will all become so routine, so habitual, that you’ll destroy the magic and they won’t be special any more. Having braved several snow storms and icy roads to get to milongas in the past few weeks, I’ve sometimes questioned my sanity. But was I mad?  Yes, perhaps – at least sometimes. And was it worth it? Yes, every time! There really was something magical about approaching the milonga, peering through snow-covered eyelashes and steamed-up windows to look in on another world – a world of warmth and welcome, a world of timelessness and tango. That’s what makes the decision so hard sometimes, to stay away and pursue some other activity or to step into the tango timewarp and leave everything else behind. The weather has kept me home tonight and I’m determined to attend to things I’ve been putting off – once I’ve written this, read some blogs and have explored whatever other tango-related stuff keeps me from doing what I set out to do.