I recently attended what was probably my third milonga. It was a busy party, and friendly, and I felt extremely well cared as a newcomer and beginner.
It took a very long time, though, and some words of wisdom, to find my footing.
My friend Natalie was the first to invite me to do a walk on the dance floor. At the end of the tanda, I was exhausted.
Every step was full of hesitation, trying to think and remember lessons and techniques, change weight, what about an ocho, a side step, maybe if I walk this or that way. I felt everybody was watching my poor attempts.
The same happened later, this time Sally extended the invitation: “Would you like to do a walk around the floor?”. I still said yes, inexplicably.
The tanda resulted in a robotic, disconnected, also tiring, experience. Self-consciousness was underpinned by a sense that I was boring my dance partners to death.
So I went to my seat determined to be only observant for the rest of the affair. Feeling out of place, while trying to look cool.
That’s when the tango teacher Ruth Rozelaar, came to sit beside me to ask how I was doing. I confessed my apprehension. She made two observations.
“If it helps”, she said, “nobody is watching nobody”.
And then:
“As a leader, you need to be aware of the other leaders and where they are. Be as predictable as possible to them.
“For the follower dancing with you, however, be as unpredictable as possible”.
Somehow, a sense of quietness grew in me as I was making sense of her words.
The DJ announced the last tanda and the last song for the night.
Milonga in Exeter, Devon, UK
At that moment, Natalie rushed towards me with a smile I could not reject. She took my hand and dragged me to the dance floor for that very last piece.
As I prepared my stand, a thought came to me: “To hell with tango. Drop the project and dance as you know”.
And there I was, throwing “whats” and “hows” out of the window, and staying only with the “want” of my body. I was dancing, relaxed, dancing, navigating the floor, leading my partner, dancing, with a rhythm, as my body wanted.
It was a deliciously imperfect walk.
On the way to the car, Natalie commented. “You know, that last song, that was tango. You were going somewhere”.
Form and flow
As I reflect on what happened, a memory of a recent lesson comes to me.
I was learning what some tango teachers call walking ochos.
It wasn’t again an easy endeavour, but after some stumbling on my part, and lots of patience from my teacher Stania Diffey, I got there.
For a few seconds, in a close embrace, my torso was feeling and following hers, I invited ochos while walking with diagonal steps. My hips moving around her. She was a master at responding with grace, slightly dissociating and taking back steps.
In that brief moment, the technique moved from the head and got embodied.
It was not a conscious act of embodying, but an act of dropping the design.
It was an act of surrendering, with a meaning that is far from submission, and more akin to a sense of trust. Yes, I studied the movement and practised consciously, even to the detail. And then, for an instant…
Within the structure of a tango lesson, we both surrendered. If you allow me a metaphor, it was a stream flowing through river banks. Ease and direction. Form and flow.
Exquisite.
I don’t need techniques, but I need to learn them and then let them go, giving my body a chance.
Stay attuned
Jesus Acosta
Transformations:
The Healing Power of Tango
On 6-8 September, an International Transdisciplinary Conference will take place in Berlin. Leading experts in neuroscience, medicine, yoga, and mindfulness, together with trauma therapists, tango dancers and performers will explore the effects of Argentine tango on mental and physiological health.
Registrations are still open to participate in person and also to watch the most important parts of the conference online.
Tango in Totnes
The experienced tango teacher Ruth Rozelaar is teaching again in Totnes, where I live. Many of us cannot believe our luck!
Anatomy of Surrender
This is an analytical take on the meaning of surrendering in Argentine tango. Published in 2001 by the psychoanalyst Susan Kavaler-Adler, it comes with a warning that now feels painfully familiar to me: “Learning steps that create an agenda in the man’s mind can interfere with him surrendering to connection with himself, with the music, and with his partner in Argentine Tango”.
