Sunday, December 12, 2010
In search of the perfect tanda
I am no longer searching for the perfect woman.
I have found so many perfect women that this is no longer my quest. Now, I look to have the perfect tanda with them.
This is what it takes (and it is not impossible):
I have to know myself.
I know that I have limitations and some talents too. My limitations that would get in the way of a perfect tanda with the perfect woman includes (1) being a performer from being a musician for many years, which would ruin just dancing for her; (2) being nervous and trying to impress her with some new move. My talent is to hear the music and hold her as if she were the only woman in the world. I often have this sense of information transfer, but it may be delusions that her soul is talking to mine. If it is a delusion, why does it happen so often that a few words confirm what I felt?
I have to know her.
What are her limitations and talents? I may not have ever danced with her so I am discovering these things, taking it slowly, like reading a beautiful poem or walking on a path in the Cloud Forest in Costa Rica. If I sense that she is burdened by something in her life, will I especially dance as if we are carrying her load together? If she is celebrating, can we dance as if she and I were children, just happy to get out and play? She was just taking off her shoes, but put them back on for me. Do I dance, careful of her hurting feet?
I have to know the music.
We wouldn't be dancing if the music did not lead us to the dance floor, or inspire us to our first step. The music has a beginning a middle and an end, like all journeys. We are sharing this journey. I am NOT driving, although I do have an important role. I am NOT leading, although she has been taught to think that I am; her part truly is to hear the leader (the music) and we both have our roles in allowing a unique expression of two souls dancing together, maybe for the first or the last time. It is a sacred journey, teaching something about life.
I have to know the community of dancers.
The couple in front of me inspire me because I feel their embrace without even looking at them. They never put my tanguera in danger. Luckily this is the same behind me. Both are my dear friends, never tailgating or doing crazy moves on the social dance floor. Even the crazy guy off to the side, "Loco Larry," doesn't really bother me. I protect my partner from some of his wild lateral moves and his partner, "Loca Liliana," the woman who loves to whip up her heels when so inclined. I have learned some new stutter steps just because of him. Really. Some great moves are discovered in avoiding danger. Every village has a nut and every milonga too. Might as well get used to the world being the way it is.
I am searching. I am finding. These moments are marvelous.