Control

What do you do when everybody just WON'T LISTEN!

They don't cabaceo, they don't dance close embrace, they eat up the floor with space-hogging combinations, they step backwards against the line of dance, in short, they RUIN TANGO!

If EVERYONE ELSE is the problem, well, you've got a real problem. What in the heck can you possibly do about everyone else? You're on a long road, my friend.

Then it becomes time to question your motivation. What is it that you really want to accomplish?

Answer: CONTROLLING other people.

Instead of controlling other people, there are all sorts of things you could do about yourself. You could refuse to dance with people who don't invite you the way you like. You could refuse to dance with people that don't dance the way you like. If the place is filled with dancing you don't like you could find other places, or if there aren't any you could host your own private parties. You could move to Argentina. Your own behavior is within your power.

You aren't going to change EVERYONE ELSE. Confront this, and you see readily that you are powerless to do that.

Just like the rest of life, serenity in tango can best be found like this:

SERENITY PRAYER
God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
The courage to change the things that I can;
And the wisdom to know the difference.

Are you ready for this?

Women don't really want men to impress us. What we really like is for men to be impressed by us.

Acceptance

I wrote a post of encouragement on the Tango-L mailing list to a man who voiced his frustrations about finding the right way to lead. Acceptance is such a very large part of dancing tango. It's one of those tango lessons that transfers right back to life.

You know, A., it just really isn't easy, so forgive yourself.
You're going to be fine. You're trying so very hard, and that means
the answers will come. Meanwhile, friendship counts for a lot. Your
partners notice and appreciate that you're sincere and considerate.
They like that. I know you want to be a good dancer, and I'm sure
you're on your way so I'm not telling you to settle for less. But
honestly, women who have been around a while are very thankful just to
dance with someone who cares.

For a while, the hardest women to dance with will be the intermediate
dancers who are just as ambitious as you are and wishing they could be
dancing all the time with the "great" dancers. You, too, will find
just how much friendship matters, and years from now you'll still be
dancing with the ones who were kind to you when you were starting out.
Somehow, it won't matter to you if they never really became such great
dancers. You'll be dancing with them just because of who they are and
how you feel about them.

Then tango will be taking care of your soul instead of the other way
around. That's tango for the long haul.

Eventually your most serious efforts will become a private matter and
you won't keep apologizing out loud for where you are and what you
think you might have flubbed. It isn't arrogance, it's acceptance.
You're allowed to accept yourself while continuing to strive to be
better. People like being around someone who accepts himself. It's
less work. Once you accept yourself, you'll also discover something
else very magical, that you even have the power to accept other
people, too, and wow do they ever like that! You'll have hundreds of
partners beating a path to dance with you and you won't even be
trying.

Have a great time!

Floating islands

I danced with F and M last night. I can tell you that one is calm and elegant. I can tell you that the other is experimental and excitable. I know both of them very deeply. I know which tangos they like and which notes they like to accent. I know how they embrace me. I know their scent. I could recognize them in the dark.

I've known them for years.

I have no idea what their last names are. I don't know what they do for a living. Isn't it interesting how close and yet meanwhile how isolated we dancers are?

I work at my job to make a living. It's a fulfilling job. I'm happy doing it.

But my destination is the milonga.

You could say that I work in order to dance. On the other hand, you could also say that I dance in order to work.

Creature in captivity

I am a creature in captivity.

Every time I enter a milonga, I am a creature in captivity. Never mind that I have already paid my entrada. If I thought that I could listen to music, talk to friends, and dance in peace, that would show how little I know about the transaction that really took place.

Not only am I a prospective customer before entering a milonga, I remain one once I've paid and I'm in the door. I'm a prospective purchaser of shoes, jewelry, lessons, tarot readings, rummage, and cruises. I'm a creature in captivity subject to the mercy of harpies and hucksters. The selling never stops, even though I've already paid.

I'm never sure whether I'm in a milonga or a bazaar.

The New Yorker published a sensational short story by Hari Kunzru called "Raj, Bohemiam" about monetizing personal connections. Nowhere is it more relevent than our world of tango.

You know who you are

You know who you are, but you don't know who I am.

I saw you then. You found me and we knew that we are actors. We shed the roles we play by day.

We moved together and then we parted.

I saw you last night, but you took on a new role, a character who never knew me. I saw you then, but this time you did not find me.

You know who you are, but you don't know who I am.