Unwinding my soul to the
adventure of new love. Letting
my heart beat to the divine
rhythm within me. Waiting,
waiting with patience and
unspoken understanding. He is
making me want the real me.
He's helping me find me.
My tanguero, my divine dance
partner. Swirling in the mist
of love that exists in the space
between us. Inviting me in as he
releases his fear, drawing me in,
drawing me near with no words at all.
The dance is a dance of the
unspoken nature that exists in
us all. The colors that fly, the
sparks that fall, the cords between
us and the space that needs us.
The space would not know its
name without the dancers to
explore its hidden nature to reveal
unmanifest intent. The space
calls to us quietly like the beats
of heart, or soft adagios.
A shuffle on the floor, slow circling of
one foot, quiet, unseen, is enough
to make the space alive with intent
and action. And in it, the absence of
impending motion awakens thirst,
reveals hunger, collects energy for
a joyful burst of culminating desire.
The lasting ecstasy of trusting shared
momentum leading us home to ourselves,
to each other. Together outwitting, out-
waiting false desire by following the
decisive movements of his cultivated
lead, his practiced acts of intention.
Is my waiting, my quiet response,
itself an indication of me? Does he,
in our dark space, feel, in my lack of
demonstration, any evidence of me?
Tepid, tepid steps and lazy lack of
flair. Do I exist anywhere in those
movements between us? Is restraint
itself a marker of divinity or is it simply
a stepping away from individuation?
There is no complete representation
of me nor of him nor of other. And in
the tango, there is no need for this
conclusion, for the dance itself is the
picture of the process, the unwinding
in motion. To hope for full realization
is to take away the pleasure of halting
desire. Of awakening dormant senses
through the deft manipulation of gentle
falls and swift recoveries. Shifting our
momentums in unexpected directions is
itself the place of joy and the ungraspable
bliss that we seek in every dance partner,
from which hoping holds us back.
Lazy legs and hearts flung forward. The
surrender requires less concentration and
more opening. Focused languishing. An
ability to receive more and more love and
kindness. To shift gracefully past fears. To
recognize ourselves in the steps, the kicks,
the fans and the music. To delight in the
mysterious unfolding. To accept everything.
The dance begins when lovers waltz
without direction, tango in dark spots
on the floor. Then the music pervades
all senses and opens them to the more.
It's then that the laughter rises past
fears and old regrets. It's then that they
can truly dance together as dancers who
know themselves as other.