The best tango dances are things you don't go searching for. They come out of nowhere, like 80 year old dancers in the hot environment of a Tango school in New York asking you to dance, you in your flats. You in your flats compared to the 4-inch CIF's whizzing past you. You in your flats, only a few months into this dance...yet knowing a bit more of your surroundings, being aware of the hierarchy, but not of how to handle yourself in this particular hierarchy. It's like your body is doing one thing while your mind is doing another.
The best dances are not anticipated, because the more your anticipate, the more it becomes a struggle.
The best dances come and make you feel like a comet whizzing through the night sky, like each of you is a twirling star in this galaxy of ours, and you're charting your own set course, never bumping into each other.
Dance. Dance. Dance as though no one is watching you. Because in that moment you're in your own little universe and you surrender, and you let someone else take over the lead for once in your life. As a member of the feminine gender, it's something we've been taught to slowly but surely...put away. Be strong. Be a man.
No. Not in this dance. In this dance you bring your own femininity to it, your grace, your curves. There's nothing like a swivelly ocho, reminiscent of that little space between the breast and the hip. That undulating curve of the back, the sides that no man can ever replicate. Which is probably why they always look boxy doing Ochos. There's nothing like it, that sensualness of the 8's, the ochos, the 8's, the lucky number.
The best dances let your body become the vehicle, let the music become the conductor and you the instrument, in a multitude of instruments on the floor. Each playing through their own stanzas, each on their own phrasing of music, yet still together harmonious.
It's a DNA of movement on the dance floor. That's all there is.
The best dances are not anticipated, because the more your anticipate, the more it becomes a struggle.
The best dances come and make you feel like a comet whizzing through the night sky, like each of you is a twirling star in this galaxy of ours, and you're charting your own set course, never bumping into each other.
Dance. Dance. Dance as though no one is watching you. Because in that moment you're in your own little universe and you surrender, and you let someone else take over the lead for once in your life. As a member of the feminine gender, it's something we've been taught to slowly but surely...put away. Be strong. Be a man.
No. Not in this dance. In this dance you bring your own femininity to it, your grace, your curves. There's nothing like a swivelly ocho, reminiscent of that little space between the breast and the hip. That undulating curve of the back, the sides that no man can ever replicate. Which is probably why they always look boxy doing Ochos. There's nothing like it, that sensualness of the 8's, the ochos, the 8's, the lucky number.
The best dances let your body become the vehicle, let the music become the conductor and you the instrument, in a multitude of instruments on the floor. Each playing through their own stanzas, each on their own phrasing of music, yet still together harmonious.
It's a DNA of movement on the dance floor. That's all there is.
Comments
Post a Comment