Really - We danced, and here's proof!

More Tango

It's Wednesday, and still we are immersed in Tango. We've danced on our kitchen floor every evening, and My Pilot told me that he hears tango music in his head and imagines patterns and sequences. I am blown away by his willingness to engage in something so deeply for me.

After considering the discomfort I had working so hard in my ballroom shoes, with their very flexible by extraordinarily thin soles, I ordered a pair of Bloch Boost DRT mesh practice sneakers. They arrived today - gotta LOVE Zappos! Put them on, and they fit so well, and so comfortably. They have a split sole, so one can still achieve complete points and flexions of the foot, with a heel similar to that of an aerobics shoe (cushioning!) and a built up forefoot (more cushioning!!) with a "pivot point" on the ball fo the foot. Eager to try them out, I cued up Haciendose la del Zamora by
Mandragora Tango Orchestra out of Minneapolis and kicked up the volume on the iPod. My Pilot took me in his arms, and we danced in the front of our shop, on the tile floors. A passing family stopped to gather their belongings, and the children, maybe about 5 and 6, stood and watched. While the parents were unimpressed with our style, the little girl really seemed to appreciate it. "Do you see what they're doing? Look, they're dancing! That's so cool!". Children understand the magic of motion, better than we do as adults.

I think that's going to be the biggest challenge for me and My Pilot - learning to trust the motion, and our bodies. Learning to interpret the music from the inside out. Particularly since Tango offers so many opportunities for syncopation, pauses, double, triple or half time. And since it is best improvised, no wrong steps are possible. But you have to trust the motion, let go and follow where it wants to take you.

Chronicle of Tango Discovery

Day 1: 6pm Friday. We arrive at Conexion del Tango in Spokane a little stiff and tired from a 4 hour drive. Nervous, even anxious, we enter the studio. Two rooms, hardwood floors, old brick and stone, exposed beams, the space is smaller than I had imagined, intimate, in the best possible way. A bit below street level, the effect was like being in a fish bowl - the bright interior cast a glow onto the sidewalk, the windows in the front room at about knee level for the passers by.

The back room was larger, a seating area in the very back, mirrors along one wall, a kitchenette for making coffee, refrigerator to hold snacks. We found a place at a little table along the wall opposite the mirrors and tentatively offered greetings to the few others already gathered. Tim and Betsy, Robin, Kathleen, our studio owner and host Diane, and Ravi Taj, our workshop instructor. Pleasantries were exchanged, and we felt so out of place, having never taken a tango lesson of any sort, and having failed miserably at our attempts to learn from video. Through conversation, we discovered that in addition to being a Tango Discovery intstructor, Ravi was also a highly accomplished pilot. This additional connection gave My Pilot a far greater sense of ease than he would have had otherwise. I felt as though the Fates had conspired to bring us to this setting, with these specific people and this specific instructor.

We shared a meal, pot luck style brought by many. Beautiful salads, rice and lentil dishes, ravioli, potatoes au gratin, a bit of wine. A wonderful way to simply talk, make some friends, break the ice. It was a beautiful start, and set the tone for the rest of the weekend.

Our first exercise was simply walking, without a partner. Just moving through space, taking meandering turns, wandering. No regard given to direction of motion, to following another, just navigating space. Then we moved to doing the same with a partner. Awkwardness soon fell away, as My Pilot and I began to move together as one entity rather than as two merely connected through embrace.

One or two other exercises focusing on spatial awareness and visual cues, and the evening was brought to a close. My Pilot and I retired to our hotel room, tired, still a bit anxious about what was to come, but happy to be there.

Day 2: Saturday, 10:30am. We arrive at the studio and change our shoes. Ravi takes us through some more basic movement exercises, so naturally, smoothly, easily that any awkwardness such contrived movements generally cause in me were eliminated.

He first taught us barridas, or sweeps - leader or follower pushes, sweeps, coaxes the other's foot open, across, forward or back. Then came boleos, where the leg is snapped like a whip, or a lasso, a rope, whatever simile resonates with you. Then ganchos, or hooks - front, back, side, for follower mostly, although leaders can do this as well. We danced in our own inelegant way - nothing was wrong, just different or other than what was being taught. Ravi made us think - no set step patterns were taught, no counting, no right foot or left foot at this point. Simply different elements that make up tango. He brought to our attention the aspects that make a movement natural, flowing, pleasing to the eye and to the body itself.

When 4:30 came around, we were overwhelmed, tired, hungry, and my feet were absolutely killing me. But we had mere hours to eat, rest, repair our bodies and minds for the Milonga at 8. Diane had arranged for amazing live music from the Tango Strings, a string quintet made up of members of the Spokane Symphony Orchestra. It was heavenly - beautiful, soulful slow tangos and sad waltzes, a bit of Bizet, some pieces that really showed the European/German influence on tango music. The sound filled the rooms, made magical by the low light and twinkling candles. And such beautiful dancers showed up - elegant, practiced, some very young college students danced exquisitely, older couples who had been dancing together for years. My Pilot navigated me for a few turns around the floor, and we practiced some of what we learned in the back room. At 11 we headed out, back to the room, heads spinning, feet aching, cramping and on fire, hearts weeping for more.

Day 3: Sunday, 10:30 am. My Pilot and I arrived a few minutes early and grabbed some coffee, changed our shoes and warmed up a little bit. People were slow to arrive - most had stayed at the Milonga until past midnight and were feeling a bit weary come morning. We felt comfortable on this day, but worried that all that we had learned during our major overload session the day before had somehow fallen from our brains in the night. To our distinct amazement and the amusement of our instructor, we actually had NOT forgotten everything. In fact, when Ravi asked the students to do specific things from the previous day's lesson, we were first, on several occasions, to recall the maneuver and complete it accurately. This day was magical, not only for us, but for the other students as well. What was powered through by sheer force of will the day before, became elegant, almost easy. Social discomfort was released, as we each supported, encouraged, applauded the others without regard to level of dance execution - the important thing was that each and every single dancer could do the move!!

As we broke for lunch, Lela and Chuck invited us to join them for a bite - a welcome invitation, and so generous of spirit. We met that at Europa and enjoyed a delicious meal, great conversation, and a bit too much rest time, as we were a few minutes late getting back to class.


The afternoon was spent in arranging different combinations of elements, in whatever way we could or wanted to. As difficult as this was for me and My Pilot, we actually succeeded - more applause and validation and compliments and encouragement! I finally grasped the idea that not only was he to lead me, by agreement, cue or something short of brute force, but also that I needed to figure out how to not only execute what I felt he was coaxing me to do, but also to do it in a way that accommodated him, and myriad next steps, moves or elements. In other words, how to really make it work, with give and take. No frustration. If I failed to do the step My Pilot intended me to do, I'd do something else, and he'd adjust himself. If I needed to turn more, or less, or step out and away, or closer in to complete the maneuver, then that is what I tried to do. I cannot make My Pilot dance a particular way, or lead me in a particular fashion - I can only react and respond to the way he really is dancing and leading me. And I need to do that in a way that brings us both pleasure and ease. And he got this, too. So, I am not completely passive, waiting for him to give me some mythical dance experience full of ethereal and effortless leads and cues, nor am I imposing my own imagined structure on what we are doing. He does not have to power me through steps, simple or intricate. He indicates. Then waits. I respond, the best way I know how, and try to make it easy for him

Several times we were told, "You HAVE to keep dancing - you guys are tango dancers!" or "I can't believe this is your first class - you must be naturals." Nothing could be further from the truth - we simply were there to learn, with open minds, and blessedly open hearts.

And that, I think, is the most important thing My Pilot and I learned this weekend - to learn with an open heart as well as an open mind. That we really CAN learn to do new things, but to do so we must have patience with ourselves, push ourselves to our own place of tension. When we get confused, discouraged, turned around backward and inside out, to step back and then step it out, slowly. That we need to focus on how we feel together, not how we might look to an outsider (in our marriage, we're actually pretty good at this already). That I need to slow down a bit, get out of my head a bit, get into his head a bit. And simply make time for the unfolding.

Sunday Scribblings - Fantasy

In my fantasy, we tango beautifully. You pull me to your chest make me fly around the floor. Your hand in the small of my back, fingertips gently pushing on one side, thumb pressing on the other, giving me direction, guiding and leading me. In this way, my feet and body know just what to do - not merely what you wish me to do, but really, genuinely what to do that will please us both, in our private tango world.

In my fantasy, our dance creates a private world - something remote, viewable but untouchable. Something for those surrounding the floor to watch, much like watching the patchwork of fields, lakes, farms and towns unroll on the earth below as the jet carries you from coast to coast. Something akin to what it must be like aboard a space shuttle, watching planets and stars whoosh past. Gazing out the imagined windows of the craft, one couldn't help but wonder about the life on the planets, the history, the moment of creation of one, the moment of death of another that we will never see. This is the private world our dance creates, one with birth and death, history, cataclysmic action and reaction, all visible to the watchers, but so remote, so completely foreign that it must be understood only vaguely with the heart. It cannot be known by the intellect.

In my fantasy, our feet fly while barely leaving the ground. Our dance is slow, sinuous, serpentine, nearly appearing lazy, but with such tautness and control, strength and glide that we both, by necessity, must be fully present in the moment, fully consumed by the dance.

In my fantasy, we trace delicate patterns across the floor, round and round the perimeter. It matters not if we are the only two, or if we are surrounded by hundreds of others. Their paths are not our paths, just as the paths of the stars are not duplicated. Though they may intersect, other dancing pairs coming briefly into our orbit and passing out of it, they do not mimic the intricate path we weave on the floor.

In my fantasy, as we dance, I feel both light and ethereal as air, and yet as grounded and earthly as the very stone that makes up the fundament. I feel the flight of the birds of the air, the ebb and flow of waters on the other side of the earth, the pulsing magma at the core of our earth as it steadily progresses upwards, searching for release. In our dance, I am most fully alive, most fully connected with all that surrounds us on this planet, and most fully in my spirit. In our dance, I can see not only the thin sliver thread that connect my spirit and my body, but also the tendrils of silver that connect me to you, and you to me. From the space between our bodies and the instinctual drive to dance, we weave whole cloth. And in this cloth, woven of the dance, we wrap ourselves, blanket ourselves, together safe and protected from the outside.

In my fantasy we glide, dip, swirl, turn, spin, fly, soar, swoop. In my fantasy, you lift me and I float, you gently set me back down, and we do it all over again. In my fantasy, you, too, float, catch the air beneath your feet and soar. In my fantasy, our tango allows us to transcend time and place, and ascend beyond time and space.

The music swells, carries us along, among other dancers, in front of the rapt attentive eyes of the watchers. We know which beats, crescendos, changes in rhythm come next, and we know when this music will end.

And when the song ends, as they always do, so too our tango. A little death, this ending. But also a birth, as we drift slowly off the floor and wait for the next tanda to move us.

Sunday Scribblings

I found a lovely little blog called Sunday Scribblings that encourages creative writing by posting topics weekly - to participate, just write a bit on the topic and then leave a comment on the Sunday Scribblings blog.

This week's topic is Kissing.

Crushing, brushing, feathery lite, more breath than pressure, or more pressure than breath. Dewy, soft, smooth, gentle, firm. The neck, an earlobe, the back of a hand, or the palm. Kitty ears, baby toes.

All, the joy of the kiss.

Such great joy in being the bestower of the kiss - such a tender ministration, a demonstration of care and love and feeling and comfort, or passion and desire and need.

But to receive a kiss - from your first grandchild, your dear husband, your most aloof kitten. Immeasurable joy!

My husband and I never part without a kiss. Frequently throughout the day we'll meet only to experience the sweet joy of the departing kiss, as well as the hello kiss. We kiss when we awake, we kiss before we fall asleep. We kiss in our shops, in the cafe next door, in the street, at the grocery, when company is over, when we are company at someone else's home. We kiss in the way that people kiss in black and white movies - with meaning, slowly, with passion, but still with a bit of decorum. I don't think anyone would be embarrassed by our display.

A kiss is a little love letter sent out to the world. An intention, a prayer.

May we never run out of kisses.

New Year, New Projects

Well, '06 wound down nicely, capped off with a delightful supper with friends at the amazing Invite restaurant and bar in Bigfork. A 5 course meal, with different wine pairings each course - just the right combinations of flavors in just the right amounts. Didn't end the meal ovesuffed or over-imbibed at all. Just pleasant.

'07 opened equally beautifully. My Pilot and I slept late (til around 8am or so), then had blueberry pancakes and sausage. Bathed, dressed, and then just stayed home. It was the first day off together we've had in abotu 6 months or so, not counting the 5 days we took to see my grandson after he was born in October. And it was the first day off for both of us on which we did no errands, didn't get into the car and go anywhere at all. It was simply heaven.

I knit, of course. Finished a pair of Knucks for my dear friend Colette. Swatched for My Pilot's Branching Aran from Norah Gaughan's Knitting Nature. Milled about. Cast on a pair of Trekking socks, toe up, for My Pilot. Sat on the sofa. Petted the kitties, wild and otherwise. Simply the perfect day.

For this year, I've got a series of projects already lined up - Rowan's Aelf from Magazine 40, in a beautiful terracotta rose shade of GGH Bel Air from the stash. (This is one lovely yarn - soft and lofty, a single ply, a joy to knit, the stitches look so smooth and even, with still a touch of rustic style.) A pair of shooting socks for Colette's husband, Corey. A few squirrels for my grandson and my niece. And about every other new pattern that comes out.

But my main project, my "epic" project, will be My Pilots aran sweater. SO much searching went into finding just the right pattern. Some were too busy, most were turtlenecks. Almost all were written for worsted or heavier. And My Pilot is one hot guy - literally. He needs lighter weight sweaters, less wool, more cotton and silk. So the Branching Aran pattern is pretty perfect in every way.

I had already obtained a suitable (I thought) quantity of Elsebeth Lavold's Silky Wool in color 40, a medium golden khaki. It is considered a DK weight, and the sweater pattern called for Wendy Guernsey 5-ply, a fingering weight 100% wool. I was pretty sure I could get the required 29 sts/4" gauge on ribbing and 28 sts/4" gauge over the cable pattern. I swatched and kept feeling like the Silky Wool wasn't giving me the density of stitch I wanted - even the ribbing, knit at 7.5 stitches per inch on size 2 US needles seemed sort of open and floppy and uneven. I swatched some more. Did some math, finally determined that I'd be about a single skein short for the sweater, and moved on to swatching some Elsebeth Silky Tweed instead. Even though it is described as knitting at the same gauge as the Silky Wool, it's a multiplied yarn and seems less tightly bound than the Silky Wool, so takes up a little more space. I had DH look over the available colors on Webs, and he chose a beautiful light grey shade, which I think will be gorgeous on him. And the finished item will be much nicer, too. Now I'm just waiting on some size 4 bamboo circs for the cabling, since my Denises on size 5 were just a bit too large.

So far this year, I've learned some new things - Tubular Caston, courtesy of Anna Bell's wonderful tutorial; Norwegian Purl, since it was mentioned on a Knitty Board; that I DON'T like Addi Turbos (even the size 1, which was millimeterly equivalent to about the size 2 bamboos I have, gave me a very loose and sloppy and unpleasant and unhappy looking 1x1 rib - I'll try them on something else later); how to read a cable chart (my secret - color coding the sections so I have somethng other than a symbol completely unrelated to anything in my lexicon to guide my actions). Probably a few other things too. I'm making it my knitting goal to incorporate more unusual techniques in my knitting in an effort to elevate the finished items. Plus it's sort of cool to be in a knitting group or class and start to knit backward when working short rows, or do the Norwegian Purl thing and amaze people.

My friend Diane will begin her first pair of socks this winter - we'll get together next week to begin. I gave her a beautiful skein of Mountain Colors Bearfoot in Alpine, a blend of deep teals, blues, purples and honey. Really beautiful. And she's going to work that into something delicious for herself.

Spreading the knitting bug whenever I can.

On the tango front My Pilot and I will be in Spokane at the end of the month for a tango workshop - our first ever. I'm really looking forward to it, and hope he'll be ok. He is a very fine dancer, and I love nothing more than the feeling of his hand holding mine, his arm wrapped around my waist, his cheek pressed firmly against mine, as he swirls me around a dance floor. But I know he's only learning tango because I want it. What a tremendous gift he gives me with every single dance!

Last summer we had a kid named Jake working for us at the hotdog stand. Every morning Jake would come into the shop, every morning My Pilot would ask Jake how he thought the day would go. And every morning Jake would answer with the utmost enthusiasm, "I have a good feeling about today!!"

We adopted that tactic ourselves - and on the mornings we remember to set the intention by saying (with utmost enthusiasm), "I have a good feeling about today!", we would in fact have a tremendously good day, in so many ways.

I have a good feeling about this year!!

ps - Pics to come, sometime. Of something. Of everything! So much went out of here unphotographed it's not even funny. I want to do better this year!