Embodiment

So, my work involves sitting at a computer for eight hours most days. This means that for a good portion of my life, currently, I live right behind my eyes. The rest of my body can start to seem ... auxiliary.

Tango is one of the few times each week when I occupy my entire body. I need to use my whole physical self, head to foot--and my mind is engaged simultaneously. I become a whole person.

And not just that. When I'm dancing--definitely not while I'm sitting on the sidelines, comparing myself to other tangueras with brutal criticism (I'm working on this, okay), but while I am dancing--if it is a good dance, it can be one of the few times in my entire life when I lose all self-consciousness about my body.

Maybe someone who doesn't know me and how hard I am on myself in my mind, won't understand what a huge realization this has been for me. In those moments, I don't care who's thinner than me, whose legs are longer, who can get away with a tighter dress, a shorter skirt, who is prettier. I forget the things I don't like about my body; I don't care that my face might be red, I might be sweating, my hair might be messed up.

I forget all of that, and all the countless other things I can find to berate myself with, normally. When I'm dancing, there is only the music, my partner, and me. There is only the dance.

But I don't just forget myself when I'm dancing. As I've said before, when I'm dancing well, I feel beautiful, elegant, powerful. I actually like myself, even love myself--my whole self, however I am.

This is what I'm learning from tango.