The Merry-go-round

postitleswirl
I watch the milonga.
What are we waiting for?
An angel to fall from the ceiling into my lap.
Because none of these mortals here please me, nor I them.
Some ancient thing, some vestige, someone else’s dream – anything that will embrace me, lift me from this chair, and make the merry-go-round spin once more.
For we grown women have forgotten the bittersweet lesson of childhood.
The ride ends and what the one who loves you does is lift you from your favorite pony and bring you back down.
We are here in a little girl logic that someone will buy us another ride, and another, and the carnival will never end.

Sometimes we get a special pony. We swell with pride, cheeks bursting with overdue entitlement, believing this pony will never let his princess go.
… despite the glittering eyes of all these waiting little girls.
… despite the man with his hand on the wheel and the fistful of money, his open secret that no one wants to see.
But we keep flying in a fantasy of who we are supposed to be, smiles and ribbons and sparkling shoes, elevated above others’ pathways. Displayed and admired.
Our work –and it does feel like work–  is to hide the mechanics, to stabilize the jerks and shakes so our hair and smile and dress is unperturbed, so that it seems the horse does not carry us, but we float alongside, as a peer.
Although we are admired for our dress and posture, and smile, our virtue is our forgiveness of the pony’s wobbles. We display this too, inside the princess smile.
I finger the cracks in the wood, his secret, now ours, which I will cherish. Knowing his faults gives the Grown little girl the fantasy that the ride will never end. I will wrap my heart around his imperfection and know he cannot leave me. The secret is our bond …
But the Grown up pony no longer fears his flaws. He sees the line of little girls. He sees the flash of green in the ticketmaster’s hands. A cruel conspiracy of silence as the machine cranks around. No one is responsible for hearts and their hope so easily given to wooden ponies.

I want you to know that you are not alone…

embrace orig crop

… neither in your dreams for tango nor in your frustrations.

My deepest desire is the same as all my students and friends … those who have yet to start dancing and those who dance a lot.

It’s partnership.

One thing I’ve learned on this quest, we need to:

Stop Waiting for Partners, and start Building them.

I’ve written a 10-step Action Plan.

Are you ready to find the Partners you want?

 

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2020 TangoForge

6-19.February Wellington NZ
7-9 February Bruges Neo Tango

…DISTANCE…

See you at

Reflect and Train

and

Exercises from Maui

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Important Insights

Books

Power is the courage, confidence, and competence to make things happen. I want to create in a way that’s incomparable and define my own compensation package. You too?

Syntax of Power is a raw, potent, and spare revelation of how I got to where I am and how I take on the struggle every day.

This book is not about tango, it’s about everything else.

It’s about stepping into the darkness of change, learning how to take care of yourself, and making things happen.

Dyv stands for Duro y Vio. We were inspired by a 2007 conference at Harvard University about tango as a transnational culture. Also we wanted to create something that would help people to imagine a queerer tango. We forbid ourselves to use the word ‘passion’ and instead tried to articulate the experience more precisely.

Argentine Tango is more than an elaborate and difficult dance, it is an international culture of intimacy, desire, and dignity. No mere romance or memoir, the intricately woven stories evoke tango’s true mysteries … the elation, the frustration, the compulsion…

We published the book in 2009. Dancers asked “how did you know what I was feeling?”

Silences in history. Silences by code. Silences of fear. You already know that Tango’s silences can be sublime and they can be devastating.

What I do in my blog is use myself as a lens – sometimes a microscope, sometimes a telescope. I try to be as honest with myself and you as words concede. Then I try to find a deeper meaning and imagine a pathway for us.

A blog post can be a fragment, a wisp of inspiration, an outline for thinking. A book must complete and reconcile it all. Now I drag the social scientist to the scene to enumerate the facts of the case, the mystery which brought both stardom and tragedy to my life.

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