The Tango of Life

I was reflecting today how life is rather like the Tango. So I’m a bit biased, since the Tango is my favorite dance. It’s dramatic, beautiful, graceful, elegant, sexy, and so when done right, the dancers are HOT-- and by HOT I mean, suave, sexy, desirable, not temperature, although done properly the Tango might in fact raise the ambient temperature a degree or two. But beyond the beauty of it all is the motion that reflects the dance of life. You go forward, and back, there’s a promenade to the side every now and again, and (when really done well) a few, graceful, long dips that make everyone turn and look at how long and elegant the body is when dipped.

Take my life for example. I think about the course I was on for quite some time marching forward in time to the beat of the years. I walk steadily along a path as I left college and embarked on a career. The forward path was obvious. But then, enter my partner and suddenly there are dips, stops and promenades out to the side.

My husband is the kind of person who makes an excellent Tanguero. He tires easily of the basic caminar. It is too simple, too plain to merely walk forward. He wants to spin, to stop, step back into a caida, or bend his partner low into a slow, sultry dip. Variety is the spice of the Tango for him. Try to anticipate a move and you will be surprised. He has always been this way as far as I can tell. It was never enough to succeed academically, he had to swim and fence and play the cello as well. It wasn’t enough for him to speak one foreign language; he had to learn 4. And yet, even as he moves around the great ballroom of life, constantly changing his motion, seeking new and exciting ways to turn about the floor, he, like the most serious dancer, keeps his gaze solidly fixed on a single point, only glancing aside for a second here and there so that can keep his place. The focal point of his dance is God, who shows him where to go.

As most Tangueras, I have no choice but to follow my partner where he leads in the dance. It’s not that I’m not able or willing to lead. No, surely I am both willing and able; my early life shows clearly both a capability and skill at advancing. It’s that life is just more interesting if I surrender to the lead of him who loves me. I am the kind of person who plods forward in the most basic way. In life and in dance, I become entranced by the rhythm 1,2,3,4,5,6,7…8 and focus on that with great precision. The forward path in front of me seems best, and safest, it takes tremendous effort for me to consider any deviation. And there is nothing wrong with all of that. But with a sure partner, securely embracing me, the enjoyment of the dance is in the adorno. To me, nothing is more wonderful than a graceful sweeping dip that can only be accomplished on the arm of a strong, steady man. And I do have a most important job: that is to make it all look graceful and sexy, as if I’d known all along where we were headed.

I think of all the places I have been, all the experiences I have had, all the changes I’ve experienced because I dance in the arms of one who is creatively seeking an interesting alternative to the straight-ahead. Alone, all of these would have been terribly frightening. But with a partner steadily at my side, gazing ahead at God, it becomes a beautiful, captivating combination of experiences that have made me stronger and more graceful as I move in step with him.

Where he will lead next, I have no idea. Frankly, I find nothing more exciting than closing my eyes and trusting in the strength of my partner’s lead. It is always a thrill when, after a flurry of motion, I open them again and find myself transported to a new place. It’s not safe, it’s not easy, but it is so much more amazing than walking forward by myself.