Tang-go Already

I really love Argentine Tango. It's right up there with Aikido, yoga, ultimate frisbee and basketball in my pantheon of most loved physical activities. I felt an immediate affinity for it right from the start. Several friends have been avid tangoers, and one recommended it to me when I expressed interest in learning to dance. I shyly started with some free lessons, and eventually moved on to regular weekly classes. I felt that I had finally found a dance that I was really comfortable with, and the emphasis on movement originating from the core rather than the limbs was a very familiar concept from my Aikido instruction. I developed a great rapport with one of the teachers, and she always made me even more excited about how beautiful and expressive tango can be, even for an often clumsy clod such as myself.

At some point, though, I ended up hitting a wall in my progress. Without much warning, I had a sort of mental sea change, and the instruction seemed tiresome and frustrating instead of interesting and liberating. My mind became closed, I became tense and self-conscious, and it just stopped being fun. As far as tango was concerned, I reverted to an old mode from my past in which I succumbed to feelings that I had no business trying something like this. I became overwhelmed by difficulties my mind exaggerated or altogether made up. It wasn't long before I quit going. That was about a year and a half ago. From time to time, I considered going back, but for some reason felt as though I couldn't go just sometimes; I had to go sign up for lessons again and go regularly. So that was nice and convenient; I knew I would convince myself that I don't have time to go regularly, and from there it's an easy jump to, "You don't have to do that." So, yeah.

This is ridiculous. I love tango. There's no genuine reason I shouldn't be going, even just sometimes. Plus, a few years ago I promised myself I would really learn to dance, and I loved tango so much I decided that had to be it. All I had to do was occasionally -- ya know -- go dancing, and at least I'd be better than I am today. I obviously dropped that particular ball.

It's definitely time to pick up that ball, to re-inflate it, slather the SPF-30 on my pasty limbs and torso, and take that ball back out to the beach. Or maybe the bleachers at McCoy stadium -- coincidentally just around the corner from Providence Tango.

Yeah, sorry; that last bit was ridiculous. I think the warm weather has me dreaming some Summery thoughts of beaches and baseball stadiums.

Sorry Excuses: "I don't want to go." (Yeah, right.) "I would have to go all the time, and I don't have time to do that."
Verdict: scared and bad attitude
Prognosis: Very good. I can take the whole intro series over again at no charge, and there plenty of nights when I don't have much to do.