Dancing is my passion. But sometimes I wonder, beyond the personal pleasure, what is the point. First lesson: I don’t need to judge or feel guilty about my pleasure. I have given myself permission to enjoy the things I love. As with most things we love, life finds a way for that medium to teach and guide us.

I favor the smooth dances—waltz, foxtrot, tango and Viennese waltz. With my natural tendencies, it has been very difficult for me to learn to follow. Lesson after lesson, I danced to my instructor’s chant, “Follow, follow,” “You’re ahead of me,” “Slow down,” and “Wait for me.” Until one day, in total exasperation, he stopped, backed away, threw up his hands and pleaded, “Dance with me.”

Finally, it resonated. Not that I danced in harmony with him from that point, but I began to connect with him, sense his presence and his importance, and perceive when and where he was moving, feeling his rhythm. My objective switched from listening for the beat of the music to discerning his meter.

True to my pattern of learning, the pendulum swung too far, and his admonitions switched to, “Don’t lean on me,” “You feel heavy,” or “You’re pulling me down.” I was confused. “You must hold yourself up; be capable of dancing alone,” he instructed. “Be powerful. Project your feet.” As I attempted to apply these new concepts, he would sometimes let go of me as we waltzed around the room. At first, I would stumble and begin to fall. I soon learned that balance is key. I had to maintain my balance by engaging my core and shifting my weight from one foot to the other in perfect timing with my partner. As a boat steadies as it jets through the water but wobbles as it idles, I needed to be powerful, or I became unstable. Utilizing my core and feet, I learned to propel myself forwards or backwards.

Once, I tangled my foot in his, and he stumbled. Reacting, I tried to catch him. “Never catch me,” he said, “for I will drag you down with me. We must both be free of one another.” I had to figure out the complexity of dancing with him, yet be strong and independent within my core, my own being.

As I struggle in my relationship with my significant other, my dance instructor’s words haunt me, taunt me and reverberate through my mind. “Dance with me, but don’t lean on me. Be capable of dancing alone. We must be independent of one another, or one will bring down the other.” In the context of relationships, dancing becomes easy. The trickiest element is “dancing/relating with” and perhaps the key to the with is the second component of the equation—once I’m strong enough within myself to stand independent of my partner, then relating with comes more naturally.

I’ve run the full gamut in relationships. I’ve manifested the doormat, the clinger, the subservient, the controller, the dominant, the planner, the organizer, the free spirit. Now, as I apply my dance lessons to my relationship maybe I can learn to step in time to his pulse and vibrations without dragging him down. And through practice and application, become stronger within myself and stand alone, with him or without him.

And sometimes, when asked to dance, it’s best to politely say, “No, thank you,” even if you’ve been trying to dance with that partner for a long time. For, as the saying goes, it takes two to tango.

Give me your thoughts, insight and suggestions. I’m willing to learn. Disagree? I welcome your comments.

If you’re wondering what any of this has to do with passionate, hot, steamy love-making, wait until we get to Bolero.

Hugs,
Regina