I am quietly confident in some things. Not many but some. Tango isn’t one of them.
I have lived in many countries. Succeeded – perhaps – a bit – at some things.
I did – however – once earn the unconditional love of a wonderful dog. That was truly amazing. Breathless and mystifying. Absolutely everything else in my life has been in some way explainable.
And so now I wait. I watch, and I seek.
I see people who are quietly confident in Tango. They comfortably execute things without risk. They have a nice time together. They are civil and have tea. And cakes. I turn away.
I watch people who are noisily confident in Tango. I turn away.
I watch people with agendas. I turn away.
Tango is one of the only two things in the world that I never want to be confident in.
True Tango is about exploration and personal risks, and risks are never comfortable.
I learn as best I can, all of the time. That’s what I do. But I am not chasing confidence, I am chasing an increased understanding and better technique so that I can truly feel the music and the excitement. I am pushing boundaries and those boundaries are the edges of me. They define me. Edges do that.
I am chasing a miracle. The only time I was ever able to touch it was when it was wearing the most beautiful, intelligent, soft brown eyes. And those eyes taught me so much, they helped to define me.
I really, really pray that I never think – even for a heartbeat – that I have caught up with Tango – that I am in any way ‘confident’.
I desperately want to stay terrified. Always. I want to feel him again. I want Tango to feel everything I have to offer and to stare straight back at me – to quietly question me.
To share everything, without words, without agendas.
For the second time in my life.