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40 icons of tango, judges of the world tango championship, world champions, and experienced maestros came together to create one remarkable book.

Click here to read the topics discussed in the book.

I don’t dance as much as I used to.

Not because I don’t like it.

My focus is on playing with my son when I am not working, and he is too young to join me at the milongas.

But yesterday I felt this need to dance.

I was working all day long listening to tango music in parallel, and both my body and my mind was telling me it’s time.

I kissed my son and wife goodnight and went out.

As usual, I didn’t start dancing right away.

I gave myself time to absorb the music and the environment.

When I danced my first tanda, I was not in the mood for the usual conversation.

You know: “where do you come from?”, “how many days are you staying here?”

Without thinking about it, I simply asked:

-What do you like most about tango?

Silence.

She took a while to respond.

Who asks this kind of question, right?

She doesn’t even know me, why did I ask that?

Did I just make sure that the next three songs are going to feel weird?

But before I was able to interrupt the awkward silence, she talked.

-Connection.

We danced one more song.

-You didn’t ask me “Connection with whom?”, she said at the end.

I asked.

-With myself.

-Why?

-It is my active meditation.

-Why do you need it?

-It helps me grow.

I smiled.

What if I kept doing that all night long?

What would I discover?

The next woman I danced with, simply said:

-I love to meet complete strangers, from anywhere in the world, and know that I have a language to communicate with them.

Beautiful, I thought.

I received many answers that night.

-Because tango shakes my soul, another one told me.

And then, it happened:

–To stay alive. 

Words were not coming easy.

Was I supposed to ask more, or give her privacy?

I made a choice.

-What happened?

-I am pregnant.

-Congratul…

I saw something in her eyes.

I stopped.

It will not make it. There is some kind of incompatibility with my body. We don’t know when it will happen, or if it has already happened by now. Just the certainty it will happen.

Once again, I didn’t know what to say.

The music saved me, and we hugged again.

In a split second many memories came back to my mind. 

The moment we thought my father had commited suicide…

A friend of mine who lost two babies.

I had no power to influence those scenarios.

Or did I?

Maybe I could.

I looked down, and noticed the soles of my tango shoes.

They were getting unstuck. 

They won’t make the night, I thought. 

Maybe they feel insufficient too.

Insufficient to rise up to the situation, to do the right thing.

Maybe they also feel… small…

Can the shoes feel smaller?

Lucky shoes, you’ll always be a “44”.

Feelings are a gift and curse only for the living.

What am I thinking?

How can I be thinking of myself at this moment?

How can I be thinking of my experiences? 

Was my mind trying to take me away from something I wasn’t prepared for?

Humans are weird creatures.

We worry about our shoes, and at the same time we brush off disasters we see on TV.

I came back to the moment.

How am I supposed to dance this tango?

No, not the specific music.

But this tango, a tango that follows such a revelation.

I felt her.

She was dancing and letting go. 

She was dancing to feel alive.

I am not enough for this, I thought.

And then, I noticed something.

My right hand.

It was just a bit lower on her back. 

Exactly. . . there.

We were dancing, but I was no longer dancing with her.

I was dancing with the life she was carrying.

Praying for healing…

Praying for a miracle.

Maybe the doctor was wrong, after all.

Hope.

I let everything go, delivered everything to more powerful hands.

I was dancing, trying to give a safe environment for that unborn life, saying at the same time my “Hello” and my “Goodbye”.

If I only knew where this simple question, this simple “Why?” would take me.

I continued asking this question to my partners during that night.

I was still afraid I might make them uncomfortable.

That was rarely the case.

There is a strong need in us to be understood, to be heard.

So people talked and shared.

That night I saw people that were smiling while dancing, but were passing through hard divorces.

And tango was there for them.

That night, I saw people… connecting with people

What if we were all dancing to heal and be healed?

What would a milonga look like in that case?

That’s a milonga I wouldn’t miss for the world.

-What if we were all dancing to heal and be healed?, I thought again.

 

Update:

Something beautiful happened after writing the above blogpost.

I started dancing with women in milongas that had read it.

They also started asking people why they dance.

And some of them noticed something amazing.

After they asked that question, the dances became warmer, better.

They felt more connected, and the bodies of their partners felt lighter.

 I did not see this coming, but it makes perfect sense to me.

What about you?

Yes, you.

The one that feels the urge to leave this blogpost since it is obviously over.

Scrolling in that blue platform is just a click away, isn’t it?

It’s your choice to leave.

I wish I could hug you before doing that.

I can’t.

So let me ask you this:

Why do you dance? (see other responses in the comments below, and maybe, maybe, add yours.)

Hug, and let go,

Dimitris Bronowski 

Say it without words:

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Why do you dance tango?

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