I
overheard two women talking as they danced together as leader and follower, “Wow! You’re so
skinny. It’s so nice dancing without that thing poking me." After an awkward silence she added, "...I mean the belly.”
I’d take
umbrage at that remark if I could but I am beyond feeling hurt by such honest
and harmless utterances. Yes, I carry a little extra weight
around the midsection yet I do not feel remorse for I have been
enlightened.
I’ve
gained thirty pounds since I began dancing tango over six years ago. I guess I
should be disheartened by this fact but I am not. It is common to gain a little
weight when we begin a new relationship and I feel nothing but happy. Tango is
a great partner to have on this journey through life and she feeds me well.
I lost
my job two years ago but that failed to impact my general state of happiness.
With two kids in college I quickly ran through any financial buffer I had built
up and should have been devastated when a storm ripped a hole in the roof of my
house. Yet my house, as do I, still stands.
If I had
to offer an explanation for my ironclad bliss you will probably not be surprised
if you know me, or have been following my blog, to find that it is tango and
river-related:-)
Once
upon a time, when in April the rivers doth flow fast and furious, on the Lower Moose
River that drains the western slope of the Adirondack Mountains, at a rapids
section called ‘Froth Hole’, in the
middle of a blinding snow-storm, I was working as a whitewater river guide. It was my responsibility to man the safety line for the rafting guests. My boss and I both felt the
most appropriate place was on a large rock protruding from the water, six feet off the far bank just above
the waterfall that created the angry, foamy depression providing the namesake
for this place.
I
kayaked across the river, climbed out of my boat and grabbed my throwbag, a
small bag of coiled rope. Without hesitating, I dove into the frigid water to
swim out to the nearby promontory and was nearly swept over the waterfall. I was not afraid of being carried into the frothy water. I knew that landing
on the sharp rocks inside the drop would break my back and that would be much
worse than slowly drowning in the churning river. Hypothermia, I’ve
heard, makes drowning a much more pleasant concept.
This was
my second season as a guide on the Moose River and somewhere along the way I
had lost the ability to react to my fear. I knew it was there but I ceased to
make decisions with regard to my physical welfare. I acted as situations
demanded, always moving forward to the next task. Those were long days that
ended with extreme fatigue and me slipping into slumber, always to be awakened
too soon.
Reaching
out my right hand I grasped the rock above the river’s surface and found
smooth, solid ice. A thought went through my mind that I should find another
job. At that moment I knew there was no way a whitewater rafting company was
going to pay the hospital costs incurred during my rehabilitation from a broken
back. The next task, it seemed, was finding a less dangerous environment in
which to earn a living.
It was
in this moment that I achieved enlightenment.
Beneath
the water my head ached with intense pain. Instinctively my body attached to
the submerged portions of the stone like plastic wrap. Without concern for my
next breath I slithered up to the surface, straddled the peak and readied my
rope.
That was
the beginning of the end of my career in adventure sports. A harrowing sailboat
ride across the North Atlantic on a 40’ sloop through a force nine gale, around
Hurricane Floyd and past the false lighthouse beacons of St. Thomas-Cruz Bay in
the Caribbean Sea, would lead me to marriage and the safety of family life. 20
years later I would be on the far side of parenthood and looking at dancing my
way into old age and senility.
So here
I am with my big belly bouncing babes off it like Bambi bumping bumble bees
with his bovine-esque beak. My big Buddha belly. Ho, ho, ho, time to
tango:-D
Though some may say this stone
can’t roll and is growing moss, I hear them not. I am a body in motion and
enjoying the movement in spite of my size. It is
fairly safe here. The only danger I face is having my feelings hurt or a poorly
executed turn on my bad knee.
I
realize women would rather dance with a perfect specimen of manliness but we
come to this dance with the bodies we have, not the bodies we wish to have. In the grand scheme of things maybe it is necessary for me to be fat. It keeps
me humble but it also allows some of my partners to shed their feelings of
inadequacy. These women easily open themselves up to a state of relaxation that is
necessary for them to move to the music and find whatever it is that they so desperately
need.
Karma has many forms and one of those forms is
me. Don’t worry, be happy….and dance with me!
(For a more in-depth looking into the mind of the Kayak Hombre and his thoughts on tango, buy his book: River Tango, now available on Amazon.com at http://www.amazon.com/River-Tango-perri-iezzoni/dp/1453865527 )
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