Talk to Me, Baby!

               Sometimes I take great pleasure in dancing with a novice tanguera who talks compulsively. I don’t pay attention to the words, just their meaning: she is relaxed. The effect of the tango embrace can be overwhelming for a newbie and an uncontrollable river of seemingly disconnected statements is often the result.

               It makes me feel good to know that I did this; that I am part of some sort of healing process and that I’m making the world a better place.

               Her realization that she feels safe with me is a trigger for the cloud to burst. She doesn’t understand that my ability to connect with her and to make her feel secure is an acquired skill necessary for all leaders of this dance. 

               I’m not sure what she’s thinking but I can tell that she’s relieved. A deluge ensues and becomes a swollen stream that has been held back for years, maybe even decades.

               This may be hard for many milongueros to believe but sometimes people need something more than music and physical contact with another human being. Some new dancers find that they have an irresistible urge to talk and it doesn’t matter what they say, only that they let the words out.

               A major reason for language is the human species’ need to communicate. Our verbal correspondence allows us to do more than just convey information. There are health benefits derived from the use of our vocal chords.  

               Our desire to speak is not satiated if our words fall on deaf ears; there must be a recipient. This is the bane of many marriages, possibly even mine. Too often, men hear the words of their spouses but fail to exhibit the signs that indicate they are listening.

               I love to talk. I enjoy the meter of the words as they fall from my tongue. I delight in the emphasis of the syllables. I constantly strive to find just the right word for a sentence to complete its meaning and its melody. Most importantly, I need to gauge the impact my words have on others.

               I was ‘shushed’ many times when I first started dancing tango. This was not the kind of feedback I was expecting. It seemed to me that I was being unfairly singled out at the time, but later, I would come to learn that the mood of the crowd dictates when conversation is appropriate. 

               This is why a particular milonga can be loud and clamoring one week and sensuously silent the next.

               Tango helps us refine our innate talent for sensing the emotions of the people around us. That is why it is important to consider the effect your actions have on your partner as well as the other dancers at the milonga.

               As I became a better leader, I accepted the responsibility of staying on the receiving side of any dialog during the dance. I came to realize that listening is an act of compassion and a tool for healing. It is an art form and an obligation we owe to the community we serve.

               Ultimately, the best dances happen when both partners are listening and responding to each other with movement and passion, not with words. This takes a long time to learn.

               Very rarely has the talkative tanguera made it to a full blown milonga, she is usually in the very first stages of her tango therapy, at a beginners class, or at one of the many small practicas I’ve attended all across the United States. Sooner or later, she will be silenced by the codigos del tango but, until that happens, I am here for her: ready, willing and listening. Maybe one day, she and I will dance and we will conduct our discussion through our dance and not with our words.

My new book, Fear of Intimacy and the Tango Cure is available online at Amazon.com.