A Little Diversion - Let's Keep Dancing

Today I'm offering a little diversion.  I will return with the Passion According to St. Matthew tomorrow, but for today, I thought I would offers something a bit different. Those who know me know that I am an avid ballroom dancer.  Although I'm probably just half-decent at it, I find it a joyful and life-giving experience.  It is one of the things I am deeply missing during this time of social distancing.

A few years ago I wrote a little book about what dancing means to me, Let's Keep Dancing: What I have learned about Life, Love, and Relationships from Ballroom Dancing.  It has never been published, although I have done a couple of public readings of certain chapters.  I thought I had finished the book, but it still seems a work in progress as I continue to dance and continue to learn.  With every new experience there are new insights.  Since I wrote it, I have written a few additional reflections, and I see the need to go back and do quite of bit of re-writing.  Having said that, I thought I would share a chapter I feel quite good about.  If I am not able to dance, it's still wonderful to think about it, write about it, and talk about it.  And oh the dancing we shall do when this is all over!

This is a little chapter I like to call "Feeling Like We're Starting All Over Again".

 

Feeling Like We're Starting All Over Again

One of the wonderful things that begins to develop as we grow as dancers is confidence.  We develop confidence in ourselves and confidence in our partner.  When we finally have a variety of dance figures learned and memorized, when we begin to feel the rhythm of the music, and dance in step with it, when we really find ourselves free and enjoying the dance, it is a wonderful thing.  What has happened is that we have not only become confident with the components of the dance, but also in ourselves. This is when we really start to have fun dancing. It's not to say that we are not making mistakes, but rather that the mistakes are not stopping us, or defining us.  We begin to take our mistakes in stride, to let go of them, and no matter what, to keep on dancing. When we learn a new figure in a particular dance, the moment we realize that we have "mastered" it is a very special moment of triumph and a boost to our confidence. 

            Of course, we may never "master" an entire dance. There are countless figures and variations on figures that can be learned.  There is work on frame and styling that continues as we learn and grow as dancers.  But there is that special moment of "breaking through" when it feels like it all comes together and yes, we can finally dance the Cha-cha!  Soon, you are no longer feeling as though it is a hurdle to be overcome, but rather that as a couple, this is "your dance". You own it.

            A lot of this has to do with confidence. When you dance through the figures enough times, get some good coaching on what you are doing right and wrong, when you move well together with your partner and experience that simpatico that falls into place with hard work and practice, you are on the road to really enjoying the dance.  Confidence in knowing the figures and achieving some good styling and technique is one thing, but confidence in yourself and your partner is another. 

            It certainly is easier to have confidence in yourself and in your partner when you both know what you are doing.  It can be challenging when one person is "getting it" and the other is not.  This is why it is so important to practice, both separately and together.  As individuals we each have to feel comfortable with the figures of the dance, we each have to work on our technique and styling.  We each have to approach the dance with a level of confidence in what we are doing.  However, the vulnerable part comes when we bring it together.  There can be conflict if we have learned something a bit differently, perhaps even incorrectly, apart from each other, and it doesn't work well when we come together.  This is where good coaching is crucial.  It is not the time to fall into that tempting game of blaming, but rather, to carefully examine what we are each doing, encourage each other, and work together to find the solution.  We need to have enough self-confidence to be able to be open to healthy, constructive criticism. This can be difficult when we have worked hard on something and are sure we have it right.  Often we do not!   We need to have confidence in our partner, and that we share a common interest and goal in succeeding.  We need to be able to balance that trust in ourselves and trust in each other.

            At its best, dancing can be an opportunity to build trust and confidence, in ourselves and in each other.  At its worst, it can be a humiliating and hurtful experience.  In my experience, building confidence may not necessarily be a linear process.   How many couples, having felt the triumph of mastering a Cha-cha, feeling like they own it together, and thoroughly feeling the joy of the dance, will cringe when the instructor shifts gears and tells them they will now learn the Quickstep?

            It can be very difficult to transfer your confidence from one dance to the next.   It can feel as though you are starting all over again.  When the instructor introduces the figures, one of you gets them and another does not.  One of you feels the music, the rhythm, the other does not.   One is in their glory, loving the dance, the other is frustrated, angry, and oppositional to learning it. And this is all before you trying dancing any of the figures together!  A moment ago you thought you were wonderful dancers, now you feel like beginners again and wonder if you've made a mistake.

            When we start something new, we are hurled back into that vulnerable place and our confidence is eclipsed by fear.  When we are back there once again, it is not only that we are vulnerable in the dance, it is that all our relationship vulnerabilities and insecurities once again come to the surface, things we thought we had overcome.  Other vulnerabilities might also manifest themselves: How do I handle failure?  Did my parents yell at me when I made mistakes as a child? Does my partner belittle me when I'm clumsy at home? What transferences and projections are happening on the dance floor?  We are thrown back to those moments of insecurity and it is not comfortable. It is not easy to learn when our insecurities are exposed.

            I suspect all learning and growth works this way – on the dancefloor and in life.  We build confidence, we learn to trust, and then we are challenged.  We are frustratingly thrown back into that old place and we have to ask ourselves, "am I confident enough to overcome these new hurdles?" and "do I trust others enough not to hurt me?"  We now have the experience of success under our belts, but can we own it?  We are not the same people we were when we began dancing, nor are we the same people we were when we first met, or were married, or even when we celebrated our tenth or twentieth wedding anniversaries.  We have grown, we have experienced both pain and triumph, loss and gain.  Can we permit the triumphs and gains to shape our confidence as we approach something new together?  Will we allow our experience of loss and pain to shape our sensitivity to each other's vulnerability as move forward into the unknown?  We now know each other so much more intimately than when we began. This should all be possible.

            And yet, it often feels so much more difficult.  When we are thrust back into that place of vulnerability, of insecurity, a place we had thought we had left forever, it is like our higher thinking shuts downs.  Our baser feelings and instincts take over - hurt, pain, anxiety, anger, fear.  The challenge is not only to think our way through the problem, but to feel our way through with a greater degree of emotional intelligence.  Most importantly, we need to embrace the partnership, encourage each other compassionately, lovingly, and hopefully.  The baser instinct is to scapegoat; the higher instinct is to love selflessly.  Clearly, this is not just about the dance, it is about what is required for our relationships to thrive. It is not a linear journey, but perhaps a spiral staircase in which we turn again (as T.S. Eliot proposes in his poem), returning again to that similar yet slightly different place.  On the spiral staircase we return to similar scenes, but we view them from an ever-so-slightly-changed vantage point. We are climbing, returning, yet not returning, ever moving upward in heavenly ascent.  We are never really starting over again, although it may feel like it, for as we return to that uncomfortable place, we have returned as different people, with different experiences.  We have been changed, and that change allows us to keep on dancing, even when the anxiety returns.