Dance is the simplest, most eloquent and perhaps honest expression of the human condition that we have as sentient beings. Music comes a close second. However when it is your body that is the instrument of expression, it doesn't get much more intimate than that.
My body has not been my own for many months. It has belonged to Dragon. It has served her needs, day in, day out to the point that I did not know it anymore. I do not mean that it had sagged and bagged beyond all recognition. I simply did not feel a part of it. I had detached. Exercise and the physical demands of looking after a baby did nothing to re-engage me with my corporeal self.
I knew what I had to do and finally last night, I got to it.
I went dancing.
Tango in fact. Argentine style.
As my feet slid across the floor in the familiar sinuous shapes of my past, I felt serene for the first time in a long, long while. Tom Waits (of all people) flashed through my head
Well ya play that Tarantella
All the hounds they start to roar
And the boys all go to hell
Then the Cubans hit the floor
And they drive along the pipeline
They tango till they're sore
They take apart their nightmares
And they leave them by the door
Dance has been the longest relationship I've had with anything or anyone, apart from my parents. And I had been neglecting that relationship for far too long
The body remembers always and reminds you of what you have forgotten.
It's all there; waiting beneath the surface.
My body has not been my own for many months. It has belonged to Dragon. It has served her needs, day in, day out to the point that I did not know it anymore. I do not mean that it had sagged and bagged beyond all recognition. I simply did not feel a part of it. I had detached. Exercise and the physical demands of looking after a baby did nothing to re-engage me with my corporeal self.
I knew what I had to do and finally last night, I got to it.
I went dancing.
Tango in fact. Argentine style.
As my feet slid across the floor in the familiar sinuous shapes of my past, I felt serene for the first time in a long, long while. Tom Waits (of all people) flashed through my head
Well ya play that Tarantella
All the hounds they start to roar
And the boys all go to hell
Then the Cubans hit the floor
And they drive along the pipeline
They tango till they're sore
They take apart their nightmares
And they leave them by the door
 |
| Instead of the usual tango feet image, I give you Tom Waits. A man I'd like to tango with |
Dance has been the longest relationship I've had with anything or anyone, apart from my parents. And I had been neglecting that relationship for far too long
The body remembers always and reminds you of what you have forgotten.
It's all there; waiting beneath the surface.
3 comments:
I am so pleased you've started dancing again. And Lady, you never cease to amaze me - you are so well read! always quoting amazing stuff! There's depth in your thinking.
Let me fall out the window
With confetti in my hair
Deal out jacks or better
On a blanket by the stairs
I'll tell you all my secrets
But I lie about my past
So send me off to bed forever more.
Gotta love Tom.
I like the reference to body memory, and I have experienced it- that feeling of a kind of awakening, fitting back into your own skin, and a sense of motion becoming that much more fluid and at ease.
I have got to say that when it comes to dance, though, my body has a shocking memory. I've been likened to a combination of Peter Garret, David Byrne and Mick Jagger. Not a flattering comparison- not much in the way of style or form. Then again, as you said, the body is an instrument of expression, and it is pretty much the first one that we ever learn to handle, really. How well we attune to it, or whether we lose touch with expression altogether, is another thing. I guess, like any form of expression, there are all different levels and varieties of technique- the thing that matters is the spirit behind it. Joi-de-vivre ('scuse the appalling spelling) I'd say that is the source of the body memory.
Thank you Shivani. Strangely I had been really wanting to start again but was always too tired/sick etc but in the space of a week, four old friends reminded me to start again. So I did. As for whether there is depth or derangement in my thinking, that is debatable :)
Anonymous - I would not describe your dancing style as Peter Garret-like at all. There is a touch of Mick Jagger. Not sure about David Byrne. I would say there is a strong sixties influence with a touch of eighties a la Robot thrown in. Also a tinge of Cossack simmering there beneath it all. That said, I have only ever seen you dance ONCE in the twenty years I have known you, but it was worth the wait.
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