being present, pt. 2 – practising being in the now

At the start of each class we have what we call “the circle”. The entire class forms a big circle and we spend some 10-15 minutes doing various exercises which make us more aware and present in our body.

It’s a sort of gateway into the class, with a sign that says “leave your thoughts and worries outside”. During the day we spend so much of our time making plans, dealing with issues, thinking about the past and the future, that we often forget that our life is happening now; and the circle is here to, among other things, remind us of this fact.

And yet, it is not easy to constantly be present, especially in the circle itself.

Why is this? Why is it, in general, oftentimes so difficult to be present in the now? Why does it often feel like having a constant wrestling match with your attention?

It’s like we’re waiting for this moment to pass in order to get to the one that matters. The circle, being an entry into the class, thus might seem like not as important as the class itself.

But it is important. Every moment is.

Now is exciting. Now we feel what we feel, now we sense what we sense. Now we’re here, so why should we try to be somewhere else?

I think one of the main reasons is because no one has ever really taught us neither why nor how to be present. Actually, it’s the how that’s perhaps even more important – in order to be present, you need to continuously practice being present.

This is why it feels like a wrestling match; because in a way, it really is one. Due to numerous circumstances, this is a skill (for want of a better word) that we are very bad at, and this is why it’s difficult to attain it. So, we must practice.

“Why do you want to look at your cell-phone now? Can’t you think about that project tomorrow? Why is this exercise boring to you? Why do you want to fast-forward to some other cool moment? What’s wrong with this one? Do you really have a good reason not to be present?”

These are some of the questions that I keep asking myself in every class, especially during the circle, whenever I notice my attention is not on the now.

It’s not easy, but I’m slowly getting better at it. I’m also trying to notice all the other moments in my life when I’m not present and I should be.

Like right now: Instead of just typing this post, I’m alt-tabbing every 20 seconds or so to my web browser.

to be continued

“I don’t see you as a tango dancer”, pt. 3

What was tango for you when you made your first steps?

When you had your first good dance?

When you first entered the close embrace?

When you actually started hearing the music?

After your first milonga?

Even though these are some of the things we all go through and we could draw many parallels in how they felt to us, we still experience all of them in our own way. And, this is without counting the numerous other things: someone has never been to a festival while someone else visits at least one per month, there are people who have almost never danced tango to the traditional music and others who couldn’t stand anything else, you might dance with only one or two people for half a year, or perhaps with as many different people as possible…

So many differences, so many exciting things to explore, experiences to share. We are connected through tango, but you might as well say we’re connected through  English – it’s a wonderful way to communicate, but we all carry our own interpretation of it and no two people feel it in the same way.

And then, when someone asks what you do, you say you dance tango, and you might as well have said that you ride dragons in the night, because you haven’t communicated almost anything to that person if they’re themselves don’t dance it.

On the other hand, they tell you that they do capoeira. Or they sculpt. Or they write. And when you know that you can’t share such a big part of you with the person you’re talking to, you realize that it goes both ways – you also can’t sense the world behind their words.

I recently chatted online with a friend who’s doing ballet. We rarely talk these days, and before when we hung out more, I didn’t really think anything about her dancing – to me, it was just something she did.

But now, we talked about our struggles with our ego,  about getting to know our bodies, about expressing yourself through music, and, of course, about how people who don’t dance can’t understand us. So, even though we do dances which are quite different, we still had a lot to share.

That’s just one example, and I now find it fascinating to try and sense as much as possible the things other people do, to try to open up and understand their experience through all the ”languages” I speak – English, tango, activism and so on.

There’s another problem in there, though: we have a problem understanding what others do because we have a problem expressing what we ourselves do – we’re simply not taught anywhere how to do that.

So, we have to learn how to feel and think about what we do, and how we can communicate that with others.   What are the best ways to do that?